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Pony Boot Camp – Part Thirty-Seven

… Goes Unpunished

“Since today all of you are in their third week here,” Kandrin stated correctly during the little fall-in the next morning. From Eleven up to me, it was day 15. The others of my group have had a one day head start.

“As stressed various times in the past, bearing is crucial for a ponygirl. Every move and every pose are to be inherently sublime. After two weeks a certain grip on basic techniques as well as personal engagement to constantly better yourselves is expected. Therefore poor executions will not be tolerated anymore.”

Our group leader chose not to enlighten us when such things had ever been tolerated. Continue reading

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Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Six

No Good Deed…

Waking up was cruel. I had received just enough sleep for my maltreated body to be teased into false repose. A drop of water whilst I was parched. Easing myself out of my bunk woke up all my pains as well. Some dull and throbbing as they were gnawing at my muscles, others playing with razor blades in my still fresh wounds.

The two and a half or so hours of sleep turned out to be a torment in disguise. Better to spare oneself the agony of awakening. One has to suffer through a day of woe anyway. In my more battle-hardened days I would party into my birthday, celebrate through my birthday, and let my birthday end with some serious clubbing. Of course this would involve ridiculous amounts of high-octane alcohol as fuel – something not easy to come by here. Not that I was able to tell whether today was my birthday. In my current state I was lucky to guess the right year. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Three

A Tail’s Tale

I couldn’t help but gulp as I studied the row of plugs draped on the big wooden table. It was tack duty for me again, so unlike in the kitchen yesterday, I was alone with my tasks. Well, not quite. Mr Nystrøm a.k.a. Slacker Boy was around as well, dumb smirk on his face. I bet he’d creamed his trousers over playing with my bum the other day. I was still furious that he had been allowed to tail and untail me. The stablehand was savouring this sweet memory ever since, and today he decided to rekindle its magic with a little allusion. Continue reading


Selfie (a.k.a. Rogue Tie)

Selfie (a.k.a. Rogue Tie)

You are always so good at making lists, Becca!

This is a compliment I hear a lot from colleagues and friends alike. Always meant sincere, it does have a backhanded element to it. It labels me organised, bureaucratic, predictable. Rebecca, the Excel Queen. Rebecca, mind you. Not Bec or Beckie. Not Becca, either. But people are so quick with shortening my name. Just as quick as with making list-related compliments.

A list, then – old-fashioned with pen and paper, in my girly handwriting:

  • Restrains, 3 pairs (handcuffs, elbow cuffs, hobbles)
  • Latex hood
  • Ball gag
  • Posture collar
  • Nipple clamps

Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Twenty-Eight

Once More with Feeling

The others had gathered in the tack room, already in various states of bondage. A handler from another group was deputising for Kendrick. Miss Cuntling caught up with me and shoved me towards him.

“Tack her up.”

As much as I wanted to wallow in self-pity for the rest of this glorious autumn day, I had to move on – or that bitch would make me move. It didn’t take much imagination and very little of the soreness radiating from my fresh piercing wounds to deduce that I was now even more vulnerable. So let’s pick up the action as Ersatz-Kendrick finished the boring standard tacking and stepped compliably aside for Miss C. to bring on the new and exciting stuff! Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifteen

Had Some Fun?

The sulky was parked at its place near the path, then I was parked in the barn’s shadow and deliberately ignored by Kandrin henceforth. Some minutes later the handler brought a small bucket with water and held it up for me to drink from. Greedily I slurped the liquid to wet my parched and sore throat and soothe the pain from my oral wounds. I had regained some degree of composure again, enough at least to become aware of what was happening around me. There was muffled activity inside the barn, and I reckoned it was Group One’s turn to play pony. Although hard to believe after my recent ordeal, our own foray had been mercifully short. So the Oners were in for a rather long stint to fill the gap to 18:00. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Twelve

Tailed

Indeed several handlers were already busy at the nearest corral. They had removed the top-most rail from a fence segment, and one was dragging the pull waggon closer. Those ponies completely harnessed were waiting nearby. The first one was 1308, a buxom lass with angry whip marks on her backside. As a handler led her to the fence, Kandrin pushed me in the girl’s old place, obviously jumping the queue.

“Take a good look.” Continue reading