Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (X)

As announced in my comment to Part LX, Pony Boot Camp finds its current continuation not in a separate submission, but in an extension to said part, because I want this special chapter to fully reflect the occasion, and because hubris is a real thing (a word count of over 7,800 may illustrate this point). You can now find the new material added to the paragraphs posted so far, or – convenient for those who have already read the original post – further down.

The lavish festivities for the 10^th anniversary are hereby concluded. So, full steam ahead to Skeleton Crew, Chapter III!

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Nine

Steal the Look

With Zero-One’s taste on my lips I sent my thoughts out again into the dark, onto those well-trodden paths of my escape scheme. The ease with which I had obtained the coil of wire had made me confident that I could salvage my ponysuit, if it really was my suit that I had seen in the chest. All it needed was good timing and a bit of dare. Not that there was much of a choice. Even when completed by the non-hoodie (a “noodie”?), my DACC-issued clothes were too thin to keep me warm at night, especially during rests. Yep, I would have to rest in between crossing heavy terrain at night, and I would prefer doing so without running the risk of hypothermia – or gleaming like a snowman.

Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (IX)

Looking over the latest part of PBC, I arrived at the conclusion that Seventeen’s third jaunt with her new bestie Hipser Beard deserves more than just a passing mentioning. The episode does not justify an own chapter, which also would have to take the form of a flashback scene. Therefore…

Part LVII

[…]

has a part added:

[see below and also in the already revised chapter itself]

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Seven

Trinkets, Odds and Ends

Here I was again. The dreamy ponygirl-in-training, basking in the crush on her handler and yearning for the day she would have earned her tail for good.

I am exaggerating obviously. And yet there was a stinging sensation running through me when I saw Hipster Beard and knew that soon he and not Kandrin would be driving me. A tad too eagerly I trapped myself in my ponyboots whilst he gathered the rest of my tack. I winced at the prompt onset of pain, the well-deserved backlash for failing to limber my feet up properly before locking them into the severe en pointe position.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Five

Weird Turned Pro

Dawn would not come lightly. After the near-perfect disaster that had been last night I woke from a mockery of sleep more exhausted than I had ever felt. Half-dreams filled with Zero-One’s sobbing, with thorns and haste clinged to me as I dragged myself to the little fall-in. An invigorated Kandrin gloated over our misery, yet spoke no word of the incident. She did not have to. Judgement would be upon the red-haired girl come eve.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Forty-Five

Best of Show

Welcome back to the First Annual Deepfall Advanced Correctional Centre Gymkhana, and to a most dedicated and fiery field of contestants. We left the action with pony 1308 having quite a nasty accident, which my esteemed co-moderator Tweedledum will now further analyse. Tweedledum?

You are Tweedledum. I’m Tweedledee, but never mind. And that punch looked nasty indeed. 1308 certainly has felt it all the way up to her stomach. Tail plugs always have the tendency to make their presence known to the tailee – which isn’t even an unwelcome side effect as it improves a pony’s bearing. Of course mishaps as just seen should be avoided if one does not want to end up with various sphincters busted.

A Dance in the Cage

 

A Dance in the Cage

You know the girls dancing in those cages at clubs? Sometimes on a pedestal, sometimes suspended over the raving crowd? Ever wondered how they ended up there and what makes them move all night?

Despite the allegedly soundproof glass Bianka felt the vibrations at her eardrums, in the pit of her stomach, in the tip of her pen. The bass pounded its way through every structure, item and living being in the whole building. It was the heartbeat of the club, and with the small hours of the night being near it was hammering wilder than ever. If the owner, manager and icon of Club Noir were to turn around from her desk, she would be able to overlook the main floor through the glass wall of her office. She would see the fetish folk celebrating its own depravity, loosing itself in the dark world the legendary Bianka Schönfeld provided. A world of masks and collars, of monogloves and hobble skirts, where leather was the new lace and black the new black. To the left the long cool-lit bar ran in a wide arc alongside the clubbing area, which in turn bordered at the right on the VIP lounge. Further in the back the entrance to the lower levels awaited those in search for more titillating activities. The rooms for this spicy kind of entertainment were soundproof, for sure.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Nine

Rubberise It!

As expected I was haunted by nightmares. Most scenes blurred into intangible phantasms of blood and screams upon waking. One dream sequence remained clear: me running about the camp and the waterfall, desperately trying to find Ten’s clothes.

At precisely early as fuck o’clock we were standing in the dark and cold for the little fall-in, our group leader facing us. A light yet persistent rain was coming down, and Kandrin wore a DACC issued rain cape far too wide for her small frame.

“Better get used to the weather. Autumn in these regions is fickle.”

She kept fighting with the rim of her hood, which again and again fell over her eyes.

“But what’s a bit of rain, right?”

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

Fashion Faux Pas

Fashion Faux Pas

Bianchetti had always been her first port of call during window shopping, and on today’s spree the exclusive boutique near the city’s financial quarter was confirming its status once again. Behind the glass façade, amidst LBD’s, designer clutches and outré court shoes Lorena discovered the short-sleeved top on one of the highly stylised mannequins. At first glance the item didn’t awake her interest. But then her eyes wandered back, and it intrigued her due to its unusual material. It was made of latex.