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Dear Readers…

Dear readers,

it is with a heavy heart that I announce yesterday’s Part Thirty-Six to be the last chapter of Pony Boot Camp. This wasn’t an easy decision to make, but I came to understand that it was the right one. For some time now those in the know have been aware that ponygirls are an endangered species, and lately several large Internet platforms – including WordPress – have drawn the consequences from this sad fact. In accordance with a code of ethics enunciated by the animal rights organisation PETA (http://www.peta.org/coe/savethepony) all portrayals of abuse and mistreatment of ponygirls are to be removed from the participating sites. Of course I will follow this appeal, and furthermore will refrain from creating and providing any controversial material. I am sure you, the readers, will support this important mission.

Take care, and Power to the Ponies!


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


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-Four

Social Interaction

No sooner had I finished my reading than Sixteen materialised next to my bunk. She turned her bleach-blond haired head left and right, as to make sure she would not be overheard.

“I think they put stuff in our food.”

I made the fatal error of humouring her:

“What stuff?”

Stuff!

Oooh, stuff…! I sat up on the bunk edge.

“Mind expanding on this a bit?” 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


Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Two

Playing with the Cool Kids

Right now, Fifteen wasn’t a happy pony.

Right now, she was leading our party of seventeen sulkies, she herself being led by Kendrick’s firm yet knowing hand. He had switched carts (but not ponies) at the last minute because something at his seat had cracked and couldn’t be fixed in a trice. It could still carry Kandrin, though, who would literally be half his weight whilst carrying a knapsack full of bricks. So it came to pass that Fifteen found her slender self harnessed to the first sulky in line. 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