Happy Hour of the Horse!

Working late tonight, I became suddenly aware that the clock will be turned from light saving time back to standard time (at least where I live). This “additional” hour has been a key in a chapter of Pony Boot Camp – and I am alarmed that a full year has gone by since I wrote said chapter! I’ve literally clicked on “publish” for it to be submitted just yesterday!

A Dance in the Cage

 

A Dance in the Cage

You know the girls dancing in those cages at clubs? Sometimes on a pedestal, sometimes suspended over the raving crowd? Ever wondered how they ended up there and what makes them move all night?

Despite the allegedly soundproof glass Bianka felt the vibrations at her eardrums, in the pit of her stomach, in the tip of her pen. The bass pounded its way through every structure, item and living being in the whole building. It was the heartbeat of the club, and with the small hours of the night being near it was hammering wilder than ever. If the owner, manager and icon of Club Noir were to turn around from her desk, she would be able to overlook the main floor through the glass wall of her office. She would see the fetish folk celebrating its own depravity, loosing itself in the dark world the legendary Bianka Schönfeld provided. A world of masks and collars, of monogloves and hobble skirts, where leather was the new lace and black the new black. To the left the long cool-lit bar ran in a wide arc alongside the clubbing area, which in turn bordered at the right on the VIP lounge. Further in the back the entrance to the lower levels awaited those in search for more titillating activities. The rooms for this spicy kind of entertainment were soundproof, for sure.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Nine

Rubberise It!

As expected I was haunted by nightmares. Most scenes blurred into intangible phantasms of blood and screams upon waking. One dream sequence remained clear: me running about the camp and the waterfall, desperately trying to find Ten’s clothes.

At precisely early as fuck o’clock we were standing in the dark and cold for the little fall-in, our group leader facing us. A light yet persistent rain was coming down, and Kandrin wore a DACC issued rain cape far too wide for her small frame.

“Better get used to the weather. Autumn in these regions is fickle.”

She kept fighting with the rim of her hood, which again and again fell over her eyes.

“But what’s a bit of rain, right?”