Jen, a Pony-Girl Story

by A. Broadsword
- do not use without the author's permission.



Synopsis: Jennifer Fforbes a executive PA and an enthusiastic amateur pony-girl is tricked into becoming a full time Pony.
Another unpublished 2008 story updated and uploaded following a request from a reader who likes my earlier work better!

Only Second Overall.

"You are quiet."

Jack Newbold observed as Jennifer Fforbes, his PA drove her Corvette through the tortuous turns of the highway back to town.

"You were second overall, are you not pleased?" he asked

"And twenty seven places ahead of the next amateur" she smiled.

"Phil says it was the arms" he probed.

"Always why was I not first, never the success," she sighed.

"But you are so close, Jen," Jack observed

"I can't help it," Jen explained, "I need to work and that spoils my posture, and I like my work, I don't want to sacrifice that for transient success.

"You don't need to work, you will be paid to train," he assured her.

"What live like an animal? No thank you, I do this for you," she replied, "I think I do enough"

They drew up outside the apartment, "Are you putting the car away?" he asked

"No," she explained, "I want some time to myself, I will sleep at my own place."

He waved goodbye as she drove off.

He made his way to bed.

A clock struck Four A.M. He sat frustrated and concerned, he needed Jen here, in the apartment, taking his cock, he looked across at the big house, where an army of nurses ate the companies profits as they nursed his father.

He remembered a calling card, a street girl, a call girl, anytime she had said, call anytime, he dialled, "Its four fucking twenty what do you want," she replied.

"Hi its Jack one thirty two Greebe " he identified himself.

"House call is a hundred dollars and I can be with you in twenty minutes." she suggested.

"Make it ten," he ordered.

She arrived in ten, her tracksuit soaked with sweat despite the cool night air, she was no beauty, her wide snub nose fat lips, her huge tits sagging and heaving, her fat hips, but she was willing, willing to turn out in the middle of the night for him.

He sat by the door in his bath robe and as soon as she entered the hallway he was undressing her, the tracksuit spilled down round her ankles and his condom clad member speared easily within her voluminous cunt, her ebony skin gleamed and his pink Penis in its clear condom made a strange contrast as it pistoned in and out.

"What your name again," he asked.

"What ever you want it to be lover," she replied.

"Stay till morning?" he requested.

"I want breakfast," she countered.

"Of course, waffles?" he offered.

"Lovely" she agreed.

He stiffened again

"Anal is extra." she reminded him.

He reflected, Anal was not on the agenda with Jen, foreplay; one fuck, vaginal, position optional, then sleep, those were Jen's unwritten terms, yet here with a cheap street whore everything was available.

He woke around eight thirty and rang Jen, he got her answer machine, perhaps she had gone to training.

"Girl trouble huh," He turned as he heard the voice behind him,

"Come back to bed and forget her" she offered.

"I got Waffles," he offered.

"Later" she took his hand and led him away, he gazed at her sagging breasts, dirty short black hair, and her sopping wet cunt.

"How much extra is this" he asked.

"On the House, I guess you will be needing me real often from here on in"

He drove her home, to a street corner on the way to Church

Training.

Jen drove herself to Phil's place, the dirt road running up the side of the valley away from the highway and over the high ridge before plunging down to the ranch, the fields cut from the surrounding forests and the barns blended into the dramatic foothills while to the north the snow capped high mountains brooded.

Jen parked the Corvette in the Barn and walked over to the office, Phil was waiting, "Coffee?" Phil asked.

"No thanks," Jen replied.

"That was a wonderful performance on Saturday," Phil declared, "You nearly lost out when you missed a marker, and your posture was not quite perfect but hey, well done"

"I had to rest Sunday," Jen explained.

"I know," Phil explained, "We will just have a little try out round the Jumps this evening, in training tack I think, then we can have a chat"

She ushered Jen into the dressing room, Jen undressed, hanging her business suit neatly on a hanger then her blouse and underwear, finally sitting naked while Phil helped her on with the oh so tight fitting knee length boots, the Iconic Pony-girl footwear, shaped and braced for the weight to be on the ball of the foot where the moulded sole left the horse shoe imprint, the shape of a high heel yet no heel which so many found impossible to master, walk in even without jumping or running.

The broad leather belt around her waist came next then the harness under and over the base of her breasts fastened behind, then the wrists held in leather cuffs and her elbows and the problem, which should ideally touch yet hers were five inches apart at best, then the bridle, over the head with a ring at the back through which Phil expertly pulled Jens Hair making the pony tail.

The Tack had evolved, to suit the needs of professional top flight ponygirls but with aesthetics paramount, so the hands behind the back, elbows together covered by a leather sleeve, to which a tail is attached for competition, the breasts and crotch left bare to avoid chafing, and the bridle coming down between the eyes to the bit, a rubber bit between the teeth for amateurs but the metal bit behind the teeth for professionals, normally the rearmost lower teeth needed to be removed for this.

Girls needed to feel confident in the tack so Phil always insisted Girls Tack up for training, and ignored anyone casually watching, although this far off the highway strangers were unlikely.

Phil led her round the ring, dressage was always the same but the Jumps differed, not very high but the crowd did love a mishap sending a girl plunging into the sand tits first,

"You need to do a half stride out of four so you are right for five other wise fine, try it again, a half out of four then a half out of five to get back ready for six and that should be it." Phil explained, "Good Pony"

Jen looked at Phil, she usually said "Good Girl"

Jen looked forward to a shower and a diet coke then the drive home to snuggle up to Jack.

They made their way to the tack room, usually Phil slackened her bridle and removed the bit so they could discuss the events as they threaded through the crowd, but today she seemed preoccupied.

The tack room was on the end of the main barn, itself divided into a number of cubicles, stall where the full time Pony-girls lived, mainly former hookers and dropouts. Living like animals while their bank accounts swelled so they could get a decent re start in life,

"Oriel has left," Phil pointed to a Cubicle door swinging open, the cubicle barely a metre square with a treadle operated water hose and a drain in the floor, where Pony-girls spent the hours of darkness, harnessed to the overhead beams so they had to sleep standing to toughen up the ankle muscles. Phil guided her to the cubicle, "See."

Jen stared in disbelief at the nameplate on the door, "Newboldstud Jen," she mouthed as she read it.

"See you have been accepted for full time training, well done." Phil praised her.

Jen struggled and kicked, she needed to escape she had not agreed to this, a whip lashed suddenly she felt the sting on her buttocks and stood still in shock.

"Good Pony, do you want supper?" Jen asked, "One stamp for no two for yes."

Jen nodded.

"I will try you with a high collar so no nodding and shaking all right?" Phil warned.

Jen nodded.

"Come along then we will see about food," Phil announced and she led Jen to the medical room and sat her on a bench.

Mr Abrams the Vet stood by, Jen panicked but was helpless as Phil inserted a Jaw spreader and cranked her mouth wide open, Phil took out the rubber bit and Abrams quickly yanked out her two rearmost lower teeth, she screamed with the pain.

"Poor cry baby Pony," Phil chided her as they slipped the silver plated brass professional bit behind her teeth and secured the bridle, Jen felt it clamping her tongue, as she tried to shout out.

"That can stay in all the time, you will soon learn to eat and drink with it," Phil assured her.

The pain was intense but then she felt something pulling her elbows. a ratchet clicked as the force and pain became intolerable, the crackling, squelching and crunching of joints breaking or dislocating in the pursuit of beauty, finally as her elbows touched she passed out.

She woke, swinging form the harness in her stall. she spotted the drink hose and operated the treadle giving herself a drink, it tasted strange, peppermint, perhaps?

A strange man was there, behind her, "Breakfast" he announced as he released her from the harness and set a bucket down before her, re-fastening the harness to a hook on the wall, she knelt thrusting her head in the bucket, the whip cracked, "Bend not Kneel"

She tried but it was awkward, At least the food was edible, she thought, like Muesli with lumps of apple, and carrot. Her Arms and teeth ached.

Phil led her out, she thought about a swift kick but Phil swished the whip and she thought again.

A man waited by the door, nondescript in a plastic suit he held a spray gun and sprayed her all over as Phil made her halt.

"Sunblock antiseptic and insect repellant, smells awful but you get used to it." he explained.

Phil took Jen to the Jumps, something was wrong, her rhythm,

"You are breathing better Jen, taking longer strides, leave out the half steps."

She tried again.

"One Forty Two, that's three seconds faster than yesterday Jen, that's brilliant," Phil announced, and then suggested she "Have a drink"

The other professional Pony's stood round the water trough, Jen dipped down and drank, then the others in turn came up to rub their heads against hers, their breasts touching also in a sign of friendship.

"Free time Ponies, do your business then we have a nice run later" Phil shouted.

Business, Jen mused as she sat on the grass, a man with a whip approached, "Ponies don't sit" she jumped up, "rolling round in the dust is OK"

She lay on her back

"Ponies lay on their fronts," Phil announced.

She rolled with some difficulty, her weight now on her breasts felt strangely stimulating.

The run was exhausting, miles and miles of forest tracks chased by men on motorcycles and Phil n her quad bike ready to encourage slowing ponies with the whip, and by sun down the Ponies were exhausted they ate from their buckets in the dying rays of the sun, the beauty of the mountain country all around and then back to their stalls to sleep.