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
The usual maintenance, you know the drill…
Gathering quick momentum from the waist, I brought my horse shoe armoured forehoof around and delivered a beautifully executed sucker punch straight to her left tit.
is changed into:
Gathering quick momentum from my waspie’d waist, I brought my horse shoe armoured forehoof around and delivered a beautifully executed sucker punch straight to her left tit. Continue reading
We Interrupt this Ponyplay Porn to Bring You More Crap about Wood Elves
“You look like shit.”
“Yeff, ma’am,” I mumbled meekly.
No-one could argue with her statement. That Miss C. had brought it up during the group fall-in showed bad form, yet held nothing new to the other girls. More than once I had woken them up with my groans during the night. Having them witnessed the effects of my punishment fell in line with Kandrin’s “show, don’t tell” doctrine.
“You have my permission to see the doctor.”
“Fhank you, ma’am.” Continue reading
It is not without pride that I announce that with the last chapter, Part Forty-One, Pony Boot Camp has broken the 100,000 words barrier. According to my processing program, the current version including chapter headlines and so on is sporting exactly 102,520 words!
[pause for applause] Continue reading
I didn’t know how Sixteen was about to get back to the camp. I didn’t care beyond curiosity, neither. Even about my own fate I mused in a detached state of mind. In the wake of my fit of temper I was trapped in dark, almost self-destructive euphoria. I would be disciplined, that was for sure. Yet I hadn’t got the faintest idea about how harshly my actions would be dealt with. If I had attacked a staff member, things would turn extremely ugly. But another pony? I wasn’t even sure whose jurisdiction I was under in the case at hand. Kendrick’s? Miss Cuntling’s? The warden’s? Did they differ? Did it matter?
Maybe I would be long-term bridled like Eleven, maybe I would be hugging the whipping post. Continue reading
Day two after Ten’s flogging began as a carbon copy of most others. Kandrin’s whistle. Small fall-in. Morning run. But this time I took a closer look at the fences. The rolls of razor wire on top of both the inner and the outer barriers made climbing them a bit tricky. Maybe I could dig a shallow pit under each fence and squeeze myself through. It was still way too dark to determine if and how the wire mesh was secured to the ground. In the eastern and southern section where buildings stood close enough to the perimeter to shed some light, I found the bases either overgrown by grass or covered in wet leaves. Continue reading
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?” Continue reading