Category Archives: Pony Boot Camp

Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (VII)

Today I am very excited to bring you an Alterations special, dedicated to the fine craft of leather work!

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Part XXXXIV:

Kendrick, overseeing the tacking of all fillies, prevented Kandrin to enjoy herself even more by suggesting a trifle o’speed.

is changed into:

Kendrick, overseeing the tacking of all fillies in a combination of Stetson, double denim disaster and bolo tie, prevented Kandrin to enjoy herself even more by suggesting a trifle o’speed.

Rediscovering the bolo tie by chance, I knew it would be the perfect accessory for the lead handler to be worn on a special occasion. And choosing that fashion route, the Stetson hat is just a must-have. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Fourty-Seven

Torture of Proxy

Day two after the gymkhana, and I was still in limp home mode (I also was still on red alert, for those who are keeping book). Once again the wise and true word proved itself right that injured flesh hurt the most the day after tomorrow. After the fun of hyper-extreme nipple torture and forced self-inflicted clit flaying I felt like chewed and swallowed. According to public opinion, I looked the part, too. The thought of masturbating the edge off had come and gone – I couldn’t even pee without yelping. I was also positive I would never be able to wear bras or tops again; the fabric felt like sandpaper on my breasts. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-Six

Aftermath

Right now, Kendrick wasn’t a happy handler.

As whimsical and prone to antics as he might be, the staff leader always became noticeably ill-humoured as soon as he found his charges ridiculed – the fate of the four “winners” being a prime example. Kendrick truly held up the idea of a dignified ponygirl. Personally I always experience a certain lack of dignity when I drool out of my forced-open mouth whilst having a fake tail stuck up my arse. Better, then, to approach this concept from a different angle. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-Five

Best of Show

Welcome back to the First Annual Deepfall Advanced Correctional Centre Gymkhana, and to a most dedicated and fiery field of contestants. We left the action with pony 1308 having quite a nasty accident, which my esteemed co-moderator Tweedledum will now further analyse. Tweedledum?

You are Tweedledum. I’m Tweedledee, but never mind. And that punch looked nasty indeed. 1308 certainly has felt it all the way up to her stomach. Tail plugs always have the tendency to make their presence known to the tailee – which isn’t even an unwelcome side effect as it improves a pony’s bearing. Of course mishaps as just seen should be avoided if one does not want to end up with various sphincters busted. Continue reading


Sneak Peek: Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-Five

Once again – and maybe for the last time where I live – it’s the Hour of the Horse, my favourite made-up holiday which is surprisingly still not a “thing”. And what’s the best way to celebrate such an event? Right, a brand-new chapter of Pony Boot Camp! And what is the second-best way to celebrate? Right again, a Sneak Peek of a brand-new chapter! Here you go…! Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-Four

Gymkhana

The one tacking me was of course Miss Cuntling – I don’t know why I even bother mentioning this explicitly. Soon I was tall on my hooves and ready for my harness with the high-collared leather yoke. For the ensemble an upgrade in form of a new crotch strap was available. Kandrin made sure I saw her fitting it. Replacing the simple belt was a length of braided leather, partly split like its predecessor. Somehow, in my capacity of deputy kit manager, my first thought was that the interwoven design would be difficult to clean. Those worries were quickly pushed aside by the prospect of multiple sharp leather edges working between my legs. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-Three

Standards and Practices

It wasn’t a scream as such that the girl on the scaffold emitted. More of an overlap of coughing and gargling. She was the last one of the Twoers who had been in for a re-badging, and the smell of burnt ponygirl flesh had wafted over to me by now. Unlike with my own branding two weeks ago, our betters had decided to move the maintenance work on the more senior inmates forwards, maybe so the newbies had enough time to witness what was coming for them. There hadn’t been many from Group One and Two, anyway, and nobody from my barrack. I dreaded the day when it would be my turn to have my brands refreshed by the electric iron. Continue reading