Playing with the Cool Kids
Right now, Fifteen wasn’t a happy pony.
Right now, she was leading our party of seventeen sulkies, she herself being led by Kendrick’s firm yet knowing hand. He had switched carts (but not ponies) at the last minute because something at his seat had cracked and couldn’t be fixed in a trice. It could still carry Kandrin, though, who would literally be half his weight whilst carrying a knapsack full of bricks. So it came to pass that Fifteen found her slender self harnessed to the first sulky in row. Continue reading
The following narration is a commission from Suspension Guy, a constant reader who had asked for an interrogation story set in the HardSkill universe. I have received word that he is well pleased with the result, and I hope to get similar feedback from other readers, too.
Muriel hadn’t seen the punch to her neck coming. The grunt behind it was big enough to send her spinning into the nearest strut. The impact hadn’t only shattered her night vision goggles, but also had forced what air she had left out of her lungs.
Muriel was in serious trouble.
The guards had caught her on the mechanical level of the AReFa main building. And they hadn’t been on patrol duty. The company mercs had waited for her. Whilst two of them were holding Muriel subdued in collaborative joint locks, a third steel-trapped her wrists in rigid handcuffs. Before hauling her back up on her feet, her broken NV gear was replaced by a tight hood shutting out all light and most sounds – surely nothing a common security bloke would bring to his nightly round. Continue reading
From the author of HardSkill, Pony Boot Camp and many other online stories your NSFW filter blocks away, comes a tour de force deep into the world of cloak-and-dagger clichés.
“And what exactly is your mission?” he asked, his eyes suddenly agleam with morbid fascination.
Denise lowered her voice even more to squeeze every last drop of attention out of him.
“Normally I am not supposed to tell you without killing you afterwards…” Continue reading
Selfie (a.k.a. Rogue Tie)
You are always so good at making lists, Becca!
This is a compliment I hear a lot from colleagues and friends alike. Always meant sincere, it does have a backhanded element to it. It labels me organised, bureaucratic, predictable. Rebecca, the Excel Queen. Rebecca, mind you. Not Bec or Beckie. Not Becca, either. But people are so quick with shortening my name. Just as quick as with making list-related compliments.
A list, then – old-fashioned with pen and paper, in my girly handwriting:
- Restrains, 3 pairs (handcuffs, elbow cuffs, hobbles)
- Latex hood
- Ball gag
- Posture collar
- Nipple clamps
The following short story is based on my longer narration Pony Boot Camp and is written specifically for cpony.com. I had originally planned it as a medley of several existing chapters, but found them too entangled to be shortened. So the content in this story is all-new. It is also not entirely in sync with the main narration chronologically and canon-wise, but would have its place roughly around chapter 30.
Having read the source work isn’t necessary to enjoy Stand-Alone Stable. Seventeen, who is called Pony 17 here, is sentenced to 90 days in a special boot camp, where her group leader Kandrin shows her the darker sides of pony play.
Like the narration, the short story is meant for owners who like to be a tad mean to their ponygirls now and then.
Pony Boot Camp – Stand-Alone Stable
I gave a wince of pain as Miss Kandrin pulled my reins tight across the overhead bar just outside the tack room. Secured like this, I couldn’t even back off or lower my head without causing myself further pain. And if there was one thing bestowed upon me plenty, it was pain. So I stood straight and proud, rocking slightly in my pony boots which literally kept me on my toes.
“Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Pony 17. I told you what would happen if you show that attitude again.” Continue reading
Better Feared than Loved
Sleeping with somebody is considered to be the most intimate act to perform. Torturing them comes in a close second. In the light of this, Miss Cuntling and I were one step away from being fuck mates.
Kendrick might have been technically right about the abuse my fellow fillies and I were subjected to not being torture in that it wasn’t meant to extract confessions or information. He had applied a rather narrow definition, though. The purpose of interrogative torture may differ from the one of punitive torture; the underlying methodology stays the same. Pain may be inflicted for the sake of pain, but in the long run it is a means to an even more diabolical end. Continue reading