Tag Archives: bondage

Sneak Peek: Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Six

As a proof that our favourite ponygirl Seventeen is alive and well (in a relative sense) I brought you a little sneak peek of “Pony Boot Camp – Part Thirty-Six”. But as mentioned in my last post it will take a while for the whole chapter to be published. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty

Serendipity

I didn’t sleep well. My sexy new piercings made my flesh throb constantly, and the blanket hurt whenever it rubbed across them. Half the night I lay awake, listening to the tossing and groaning from the other bunks. The morning wasn’t noticeably better, giving the crying fit I had upon seeing my septum-ringed face in the mirror. It didn’t instil much hope for the rest of the day, especially with pony training lurking at 09:30.

“Ah, there you are,” Kendrick greeted me as though we had arranged to meet for lunch. He pulled me out of my group as soon as I had taken my clothes off in the tack room. Then the lead handler also grabbed Ten and Fifteen for good measure. Continue reading


Spoiled Rotten

Spoiled Rotten

“If you are a real painslut, you will be spoiled rotten tonight.”

I had made it very clear to Portia that the members of my depraved little circle were committed to the darker ways of BDSM. Marks that would last for weeks were a must-have, safewords a no-go. Portia emitted an affirmative grunt from behind the gag. Any intelligible sound was permitted by the huge rubber orb, and nodding would have interfered with my tightening her head harness.

A two inch ball gag would have silenced her nicely. 2.5 inches was her limit. I had gone for a three-incher. The rest of her body would be in tremendous pain within the hour, so why shouldn’t her mouth as well? Alternately I tightened the horizontal main strap and the facial straps running along both sides of her nose and – as one – across the crown of her head. With every tug the ball was pulled deeper into her straining mouth. We were working our way towards total gaggage for several minutes already, and the nude woman kneeling in front of me was experiencing the first cramps. She would get used to them. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Eighteen

Show, Don’t Tell

Lunch was light, as expected. Fruits and lettuce with a site of more lettuce. Our feast was supervised by the same two guards I’d encountered in the mess before. It struck me as odd that Tweedledum and Tweedledee regularly worked the same shift together. But hey, love always finds a way! As usual they hauled their ready-to-burst egos up and down the aisles, barking at inmates for no reason at all. Self-important yet intellectually ill-equipped, they were prime examples of common thugs. They bullied and hassled alright, but lacked the refined sadism of, say, a Seva Kandrin. Continue reading


Sneak Peek: Pony Boot Camp — Part Eighteen

Greetings, fellow pony enthusiasts! Of late I was a bit busy with parallel projects, some of which being other literary endeavours (those in the know can tell why “Return to Skyrim” and the sixth Part of “House of Cthulhu” had to be released on their respective dates). But “Pony Boot Camp – Part Eighteen” is on its way, and there’s even a sneak peek! Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Seventeen

Seventeen

After an alarmingly short night’s rest it was the whistle once more that awoke me. I made it just in time to the washroom to puke into one of the toilets as the enormity of my situation hit me again. A nasty way to start the day, but it would pass. It had to. The same had happen to me at my very first stay in a holding cell, after I’d been nicked for the sacrilegious crime of dismounting pointless speed limit signs. Never been locked up before, I’d been overwhelmed by the consequences of my statement on traffic regulations. Apparently it hadn’t chimed with the opinions of the blokes who had ordered the signs to be put there in the first place. Being basically a bunch of hippies and communists, they couldn’t bear the thought that a) anybody would be able to drive faster than somebody else, and that b) anybody would excide the mind-blowing velocity of 30 km/h anywhere. Securing at least a moral victory, I’d never spilt where I had hidden the abducted signs (which had cost me an extra fine). But I digress. Back then the sickness had passed, and so would it do now. What wouldn’t pass was Kandrin’s hazing of us. That woman had a serious inferiority complex, judged by how hard she pressed her group to be the quickest and tidiest and most teachable. With the bile still burning in my damaged mouth, I stumbled outside for the little fall-in.

I forgot to introduce myself: My name is Seventeen. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Eleven

Curbed Ardour

Our fate was sealed, and no mistake. Back to the corrals we went, where preparations for the next phase of our breaking in had been made. Kandrin was leading Fifteen, Sixteen and me. On the grass next to the short path between barn and paddock area the sulkies were parked, ready for us. To say I had a sinking feeling in my guts as we high-stepped past them would be an understatement. The handlers made us stay, not quite in line, but in a somewhat looser formation. Whatever they had in mind would need a bit of space. Continue reading