20 PSI on Stock Internals
My mind kept being preoccupied during the morning. Thoughts spun round and round in ever-same circles. Not the pondering of whether or not, but the agonising over how and when. I had set the upcoming new moon as the night of my escape, and if only to have an anchorage point. Taking the time I needed to prepare, essential as it was, held the danger of my being further deprived of physical and mental strength. With every day that the inhumane ideology behind the DACC could solidify, the abuse we were subjected to would increase.
Kandrin waved a small but bright torch in front of my face, and I flinched.
“Tongue out, Seventeen, and fucking keep it out!” Continue reading
As promised in the last post, here’s the short story inspired by the correspondence between LapinDeFer and me. Enjoy!
Bad Tail Day
Leaning against the wall of the barn’s central aisle, Émilie performed the ancient signal strength dance with her mobile in hand. Arm higher – zero bars. Turn to the right – null. Stretching to the left – why was she even trying?
Vahrenfeld was the largest ponygirl stable in private ownership; four separate barn buildings around a central coral hub, surrounded by tracks, trails, meadows and 600 square kilometres of wooded glens. And apparently not a single radio mast. The handlers’ quarters and the administrative area had Wi-Fi hotspots to satellite connections, but of course nobody could have been bothered to hand the password down to her. In vain Émilie had tried out the cardinal points of the cross-like structure arrangement. Now standing at the southern gate of the southern barn again she was running out of options and time. Her broom was waiting. Sliding her phone into the thigh pocket of her stable-issued cargo trousers Émilie shuffled back to her menial morning routine. Continue reading
A Good Pony
Today, Mirage was especially longing for her handler to arrive. As soon as the first rays of sunlight had lit up the barn, she had awoken with that deep urge. The same urge that was bothering her for days on end. But today was that day again, when she might be granted release from her hardship.
Pressing her haltered head against her stall’s door, she was just able to see the gate of the barn. But no matter how much the ponygirl whimpered and pawed, it remained closed. What took him so long?! Didn’t he know what day was today?! Continue reading
Today I am very excited to bring you an Alterations special, dedicated to the fine craft of leather work!
Kendrick, overseeing the tacking of all fillies, prevented Kandrin to enjoy herself even more by suggesting a trifle o’speed.
is changed into:
Kendrick, overseeing the tacking of all fillies in a combination of Stetson, double denim disaster and bolo tie, prevented Kandrin to enjoy herself even more by suggesting a trifle o’speed.
Rediscovering the bolo tie by chance, I knew it would be the perfect accessory for the lead handler to be worn on a special occasion. And choosing that fashion route, the Stetson hat is just a must-have. Continue reading
Once again – and maybe for the last time where I live – it’s the Hour of the Horse, my favourite made-up holiday which is surprisingly still not a “thing”. And what’s the best way to celebrate such an event? Right, a brand-new chapter of Pony Boot Camp! And what is the second-best way to celebrate? Right again, a Sneak Peek of a brand-new chapter! Here you go…! Continue reading
The one tacking me was of course Miss Cuntling – I don’t know why I even bother mentioning this explicitly. Soon I was tall on my hooves and ready for my harness with the high-collared leather yoke. For the ensemble an upgrade in form of a new crotch strap was available. Kandrin made sure I saw her fitting it. Replacing the simple belt was a length of braided leather, partly split like its predecessor. Somehow, in my capacity of deputy kit manager, my first thought was that the interwoven design would be difficult to clean. Those worries were quickly pushed aside by the prospect of multiple sharp leather edges working between my legs. Continue reading
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
Ponygirl Rescue Centre
Mirage was in a bad shape when we rescued her. There was literally no spot on her that hadn’t been whipped, flogged or cropped savagely. And the beatings had only been one facet of the mistreatment the feverish ponygirl had been forced to endure at the hands of her former stable master. Her shoulders were sprained and inflamed from the reverse prayer bondage her arms had been kept in almost constantly. Her feet showed first signs of misalignment, and she obviously suffered from pain in her knees – both evidence to ill-fitted hoof boots. She was also dehydrated, sadly a very common occurrence. An isotonic drink from a bicycle bottle took care of the worst. 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