Ponygirl Vet — Part Seven of All

Ponygirl Vet

Part 7 of All

Those ruminations from the human perspective had of course invited the wish for a complete picture to Vera’s notoriously avid mind. And what better way to achieve insights of that nature than pestering her favourite nocturnal work mate again? During what had become the night of her flogging, Adrian’s now-or-never attitude had caught her on the wrong foot. This time she had mentally prepared herself, had played the complete procedure through in her mind, including any variations and alternation she could think of. Vera had even chosen a more purposive set of clothing, so she wouldn’t have to hobble across the compound naked again. And so she stood before the near gate of the northern barn, dressed in a Stables-issued raincoat two sizes too large, her chucks, her inevitable glasses and nothing else.

Ponygirl Vet — Part Six of Y

Ponygirl Vet

Part 6 of Y

The tethered ponygirl remained docile when Vera eventually directed her attention towards the animal’s bum. Still, the vet registered the slight shudder in her patient, that tell-tale shift from arousal to distress. Anal insertion was part and parcel of pony training – those tails wouldn’t stick by themselves. Well, actually, they did. In tack-lingo the term “tail” referred to the unit as a whole, comprised of the insertable portion and the strand segment. Applejuice did not fight the removal in the slightest, yet had no full control over her fundament. The complex array of muscles flexed and relaxed around the pear-shaped rubber bulb it was trapping with its very own grip. Vera maintained a constant pull action, under which the taut ring finally opened.

Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (XI)

It comes to little surprise that the final part of Skeleton Crew will take some time, and I honestly see January of next year as the soonest possible release date. One cannot rush art (so why rush rubbish then?). To fill the void, let’s do some more tinkering with PBC, as Alterations X was of course a chapter in disguise.

Review and Preview 2022/2023

It’s not looking good, guys, it does not look good…

As some of you might already have realised, the year is about to end, which calls for another highly informative review/preview routine. And especially with the output on my multi-part stories I am not happy:

• Two new parts of Pony Boot Camp (gotta pump those numbers up!)
• Zero new parts of Æquinoctium (I don’t even know what to say.)

The tragedy here lies within the fact that at least three more parts of PBC are drafted out, and that for many moons I am 1,600 words deep into Chapter IX of Æquinoctium. I can only point at time as the limiting factor.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Two

Hierophant

As awe-inspiring as my driver’s tailing technique might be, it left me quite unsurprisingly with my tail sticking out of my bum, marking me as a demi-human at best. In that regard I was the same to H-Beard that I was to Kandrin, only his attitude towards such an entity was hopefully more benevolent. He did, however, believe in a well-split vulva just as everybody else around here. The thin leather belt, though oiled, brought fresh pain. But Kendrick’s delegate had earned so many bonus points during the last five minutes that he could use the electric branding iron on my clit and still win a popularity prize.

Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (VIII)

Since I did a little retconning on PBC, we can have some more fun with Roman numerals (because I once adopted them for the chapters to match the Alterations posts’ method of counting and am now stuck with ’em)!

~

Part XXX

Just for the records, I like castles and stuff. They’ve got something brooding, especially the razed ones. But I don’t wet myself over them like those “Lord of the Ice and Fire” fanboys do.

has a part added:

Just for the records, I like castles and stuff. They’ve got something brooding, especially the razed ones. But I don’t wet myself over them like those “Lord of the Ice and Fire” fanboys do. I know what I’m writing about; Sandrine’s and my next-door neighbours once had hunted us down with foam swords for intercepting their Chinese delivery. Turned out hardcore RPG nerds didn’t take well to having their level 15 Spring Rolls of Doom get nicked.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-One

Bliss

Adolf Würth founded his company shortly after the war, recovering from a minor career dent in 1945 just like his prominent Austrian namesake. Originally a screw wholesaler only, the Würth Group had risen to global market leadership in construction fittings over the decades. I had but superficially been aware of its existence, mainly due to the phonetic resemblance to my own surname. Until this morning…

The side cutter, sporting the red and black colour scheme of Würth’s heavy-duty tool line, was lying near the edge of the tack table. Every now and then Arne would pick it up to fumble with the pony boot sole he had committed himself to mend. I had a hard time keeping my enthralled eyes off it, to such an extent that he eventually held it out for me.

“Need to cut something?”

Pony Boot-Up

With the next part of Pony Boot Camp being of course delayed, the following short story may serve as a little appetiser which lets us revisit the D.A.C.C.’s more benign sister institution known in the ponyverse as The Orchard.

Pony Boot-Up

The cold touch of steel to her lips sparked a new surge of excitement through Firefly. Revelling in it, she willed her mouth shut to prolong the moment – and to tease her handler. Adam just kept the bit pressed against her lips, knowing that she was playing coy and would surrender to it timely.

“Feeling feisty today?”

Firefly lifted her pony-booted right foot and brought it back down for a snappy solitary hoof sound. An obedient filly, replying to her handler instantly and in appropriate fashion. That the answer itself defied this very action only added to their mutual game.

Wardrobe Fail

The following work is an expansion to my 2014 story “Fashion Faux Pas” and was commissioned by fellow author Jon Smithie (“Slavery 101“, “Mina Berkeley’s Voyage“), whose frequent input to its creation is highly appreciated (as is his patience).

Did that sick lady actually believe she was into this?!

All blood had drained from Lorena’s face, her stomach been deflated into itself. And still the tautness of her nipple chain led the path along the length of the boilers, past gaggles of pervy party-goers who congratulated Ariane on her latest conquest. Even in her distress Lorena noticed the difference in atmosphere back here. The industrial music was still prominent, yet clearly not aimed at this more private section. Patrons in pairs or small groups were obviously advancing on their voyage to debauchery. Silent assistance in it they were sure to find in the bar maids. She was positive there had been none of them in the main area, thus their services were exclusive for those willing to travel deeper into the iron abyss of the Boiler House.

Bridled Passion

Ten minutes into light canter the camp had hidden behind the wooded slope of the nearest hill. Keeping the reins in one hand, Adam gestured to the remaining two sulkies. After filing out of the Orchard Correctional Centre the ten teams of drivers and ponygirls had by and by dispersed to train in their individual speed. His colleagues signalled back over the threefold rhythm of hoof beat and bell chime. They kept following the main path as Adam had his pony sway left onto the smaller track before the solitary ash tree. The pressure of the bit to the left corner of her mouth acted as command, as gentle as compelling. Necessary it wasn’t, though, not with this mare. OCC schedule required the handlers to rotate within their respective group to become conversant with each pony’s quirks and needs for exercise. Thus it was only every tenth day that Adam could tack up Number Zero-Five, a time span that had grown almost unbearably long over the last several weeks. The Orchard did not name its stock beyond a number, but Adam had felt to do so with this one.