There’s a look on his face that tells me he needs this, needs to be validated. I don’t know everything that happened to him in the past―we’ve talked a little about it, but not much―but it did a number on his self-confidence. He’s not the first man I’ve given that back to, but I’m kind of hoping he’s the last. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
“Got your gear together?” I ask him.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s all in my bag. May I take it to the car?”
“Please. Then come back and get the cooler.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He takes off out the door and I watch that fine, sculpted ass.
Then something flits through my mind and I yell, “WAIT!”
He jumps, and panic is plain in his voice when he asks, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, honey, you didn’t. But I just happened to think: You’d probably better put on a pair of sweatpants over that, and maybe a long-sleeved shirt.” Before he can ask, I add, “You can take it all off in the car as soon as we get out there. But if anyone sees you dressed like that―”
“Good point. I’ll do that right now.” Most women complain about their husbands moving slowly. He’s not my husband, but I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. The man just wants to please me, and I find that incredibly sexy.
But that damn Gloria was out prowling around yesterday, and I have this weird feeling she’s watching us. Once he gets his “neighborhood camouflage” on, he carries everything out and I follow to lock up after the last load. As soon as the car doors close, he’s stripping off the pants and shirt. “I’m hot,” he announces.
“Yes you are!” I purr and give him a wink, and he laughs. His laugh is like thrumming keys on a piano, deep and resonant.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he says with a smile and watches out the window. I can’t figure out how a man this gorgeous has been so unloved for so long. Every person he’s ever loved has rejected him. We’re not in love, but I have to ask myself what’s wrong with people. And I also have to ask myself if I’d like to be in love with him.
I suppose having a pony for a boyfriend turned a lot of women off. Me? It’s right up my pasture.
3
Gloria
I saw those new people, Tasha and Davis, working on something yesterday. They had boards stacked in the back of his truck and they opened the gate in their fence. I could hear them hammering out there and I wondered what they were doing. I wandered down past their house like I was just out taking a walk, then stuck my head through the gate and said, "Hey! You guys are working hard!”
“Uh, hi, Gloria. Yeah, we’re working on the fence,” Tasha told me.
“Is it broken?”
“No. We’re just making it a little more private,” she mumbled out like she was up to no good.
“Oh! Going to walk around naked back here?” I asked. I was halfway joking and halfway wondering if that’s what they’ll be up to.
“Maybe!” she quipped back. I have to believe there might be some truth to that.
“See you later,” I called back over my shoulder as I left. Maybe I won’t be seeing their nakedness. But I’ll sure check to find out.
Then, this morning, I’m looking out the window and what do I see? Their door opens and I see that Davis guy standing there like he’s coming outside, but then he goes back in and closes the door. And he looks odd, like he’s painted his body with chocolate or something. I can’t figure it out. Is he naked? Is he a black man who’s bleached his face like, what was his name, Michael Jackson? I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
I can tell you this: I’ll be watching those two. They’re up to something. I just don’t know what.
Tasha
My usually-quiet pony is exceptionally quiet on the way. I just have to ask, “You okay?”
It’s as though I’ve startled him out of some kind of stupor. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Having second thoughts?”
He shakes his head, that long, dark hair whipping back and forth gently. “No. I want to go.” I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he turns to me and says, “I want to meet other people like me, Tasha. I’ve never met anyone else like me.”
I fight the urge to chuckle because I know what a big step this is for him. “Babe, there are a lot of furries out there―a lot of them. You’d be surprised.”
“Ponies?”
“A lot of ponies. Even more puppies. There are kittens and other animals, but mostly puppies. There’s an enormous contingency of puppies in the gay community. Really big.”
He goes back to staring out the window as he speaks. “So will there be many ponies here?”
“It’s all ponies. Well, I’m sure there’ll be a few more furries there, but mostly ponies. It’s a pony event.”
“Good.” Bless his heart, I can see he’s nervous. And I can understand why. I’d never tell him, but I’m nervous too. I’ve been doing this for a bit, but never in such a formal manner, and never in a group this large, so it’s a first for me too. But the lady I’ve been talking to on the phone was very nice, so I think it’ll be okay.
I get a big surprise when I pull off the main road. There’s a barricade across the little gravel drive, and I stop in front of it. Two men come up to my car, one on either side, and I put down my window. I don’t put Davis’s down. He’s already freaked out a little; that would only make it worse. The man asks, “Do you have a moment for me?”
“Twenty-three,” I answer.
“Is he okay?” he asks me as the guy on the other side shrugs. Davis hasn’t even looked up at him.
“He’s just nervous.” I reach over and take Davis’s hand and he grips mine.
The man stoops down until he can look over at Davis. “Hey, buddy?” When Davis turns to him, his face almost white, the man smiles. “Don’t be nervous. Everybody here’s had a first time. They were terrified. But know what? There’s only one first time. After that, you’re a pro. It’ll be fine.” Davis gives him a tight smile, but I hope he sees the gratitude in mine. The man pats my shoulder and points. “Straight in. At the fork, go to the left. Don’t think you’ve gone the wrong way; it’s a pretty good distance back there. And have fun.” He smiles again and waves me on, and the man on the other side waves and grins. They seem friendly enough, and I can almost feel Davis relaxing. After the left at the fork, we mount a hill, and when we come over the crest, we both gasp.
There have to be two hundred people here.
“Wow,” Davis mutters.
“Yeah. Wow.” I realize I’ve stopped the car in the road, and I step down on the accelerator and roll down the hill at about twenty-five miles per hour. “You still okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I can’t tell from his voice if he’s excited or terrified. We park out at the edge and sit for just a minute. He finally says, “Can we go on down? I need to get this over with.” It sounds almost like he’s swallowing some nasty medicine or about to have something pierced.
“Okay. I’ll grab your gig bag. You get the cooler.” She’d warned me they wouldn’t have any running water, and I don’t want him getting dehydrated. It’s a pleasant day, but it’ll be hot in that suit.
As we approach the group, a woman older than me, maybe early fifties, steps toward us and smiles. “Tasha?”
“Yes! Dani?”
“Yes! I’m so glad you came! Is this Trusty?”
“Yes it is.” I’m so proud of Davis; he’s keeping his eyes appropriately averted and not making a sound.
“Well behaved.” She smiles again. “So I’m going to encourage you to just hang out, watch, ask anyone questions, and maybe start him on some very basic things. Now, you said you’d done this before but not formally, right?”
I nod. “Yes. I’ve had furries before, but never for training and the like.”
“Then you’ll get a lot out of this. You can saddle him up, use a halter or bridle, bit or no bit, whatever you want to do. It’s your opportunity to experiment with the he
lp of others. It’s,” she says, looking at her watch, “two o’clock. We’ll be around here until about six. By then, the sun will be going down. Most of us want to have a peaceful day off tomorrow, so we’ll just close out then. So go have some fun. And ask for help if you need it.”
“Will do! Thanks so much.” I watch her walk away and turn to Davis. “Okay, for today I think you need to be biped. I really don’t want you on all fours out here in the sticks and weeds. Agreed?”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you want,” he answers, still not looking up, and I’m a little afraid of his reaction to some of the things he’ll see today.
I just take his hand and lead him toward a bale of straw away from everyone else. “Look at me, Davis.” When the words are out, he lifts hesitant eyes to me. “Listen. I’m not doing this just for me; I’m doing it for you too. I want you to get what you need out of this experience. I know you want to jump in, but for awhile, let’s just walk around and observe. Let’s give ourselves until, oh, maybe three thirty? Then we’ll sit down again and talk about what we’ve seen, what we liked and didn’t like, what we might want to try. Sound good?”
“I’ll do whatever you like, ma’am,” he says again.
I just rise to stand in front of him, then take his chin in my hand, tip his head up, and give him a kiss on the forehead. He looks like he might cry. “No. We’ll do whatever the two of us need to do. Now come on and let’s look around.” I reach for his hand again and he stands and follows me.
We watch all around. Over in one area, there are several masters and mistresses with ponies, and they’re learning dressage movements. In another area, some trainers are working with harnesses and carts. That’s pretty interesting. There’s one area that’s specifically for those riding on their ponies’ backs. They have all different kinds of saddles and other apparatuses they’re using. Those are all male ponies and, except for one, all the trainers are female. But there’s one thing that surprises the hell out of me.
Most of the ponies are naked. I wasn’t anticipating that. I thought they’d be decked out in all kinds of things, but naked? Especially the female ponies. Many of the male ponies are naked also, and still others have on nothing but thongs or bikini brief types of things. I’ve never see Davis completely naked, and I wonder what that would be like. When one of the trainers wanders by, I blurt out, “Hi. May I ask you something?”
He stops and smiles. “Of course! Ask away.”
“I’m sure there has to be a theory on the ponies being naked,” I say. “Could you explain that to us?”
“Sure! It’s simple, really,” he says, pointing to a pale, rather curvy girl. “First of all, without clothes, they’re closer to a non-human pony’s natural state.” I nod my understanding. “Second, it fosters more trust. They’re bare and vulnerable. It’s their trainer’s responsibility to protect them. And third, it’s very, very sexy. For quite a few of us, this is a sexual fantasy, and working the ponies naked is very satisfying to us. Does that all make sense?” he asks, brows peaking.
“Yes, sir, it does. Thank you so much.”
“Name’s Jay.” He extends his hand and I take it to shake. “And you’re―”
“Tasha. And this is my pony boy, Trusty.” I motion to Davis, whose eyes are averted again.
“Nice mount. Very good lines. He should do well,” Jay says with a grin. “Have a fun day and don’t hesitate to ask any other questions you have.”
“Thanks!” I watch him walk away and smile. That’s one good-looking guy, probably forty-five to fifty and cut from fine cloth. He joins a young pony girl, probably in her twenties and naked except for her cart harness, and I see her nod her head and take something from his palm. A sound beside me brings me back to Davis. “So how do you feel about the nakedness thing?”
“I’ll do whatever you want, ma’am,” he repeats.
“I don’t want you to do it if it makes you uncomfortable.” I wait, but he says nothing. “Davis, I need your opinion here. It’s your body. If you’re uncomfortable with it, then―”
He interrupts me with, “I’d like for the first time to be in the privacy of the house so you can tell me what you think and I can get more comfortable with it.”
“Fair enough. Exactly what I wanted to know. No problem. We can work on that. What do you see that appeals to you?”
He looks around. “Dressage. And the carts. I think I’d enjoy that.”
“I was thinking the carts. Let’s go take a look. I don’t know that we could have a cart, but we could get you a harness and maybe borrow a cart sometime to practice.”
He smiles gently. “That would be great, ma’am.”
Before the end of the day, Davis is wearing his bridle and the rubber bit, and he’s enjoying being led about and petted. I decide right then that I’ve got to get headgear for him that includes ears but not the mask. That’ll be most useful. And I can’t believe I forgot something very, very important in my order.
A tail.
“I try to work in some training at least every other day. She really needs it,” Jay says, pointing to his mare, Buttercup. I swear, couldn’t they come up with something a little more original?
“So what kind of training do you do?”
“Oh, the usual. We do lunges on the lunge line, some dressage practice, gait training. Sometimes we do some cart work,” he tells me, still watching Buttercup.
“You must have a big place.”
“About twenty acres. Not huge, but big enough. And it’s out in the country and very private, so there’s no worries there.” He gives me a huge grin. “Nothing like working your pony in the fresh air and sunshine.”
“That would be fun, I’m sure.” I’m watching Davis as he and Buttercup sit and talk. I can see she’s entertaining him with something she’s saying because he laughs a little. When he glances over at me, I give him a discreet nod, so he goes back to the conversation with her.
“Oh, it’s tons of fun. I don’t use the regular breeding stall that most of the owners use. I just tie her to a fence and do what needs to be done.”
That’s when it hits me. I didn’t get it before, but I do now. And more questions are now rolling around in my head than I have time to ask. “How long have you and Buttercup been together?”
He glances over at the two of them laughing and chatting. “About five months now.”
“So, is she your wife?”
When he stops laughing, he shakes his head. “God, no! I got her in a trade with another owner.” Now I’m really confused. “Sometimes when we get tired of working with a particular pony, we’ll do a trade. I had a mare who was giving me some trouble, so I traded her to one of the more experienced owners and got this one. She’s a lot more compliant, so she was a lot easier to trade. The other guy,” he says, pointing to a tall, muscular, older man across the way, “likes a pony who’ll challenge his authority. He’s into bondage and discipline, so she was a good choice for him. Before he stepped up, I had a hard time finding someone who wanted to take her on.”
I start to watch the man he’s pointed out. Next to him there’s a tall, leggy brunette with large, heavy breasts, a small waist, and a nice round backside. I notice two things: Her feet are hobbled so she can’t run, and her backside is covered with lash marks. “So is she into bondage and discipline?”
“She is now!” Jay roars. In a few seconds he adds, “If you’re asking if they were traded without their consent, the answer is no. But she had no idea what she was getting herself into, I do know that. And to back away from him is to back away from the entire community here, so she’s with him. I hope he can break her because I sure couldn’t.” Noticeably watching his mare and Davis, he turns to me. “I’ve been looking for a good stallion to breed that one. Would you consider letting me use your stallion there as a stud?”
“You want to get her pregnant?”
His head is shaking and he’s almost clucking at me. “No. That’s just what we call it. I don’t know how it is
where you came from, but here, exposing the ponies to breeding within the group is another form of discipline. They’re not consulted for that, and they’re expected to comply.”
“For what purpose?” I ask, hoping I don’t get the answer I’m afraid will come.
“For the purpose of discipline and teaching compliance. For the purpose of entertaining the owners. For the purpose of satisfying both mounts. Lots of different reasons. We film them for educational purposes, and we show the videos at meetings to point out good breeding practices and ways to do a better job.” Even though I try not to, I’m sure he sees me recoil ever so slightly, so he adds, “You’ve got to understand: They want this. They want to become horses in every way. This is just another way they become the horse. Horses aren’t consulted before they’re bred. We try not to even let them know it’s going to take place, but most of the time, when they’re prepped and they know there’s no gathering taking place, they figure it out. And they’re usually sopping wet by the time we get them together. If one of the mares wasn’t, and was maybe a little skittish when she was presented for breeding, we’d probably rethink it. Probably. But not necessarily. As I said, this is expected of them.” He hesitates for a minute, then says, “You are training your pony boy properly, aren’t you?”
“In that respect, no. Not yet.”
That gets a deep chuckle out of him. “What are you waiting for? He’s a looker, that one.”
That brings up another question. “Do you ever train pony boys?”
“I have. That’s not my preference, but I have.”
“Did they know beforehand if they were being traded or bred?”
“No. We’ve had a few who were traded to male handlers and didn’t want to do it, but it’s expected. And I know what you’re thinking.” He glances back at the two of them laughing as they sit on the bale of hay. “The answer is yes. I’ve trained a pony boy who didn’t want to do that. As I came up behind him, he tried to kick me, but I reminded him that his compliance determined whether he got to stay in our community or not. He calmed right down and let me do what needed to be done to train him, but not long after that, he left our community. However, see that pony right over there?” he asks and points to a tall, tanned guy with blond hair to his shoulders, and I nod. “He’s married to his rider,” he says, and I assume that’s her beside him, a redhead, with creamy skin and a killer smile. “She likes to hand him over to male trainers on a fairly regular basis and he complies. He’s a very good pony; he’ll do anything she asks.”
Tasha and Davis at 333 Harper's Cove Page 2