An Introduction to Farm Life

by Chris Bellows
- provided by the author for use on SirJeff's Ponygirls
- do not use without the author's permission.


From the recently published book ‘Billie and Mary, a Love Story’ by Chris Bellows, the noted author of over twenty D/s stories. This book is available through www.Lulu.com (item 314775, be sure to allow access to mature content). Other works are available from www.pinkflamingo.com. 



The characters... 

After months of discussion and planning, June weather arrives and Nicole takes Mary and Billie to her mother’s farm... 

That first week at DNIL Farm was a whirlwind.

I learned the following...

Nicole’s mother, known as the Baroness in having been born to a Prussian family of former nobility, spent much time in Europe and was away until July. A large painting hanging in the living room suggested she was blonde and blue eyed like Nicole. But the portrait was commissioned at an age when the Baroness was in her mid thirties. Thus there was presented an aura of authority which Nicole, in her early twenties, had not yet developed. In the painting the Baroness sat wearing the formal red jacket and beige jodhpurs of a regal equestrienne. A nasty quirt rested on her lap and one could imagine that a fractious pony boy had just laid there to have his naked buttocks chastised. I suspected that had Billie been offered a glance, his libido would react just as it had years ago in viewing those movies in my basement. Those which proved to be so telling of his proclivity.   

Nicole’s father, an extremely wealthy entrepreneur, traveled extensively on business and was not an afficionado of pony boys. Thus he minimized his time at the farm.    

Pammie ran things, for the most part. Frannie helped in the stables along with another ‘gelding’, as Pammie termed her boys, named John. Nicole called him ‘Jackie’.

DNIL farm could stable up to 20 pony boys. It was world renowned as a training facility and thus the human steeds came and went. Some, by arrangement, were trained for existing owners. Others were acquired by Nicole’s mother while she traveled the world, always seeking good stock. They were trained for later acquisition by an elite group of pony enthusiasts... women of Dominance who raced and exhibited their human beasts of burden with gusto.

While Billie was placed in first stage indoctrination I learned how to control a cart pony. And Nicole proved to be sagacious in her comments concerning access to the pony’s entire naked form and the view of well muscled buttocks straining under the whip hand of a woman of Dominance.

On the first morning after our arrival, Nicole knocked on my bedroom door after a night’s rest filled with colorful dreams.

“Here’s what we usually wear when working the ponies. Simple and comfortable garments which can easily be washed.”

She tossed onto the bed two swatches of cloth.

“Jackie will be in to assist you. You’ll see that there’s no need for shyness with him.”

Nicole snickered wickedly as she turned to leave. I picked up the smaller of the two swatches. Some four inches wide, the garment was somewhat elastic and continuous, the ends attached to form a circle. The larger was some eight or nine inches wide and also continuous. It became evident that the smaller was to surround my chest and cover my breasts like a tube top. The larger was to encircle my hips. The elasticity held the coverings in place and one could slip in and out of the garments in seconds. As I was to later learn, the design also provided immediate access to a woman’s more sensuous areas.

Jackie entered and curtsied like a little girl. He looked remarkably similar to Frannie and throughout my stay I would have difficulty distinguishing the two. I immediately determined the source of Nicole’s snicker. As with Frannie, Jackie was also fixed, the emaciated penis with the tiny tuft of furled flesh below suggesting that his prized reproductive organs had been summarily removed. Still, when my neutered little man servant stepped into the shower, turned the water to a very comfortable degree of warmth and then beckoned for me to join him, I paused. Other than furtive afternoons of steamy carnal relations with Walter, I had not before exposed myself to a member of the opposite gender. And even with Walter I was never completely naked, concerns over his mother’s unexpected early return mandating the precaution of partial covering.       

But something clicked within suggesting that Jackie’s missing male parts obviated concerns about shyness. So I disrobed and discovered the wonders of having a naked and neutered body servant perform morning ablutions. I joined Jackie in the large shower stall and the docile castrate gently soaped and laved everywhere. His small hands were of smooth softness, more like a child’s than an adult male. I commented as a kneeling Jackie delicately soaped my thighs.

“The Baroness, she makes us apply lotion and wear gloves at night,” Jackie explained.

When Jackie reached my pudendum, he performed admirably in cleansing where neither male hands nor fingers had ever before performed such a personal deed... for that matter, neither female hands nor fingers. He was amazingly well trained, carefully working around my sensitive inner labia and clitoral hood.      

When he cleaned my anus I was pleasantly surprised to feel the warmth of his tongue complete the task.

“The Baroness says that’s to ensure a thorough job. I must make you clean enough to lick.”

He licked more, placing his tiny hands on my hips and pressing his face deep within the cleft of my cheeks. I experienced a thrill of exquisite delight as his tongue and lips assiduously worked and worked. I finally deduced that his training was such that he would continue servicing me there until I commanded him to stop. So I just absorbed the pleasure and let the spray of warm water titillate my crinkling nipples as Jackie introduced me to a daily ritual at DNIL farm. No woman bathed alone. And every nether region was cleansed to a level of purity which fostered oral service. 

Jackie later dried me and assisted with the simple DNIL Farm wardrobe. When I stepped into the small circle of elastic cloth, the soft tiny hands slid the stretchable fabric up and over my boobies. Likewise I stepped into the large circle and he slid that up to cover my hips. Nothing was worn beneath and I quickly learned of the utility of the design when Jackie playfully folded up the hem of the lower garment and gave my rear crevice one final lick. I giggled, turned and pushed my naked kneeling neutered toy away.

“Enough,” I admonished, having to face the day with such an ecstatic introduction to the power a woman wields at DNIL Farm.

Jackie smiled and led me to breakfast where Frannie was serving Nicole, also dressed in elastic tubes.

“Enjoy your shower? she coyly inquired with a smile.

Yes, I was flushed from the sensation of Jackie’s tongue lapping away where no erotic homage had before been paid, evidencing what Nicole knew... that my late arrival was due to her mother’s mandated morning routine.

“Yes, and you?”

Nicole laughed again.

“It is a wonderful way to greet the day. Their tongues are strong and tireless. Mother has trained them well. And with those quick snips ending any hope of attaining sexual pleasure, they seem to relish that of others.”

I nodded in agreement. Jackie did indeed seem to take delight in the otherwise defiling deed of licking my rear aperture.

The scene at breakfast proved to set one’s libido for a typical day at the farm. Watching totally naked and subservient males, altered at the behest of a Dominant woman, scurrying about in service warms one to the hierarchy. As the table was cleared, Nicole dipped her fingers into the butter and called Frannie to her side.

“Let’s see who’s bigger,” she cooed as if introducing a child to a new game.

Frannie giggled as he placed his hands atop his head. Nicole used the butter to lubricate the tiny appendage flopping about between his legs. She stroked, most dextrously, and I was amazed to see the flaccidity of the tiny shaft slowly turn to firmness. As I had noted in her tendance of Billie, Nicole was expert in handling the male organ and Frannie’s little penis soon stood at a humiliating three inches. I noted that he was circumsized most tightly, not a hint of loose foreskin remaining.

“Your turn Jackie,” she announced.

My shower partner stood to her opposite side and within a minute his penis was slathered with butter and pusillanimously stood at nearly an identical height.

“Contrary to most thinking, castrates can achieve an erection,” Nicole lectured in stifling laughter. “The real question is, ‘what do they do with it?’”

With that she outright laughed, simultaneously stroking both insignificant shafts then toying with the empty sacs to heighten the humiliation and further emphasize their frustration. The boys flushed with embarrassment but also reveled in the pleasure of Nicole’s touch. Finally she took a butter knife and used it to compare first the length of Jackie’s tiny penis and then Frannie’s.

“Looks like Jackie wins again,” she announced with glee.  

Jackie smiled and stepped back. A dejected Frannie moved around Nicole’s chair, knelt and extended his hands to steady himself on Jackie’s hips.

“Only a little, Frannie. We’re due in the stables.”

Just as I had discovered the strength and stamina of Jackie’s tongue during morning ablutions, I now witnessed the same with Frannie. It became apparent that the loser of Nicole’s game provided fellatio to the winner... for a comparatively enormous tongue thrust forth and began licking Jackie’s empty sac. Then as Frannie’s hands pulled at Jackie’s hips, the entire erection, all three stiff inches, was engulfed. With the frisson of pleasure, Jackie squealed like a little girl.    

“Another advantage of neutering... unbridled bisexuality...” Nicole offered with a smirk. We watched in silence as Jackie obediently stood, hands on head while his cohort licked and sucked. Finally Nicole gave Jackie’s girlish buttocks a firm swat.

“Enough.”

And with the end of the curious exhibition, Nicole arose to lead me to the stables.

“Pammie has suggested you take Big Ned out for a jaunt. He’s quite experienced... one of Mom’s favorites... and he needs both the exercise and the feel of the whip. The exercise wheel just doesn’t do it.”

I began to inquire about the exercise wheel but Nicole moved briskly. Jackie and Frannie skipped along behind us as we strolled out the kitchen door into the bright sunshine of a cloudless day. Within a few yards there came into view an area outside the stable where some half dozen naked males were tethered to a large circular device. The group slowly walked in circles, each nose grommet hooked to a lead line which was attached above to what could only be described as long spokes. The dozen or so spokes emanated from a capstan which slowly turned counter clockwise, forcing whomever or whatever was attached to the spoke to follow. I paused to watch. Each pony boy had his arms restrained behind him by way of a short chain hooked to the elbow grommets. A hobbling chain connected the ankle grommets necessitating many short steps as the capstan turned and tension on the lead line compelled the pony boy to keep up.   

“That’s the exercise wheel,” I observed, making a statement and answering my own question. 

“Yes, the boys spend hours and hours staying in shape. It’s tedious but makes them eager to be harnessed and run. That building over there has another wheel... indoors for the winter months.”

I could not help further delaying in order to watch the naked forms slowly plod in circles, vigorously shuffling their feet to maintain slack on the lead line and thus ease pressure on the nose grommets. Each pony was a marvelous specimen of male brawn, their well muscled forms appearing to be chiseled from stone. The short steps exaggerated the motion of their genitals with the older ponies having long scrotal sacs filled with testicles the size of plums. I noted that the phalli of three of the ponies were flaccid, and the penises swung about like elephant trunks. The other three were partially erect, the firmness bringing a delightful bobbing about which I always enjoyed in observing Billie move about while stimulated. Two bore the weight of parachutes, obviously recent arrivals being stretched. As the profile of one giant figure turned more towards me I noticed that the bright sun caused something to glint at the penis tip. A rather sizable ring pierced the urethral opening. Further observation revealed that every pony boy donned a ring. I was later to learn it was termed a Prince Albert piercing.

In staring so closely at the genitals, it was then that I more fully understood Pammie’s reserved comment about Billie’s size. Every pony boy at DNIL Farm had been selected for his penis length. Indeed, by comparison, Billie would be considered average amongst the herd. The notion prompted a thought.     

“Where’s Billie?”

“Oh Pammie has him tucked away in isolation. It’s part of the process. You can visit him if you’d like. But communication is not permitted. I suggest taking a ride first.”

We continued, turning the corner of the building to arrive at a the tacking area. There stood Pammie... and there stood Big Ned. My eyes immediately moved to a where a woman of dominance is likely to gaze at the well bound and naked male. And the derivation of Big Ned’s moniker became quite obvious. This huge harnessed beast, skin as black as coal as a result of day after day of exerting in the sun, had a penis the size of a telephone pole. It was similarly ringed at the tip and stood most prodigiously with Pammie’s index finger playfully diddling the underside of the frenulum.

Just as I will never forget that rainy afternoon when first introduced to Billie, neither shall I ever forget my first cart ride.

The standard riding carts at DNIL are light and simple, designed so that a pony could be worked for many miles of high speed journey before succumbing to exhaustion. For the most part the conveyance was somewhat like a sulky used in harness racing but with a much more comfortable seat for the equestrienne.  

Big Ned had his elbows clipped together behind his back in what I was to learn was the constant state of restraint at DNIL farm. He was harnessed with what appeared to be a single narrow leather strap. It wrapped about the back of his neck and slung forward over his shoulders where it crisscrossed his chest and then pulled back to where it wrapped about his stomach twice. The ends were threaded through the standard pony grommets penetrating his flesh at the hips. To connect him to the cart, the ends of the leather strap, left and right, were buckled to two parallel horizontal poles emanating from the front of the cart. Thus in pulling, the stress of the cart’s weight was cleverly borne by the strap which transferred the tension to the pony boy’s entire upper body. This configuration allowed the pony boy to lean into the simple harness in order to pull and minimize strain on any particular part of the anatomy. I imagined that in being tightly bound it made the pony feel as if he was made part of the cart. It also maximized his exposure, leaving most of his body uncovered and not only delightfully available for chastisement but also nicely exhibited to the equestrienne and other interested feminine eyes.

As stated, Pammie’s teasing finger had Big Ned as stiff as a board. She smiled in noticing my gawking expression and stepped away, teasingly pinching Big Ned’s cheeks as I was afforded an unimpeded view of the largest penis I had ever seen. Big Ned approached twelve inches.

“Could use some help,” she pleasantly badgered our two naked and neutered companions, skipping along behind us.

Frannie and Jackie dove into the task. Jackie knelt and Big Ned stirred noticeably when two effeminate hands took hold of his erection, bent it down somewhat and began performing fellatio, Big Ned’s enormous ringed penis tip just fitting into Jackie’s tiny mouth. Frannie retrieved a bridle and the giant pony boy docilely lowered his head to permit encasement. I noted that there was no bit. Instead two thin lines of leather were attached to Big Ned’s nose grommet, one threaded through a steel ring on the left side of the bridle, another through a ring on the right. When Big Ned began to moan with the intense pleasure, Jackie withdrew his lips and forcefully kept the mammoth phallus pointed downward at a more awkward angle. Meanwhile, with Frannie completing his task, a humbler was retrieved and Big Ned obediently spread his feet while another set of softened hands drew testicles the size of apples back between his parted thighs. There such were dextrously entrapped between the parallel boards. As Frannie tugged then tightened, I noticed that Big Ned was forced to bend somewhat at the waist. Otherwise he neither moved nor protested as his gonads were restrained and held in place between the two boards pressing against the back of his thighs.

The harnessing of Big Ned was rapid and mechanical with all parties dutifully testing and adjusting bridle, humbler and harness strap. Finally, Jackie released Big Ned’s turgid manhood, letting it snap upwards to thump against his belly. He then skipped to a waiting cart to roll it up behind a thoroughly bound and subjugated human pony.

“Use it liberally, Mary. I assure you Bid Ned revels in the attention,” Nicole advised in handing me the nastiest of quirts.       

She nodded toward the comfortable seat of the cart, indicating for me to sit. I was quivering with  anticipation in lowering myself. The design of the vehicle placed me sitting at eye level with the hairless dark brown of Big Ned’s balls just inches in front of my face. Above were powerful buttocks, the upper left cheek keloided with the letters ‘DNIL’. Yes, Big Ned had been branded and this seemed to make his globes beg for the application of the whip. If I extended my arm somewhat I could apply a little snap of the quirt to Big Ned’s nipples. When Frannie gathered together the thin lines attached to Big Ned’s nose grommet and gently handed me the ends, I thrilled with the notion of empowerment. The slightest tug forced my human equine to move his head in the direction of my choosing. With his endless training, I knew Big Ned’s body and feet would follow.    

“Light on the reins,” Pammie aphoristically suggested in observing me pulling right and left on the leather lines.

“Take him around the house first. When you’re comfortable there are many miles of trails and some very scenic country. Keep him well watered,” Nicole advised in placing a plastic water bottle in a holder to my right side.

“Tether his ankle grommets while resting. Ponies feel more comfortable in firm bondage,” Pammie added in pointing to paraphernalia stowed on the left side of my seat. “Use the blindfold to calm him. Tighten the pressure plate when resting.” 

With the standard utterance of ‘giddup’ I extended my right arm and snapped the quirt to apply a most painful nip to Big Ned’s right nipple. I felt the most delicious shudder of the cart in having  my desire and intent transferred into motion. I also shuddered, but it was a quiver of delight, realizing that my five foot four, one hundred and fifteen pound frame had complete authority and control over a huge thoroughly subjugated male. Big Ned was easily six foot six and more than twice my weight.

I directed the reins and with some moderate applications to his scrotum, Big Ned was soon cantering with the cart circling the house. Pammie and Nicole smilingly watched and I felt like a child taking her first bicycle ride.     

Watching his entrapped balls flopping back and forth provided visual ecstasy. It was a sight I was not privy to in riding Billie as I did. I once again recalled Nicole’s words in describing the heady sensation of being imbued with power over a cart pony. Access to the entire body... joy in watching the straining buttocks.

In completing the second lap around the house, the growing warmth of mid morning brought Big Ned to a lather. His wetness made his black skin begin to shine. Strokes of the quirt applied to the buttocks began to make the sound of a crisp snap. I felt my own wetness form beneath the spandex encircling my hips.

After a third lap, rider and pony were one, Big Ned instantly responding to every tug on the rein and snap of the quirt. I waved to Nicole and Pammie, gesturing that I was eager to explore and directed Big Ned to a well worn and dusty path leading toward the distant ridge. A vigorous stroke to the testicles brought him to a full gallop. Perspiration gathered to form rivulets which began to stream down Big Ned’s shoulders there to be captured and absorbed by the leather strap. From the waist downward the abundant moisture dribbled to his feet and ankles where it was eventually flung to the soil.      

It was a crisp clear June day. Within moments we were out of sight of the farm house and all evidence of civilization. Numerous side paths branched off right and left into thick undergrowth. I wanted to explore them all but had Big Ned stay on what appeared to be the main thoroughfare which slowly inclined as we neared the ridge. The slope provided a need for encouragement as I detected my naked pony begin to strain. The quirt nurtured renewed effort. I found that snaps to the well exposed testicles incurred the most immediate response. Such also enhanced my own joy... whipping the balls of the thoroughly restrained and naked male.  

When would Billie be ready for such excursions?

Big Ned’s labored but steady breathing suggested he was indeed a most experienced pony. Despite the increasing degree of inclination, his pace remained almost constant. Some flicks of the wrist insured that his effort continued to be maximized.  

With sweat gushing from every pore, my own moisture flowing between my thighs, pony and rider finally reached the peak of the ridge. I gently pulled on both reins and Big Ned knew to bring the cart to a halt. The view was exhilarating. Well focused eyes spied the state highway well off on the horizon. The farm house and stable could be seen nestled within a seclusion of green grasses and flowering shrubbery below and some mile or more away. I found myself smiling in arising from the low seat. My tiny white hand patted the blackened buttocks of my steed and I tenderly kneaded the entrapped testicles I had spent the past half hour excoriating with the quirt.

Big Ned’s breathing slowed to less frequent large gulps of air. He remained leaning somewhat forward, the humbler forcing him to tension the harness straps. As instructed, I clipped the tethering chain from one ankle grommet to another. For the first time I used the pressure plate attached to the humbler. It was a separate block of wood loosely connected to the humbler just where the base of the scrotum exited the elliptical hole. Wing nuts permitted the controlling equestrienne to tighten the nuts and further pressure the entrapped testicles. This added a wonderful reminder of total governance disavowing the pony boy of making any sudden movements. Pammie explained that the tightness also made the more experienced pony boys feel more comfortable, the years of bondage mentally equating to the exacting care of a firm woman... for which all pony boys pined.

Sufficiently tightened, I then reached for the water bottle. Using the reins, I pulled Big Ned’s face down to the level of my chest. There I held him by his nose grommet as I inserted the plastic straw into his mouth and squeezed. He imbibed greedily, never breaking the DNIL Farm rule of silence but otherwise communicating his gratitude with broad licks of his tongue on my offered hand. I giggled in feeling the warm wetness glide over my fingers. When the bottle emptied his attention completely diverted to licking my digits. I playfully captured the wet appendage between thumb and index finger and slowly drew it out from between his lips. It seemed everything with Big Ned was outsized, for the pink span unfurled to such an obscene length that I was eventually able to hold it in the palm of my hand.

“You are a big one,” I laughingly observed, thinking of how Billie’s tongue and lips so arduously serviced my nether regions.

Despite the glee and exhilarating view of the landscape, I was saddened to realize that Billie’s first stage indoctrination would last a week. I missed his tendance.

Then I recalled the blindfold. Then I recalled how Jackie had so easily folded up the hem of the spandex garment surrounding my hips to provide access to feminine parts pink. 

It was just me and Big Ned... and Big Ned was totally under my control.

Yes, I reached for the blindfold. Yes, I facilely covered Big Ned’s eyes. Yes, I rolled up the broad tube covering my pudendum. And yes, Big Ned’s over sized tongue eagerly found my mons. He was easily guided by the scent of my essence.

“Down, I finally commanded feeling goose bumps form with the thrill of several ebullient licks.

I pulled on the lines attached to the nose grommet. He knelt and with his inordinate height still had to bend at the waist to service me. But that broad long tongue was impressively well trained. He dutifully lapped my outer labia, snuggled his tongue inward and laved my inner labia. When it finally thrust into my vagina, I was reminded of the afternoons copulating with Walter... the tongue was that large.

Yes, my first cart ride. I was overwhelmed with the beautiful scenery, my new found power, the isolation, the regimented existence of the pony boy versus the leisurely life of the equestrienne.

In feeling my knees begin to buckle, my strength ebbing, I likewise rolled up the spandex covering my breasts. Then, to give my quim a respite, I had Big Ned suckle my nipples.

Lunch time was more than an hour off. The descent to the stables would be quick. Big Ned’s tongue was dauntless. There was time... there was unending sentient energy.

I eventually stepped out of the simple coverings altogether and lounged about completely naked, enjoying the view and permitting my blinded pony boy to access every square inch of my flesh. And with his forced chastity, Big Ned stayed just that way... big. His erection remained pressing against his stomach for the entire time as he orally serviced. And his reward? I teasingly diddled the underside of his standing penis just below that huge ring. For what more could a pony boy ask?