Tag Archives: fetish

Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (V)

The fifth instalment of “How not to write a story”…

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Part XXXVII:

It was a bitter mockery that pony training was scheduled as our first activity.

is changed into:

It was a bitter mockery that pony training had been rescheduled to be our first activity. Continue reading

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Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Eight

Welcome to the Stud

Ten regained some degree of consciousness as she was unhooked from the whipping post, and I pitied her for that. The lashed girl was shaking violently, shivering as if exposed to freezing cold – although she seemed to burn up at the same time. The guards dragged her naked form down the platform and away, leaving the whip and the Ten’s clothing behind. The lady doc followed without too much of a haste.

If Warden Navier addressed some final words of righteous anger to us, I did not process them. I couldn’t clear my mind from the images of the blood whipping I had just witnessed. This quality of cruelty, this wilful physical and mental destruction of a human being would never fail to make me sick to my stomach. Continue reading


Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (IV)

Again it is time for our popular series “things Venom, that dork, has botched up because he hasn’t got the first idea of what he is scribbling down”.

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Part XXXVII:

I didn’t recognise the steep glade, but deduced that I was south-west of the camp, yet still east of the river.

is changed into:

I didn’t recognise the steep glen, but deduced that I was south-west of the camp, yet still east of the river.

I changed this quite shortly after uploading the chapter, so most of you have read the altered version. “Glade” had indeed been the word of choice originally, but “glen” created the better picture, so I decided to swap the terms. I simply forgot it till after the publishing, though. Continue reading


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