Since chapter twenty-three won’t be finished before mid-June, I once again decided to use the dirty little trick of posting a sneak peek – only to find johnny’s comment (dated 9th of June under “Part Twenty-Two”). The gist of his polite and honest words is that the posting of new chapters is too infrequent to follow the story without rereading older parts.
His reaction to this circumstance (sooner not following the story anymore than seeing it being abandoned by the author for good) is something I have feared for quite some time. I am determined to publish at least one text per month, not necessarily a part of “Pony Boot Camp”. But as johnny stated correctly, I have got many other obligations. I work in a very time-consuming profession, and I do not apologise for splitting my spare time between my several hobbies.
When asked for whom I write, I answer: for me. I do not write for my readers in that I do not wonder if my decisions regarding both form and content are well received. I do publish for my readers, though. And I take their opinions and expectations seriously.
So what is to be done? Certainly I will not add a “previously on ‘PBC’…” to any new part. But I may grant this narration higher priority against my other stories in progress. Sneak peeks and announcements will keep the readers updated on the next chapter’s progress. And I can ensure that I will not abandon “PBC”, leaving Seventeen behind to suffer as a ponygirl with no hope for rescue.
@johnny: From your comment I understand you are a constant reader. I truly hope you stay with us. But if not, just make sure to stop by from time to time. And on one of those occasions you will find “Pony Boot Camp” finished and ready to be read as a single piece. Take care.
And now for the promised sneak peek:
“Your badges came out nice.”
If he was fishing for compliments, he had got the wrong lass. I’m normally not in the habit of ogling other girls’ bums, but right then and there in the tack room I was painfully aware of all the branded flesh around me. Kendrick approached with my bridle. It had the plain curb bit fitted.
“Word is you are a troublemaker. At the corral I want you to accept your tail without making any fuss and without needing somebody to hold you down. I trust you can be obedient if you want to. If not, we switch to Old Spikey.”
The spiked mouth bit I was threatened with the day before yesterday resided in clear sight on the green board. In my opinion that was a far better place than across my tongue which still bore the marks of Miss Cuntling’s barbed wire bit. And I didn’t want to risk again having my shoulders sprained by some brute forcing me over the corral rail.
“What shall it be? Pony language.”
I stomped once and allowed myself to be bridled. Having that thing in my mouth wasn’t so bad, I told myself. But I can only lie so much to people I like. The curb bit was as bad as it had been on the days before. When I was led towards the corrals my feet already ached again from being forced in so severe a position. And when I bent over the rail to receive my sexy tail I tensed up the moment the plug touched me.