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Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
There are seven stories in this series, which takes a young lady named Sally from her first attempts to scratch an itch she isn't able to ignore to becoming a full time career ponygirl, subject to the desires of her legal owner.
1. Trainee Ponygirl
2. Stable Discipline
3. Weekend Ponygirl
4. Show Ponygirl
5. Resident Ponygirl
6. Indentured Ponygirl
7. Academic Ponygirl
Now on to the story...
The last few months had been, well, interesting, Sally mused as she drove from work to her stable. In those months the redhead had settled into a schedule of spending Monday and Wednesday nights in a stall at the ponygirl stable, with an additional short session on Friday to round out the week. Those nights she never saw her apartment. She went directly from work to the training stables, and then directly from the stable to work the next morning.
The big step, however, had been when she had finally had a Chastity and Control Shield installed, and selected the Excelsior Protective Agency as the protective agency that the Kinky Sex Practices Regulatory Act (KSPRA, pronounced Kiss Pray) required for every woman who wore one.
The Chastity and Control Shield, usually just called the shield, was a gently curved triangular shield that hid her sex. The top of the shield very nicely underlined her identification tatto. It was a miracle of microelectronics that used the digital network to track her whereabouts and identify her to appropriate equipment. One readout, of course, went directly to Excelsior’s computers so they would know where she was, and would also know her vital signs.
The center of the shield was a two inch diameter circular insert that could be changed for different purposes. The insert she was wearing currently was a simple shield with nothing but the access port for a computer cable for direct programming. Another insert was a dildo plug that could drive her wild, or keep her on the frustrating edge without ever giving her release. She could also wear it without any inserts, which left a neat hole that could be used for penetration by all but the most heavily endowed males.
The various inserts required an electronic key for removal. The keys weren’t particularly hard to come by, but they had to match the encoding contained in the shield. This was one of the functions that Excelsior performed for her: they held the override key for the device. As long as they held it, it was impossible for her to irrevocably give away control over the device, and hence over herself.
The bottom of the shield contained a very clever catheter. The
She was also less than happy with the shield’s ability to control her behavior. It took about a month for it to grow the special nerve extension into her brain that allowed it to control her, but after that its control could be pretty near absolute.
That was, in fact, the major reason she had delayed having one installed. The devices had been getting more and more common since the Plague Decades and the advent of Scatterbrain plague, and the notion that a real woman needed a certain degree of outside control to complete her life had been gaining ground just as steadily. Her generation, she suspected, would be the last where a substantial fraction of women didn’t wear the device. Today it was becoming expected that girls would have one installed before their sixteenth birthday.
Her boyfriend had, of course, wanted to explore the control aspects of the shield. He’d been rather angry that she hadn’t given him complete owner rights, but had eventually subsided when she agreed to several routines “to see how it worked.” Like most males, he really didn’t have much in mind beyond having a beer delivered at the push of a button, sex on demand, and the ability to shut her up when he didn’t want to talk.
Mostly though, the shield simply didn’t matter very much. The fact she wore one did make a few changes. Businesses either didn’t care, or used the shield as an additional verification when she bought something on credit. The personnel department where she worked noticed and installed a module that enforced the restrictions in the personnel manual. She had to accept that one, or she would have been barred from the premises.
And, of course, there was the routine the stable had installed in the shield. Like all territorial modules, it was only active when she was on the premises.
She cut her reflections short as she drove down the almost vacant street past the unused and abandoned factories and warehouses, finally turning into the installation that she had first seen less than a year ago.
She parked in her assigned slot in the covered lot and walked to the entrance, garment bag over her shoulder. She waved at the guard and walked up to the returning ponygirl’s turnstyle. The equipment read her shield and turned the light green. She walked through the turnstyle almost without breaking stride and headed down the corridor to the changing room, barely aware that the stable’s computer was making sure that she went there and nowhere else.
That, at least, seemed to be the same as always. She went to her locker and efficiently stripped, placing her clothes in the laundry bag marked ‘Flying Hooves’ that they had provided. The laundry bag was a new touch. They didn’t do her laundry for overnighters; it seemed that they did for weekenders, though, which mystified her a bit.
Then she took her acounterments from the locker: her tail and all four hooves. The control collar was, as she expected, missing. They had used the collar to block her voice up until her shield had matured; now they could turn her ability to speak on and off at will.
She snapped her tail into the socket that nestled between her ass cheeks and which looked like a natural extension of her tailbone and gave it an experimental swish, grinning at the feeling as it brushed her legs.
She’d had the socket implanted a few months after she had started, and the ability to swish it had begun to come in about a month after that. She now seemed to have several muscles that let her swish her tail and hold it up if she wanted. She’d checked in a mirror and found that they weren’t actually there, but they certainly acted like it. The non-existant muscles even reported their position!
She slid her feet into the pony boots and slid the fastener to the top, sealing it with the riveting gun. At this point, she was fully committed. While she knew perfectly well where the rivet removal tool was, the programming the stable had inserted in their section of her chastity shield made it impossible for her to lay her hands on it.
She shook her head to clear it, and then slid her left hand into its pony boot, closed it up and riveted it shut. She slid her right hand into the remaining boot and bent forward so she was on all fours. Then she walked to a gadget that they had introduced her to in her last session and held the hoof boot next to it. It slid the boot closed and neatly riveted it.
She let her conciousness shift to what she was privately calling ponygirl space. It was something she had discovered after her first few sessions, and it let her simply react to whatever happened without having to think about it. Simply reacting seemed to be what her trainers wanted, and that had saved her from any number of strokes of the whip.
Flying Hooves shook her head slightly to clear it, red curls bouncing, and then trotted on all fours down the main stable corridor to the proper row of stalls, and then to her stall. The stall door opened in front of her and she walked inside, listening to it close and latch behind her.
Her stall, she noticed, hadn’t changed since she had left Thursday morning after the second overnighter of the week. She hadn’t expected it to. It was still about three feet wide and five deep, with four and a half foot high walls and an alcove on the end which contained her food dish ane water bowl. Right now, though, what interested her was the porcelain appliance in the front corner not occupied by the door. She squatted over it until it slid between her ass cheeks and then relieved herself. Then she attacked what she privately though of as ponygirl mush. It was a very stiff porridge that had pieces of fruit, vegitables and meat buried in it. They changed the taste regularly; at least, she couldn’t remember having the same taste two sessions in a row, although she hadn’t really been
She stood for a moment and looked down the row of stalls. Today, she noted, there were ponygirls standing in three of the stalls. This was the first time she had seen any in this part of the stable.
It wouldn’t have been that surprising if she’d still been able to think. The reason was quite simple: they hadn’t wanted to let her do an overnighter starting on Friday because they were reserving that night for the start of the weekend. It looked
She dropped back to all four hooves. It wasn’t like there was all that much to see by looking over the top
A few minutes later, a groom walked down the corridor and looked into her stall. He found her lying on her side on the straw, front and hind legs drawn up slightly so that her hooves didn’t dig into the side of the stall. “Time to get to work,” he said into the stall. She rolled over onto her hooves and looked at what he held. She got to her feet and held her front legs out to the sides so he could put the corset on her without interferance.
He slid the corset around her waist, letting it settle above the curve of her hips and the tops of her ass cheeks. He ran the lacing machine up the back, pulling her waist in a bit. Then he ran it up a second time, tightening it further and taking another two inches off of her waist in the process. He repeated it once more, giving her a somewhat exagerated hourglass figure, and not incidentally insuring that the corset would not shift, regardless of the pressure applied.
“Down girl,” he commanded. She dropped to all four hooves, and he wrapped the shoulder harness around her shoulders and tightened it to her waistband. Next he took the headstall off the wall and slid it around her head, tightening the straps. He held up her bit, and she grimmaced and then opened her mouth to allow him to insert it and fasten it to the headstall, completing the bridle. He added a pair of blinders, eliciting a slightly distressed whinny. He scratched her behind one ear and under her jaw. He knew very well that she didn’t like blinders, but today’s instructions were that she was to wear them.
He took a small ring from the wall and tilted her head back until he could see to slide it into the hole in her septum. Then he crimped it closed. He did the same with the two holes that had been drilled through her breasts just below the aurole. They were held open by surgical plastic.
He then hung little golden bells from her ears and her breast rings. He looped her reins over a fastening on her waistband so they wouldn’t foul her hooves, and swatted her ass lighty. “Go!” he commanded.
The ponygirl whinnied in startlement, but turned at the unfelt but no less compelling prompt of the stable’s central computer relayed through her control shield, and walked down several paths she had never been on before to an area where there were rows of one and two person chariots lined up. A groom hitched her to one of them, looping her reins over a post at the front of the chariot, and gave her a light swat. “Trot!” he commanded.
She whinnied again, but trotted down another path, obedient to the unfelt promptings of the control computer as translated by the shield.
Then she almost lost it! A huge number of unfamiliar sights and sounds assailed her senses. She’d wound up in the adult amusement park. However, she kept trotting until she arrived at a booth where the sign said: “Ponygirl Rides! 15 minutes for five tickets!” She added herself to the line of harnessed ponygirls waiting for riders.
She spent the next few hours walking and trotting around the bridle paths, being driven by a number of patrons. They were managing to get a new patron off every half minute or so, which barely gave the ponygirls a chance to catch their breath and cool down between rides. Every hour or so they took her out of the lineup to a private area behind the scenes where she was given a chance to relieve herself, and then eat and drink a bit. They let her rest for a few minutes before putting her back into the queue.
Not that she spent that much time waiting. There was a fairly long queue of
Finally, the queue of people ended, and the unseen taskmaster between her thighs directed her to the chariot storage area, where a groom unhitched her, and then it directed her to the grooming area. Another groom gave her a swift wash and then led her back to her stall, where she relieved herself, drank a bit of water, took a few bites of the ponygirl mush and then fell over, fast asleep.
The next morning they took her out and harnessed her to a small cart. They were cleaning the amusement park, and she was assigned to general haulage. She spent the next three hours on all four hooves pulling her cart around the park, responding to the unfelt stimulus of the computer. It was probably fortunate that she wasn’t capable of wondering what was going on, or she would have been completely confused. The park’s
Cleanup took around three hours, leaving the park pristine and sparkling for the influx of patrons when it opened. Before that happened, they took her back, groomed her and hitched her to a chariot, and she was back at the ponygirl ride attraction.
They gave her longer breaks, but by the end of the day she was totally slagged out and ready to drop. She fell over in sleep as soon as she got back to her stall, not even taking the time to relieve herself or grab a bite to eat.
Sunday was the same thing. The crowd thinned out earlier on Sunday night, so they sent her back to her stall in time to have enough sleep to be awake and have eaten her fill on Monday morning. They gave her a quick exercise session, and then sent her to the changing room. A groom stationed by the door swiftly snipped off the four rivets on her pony boots and removed the front hoof boots. Then he sent her toward her locker with a light swat on the ass. She swished her tail at him as she vanished down the aisle.
“So, how did you like your first weekend?” Mira asked. She sat next to Sally as the redhead carefully applied her makeup.
“I’m not sure?” Sally answered her. “I certainly seem to have survived, but I haven’t really had the time to sort through it. Being put to work in the amusement park was the last thing I expected!”
Mira laughed. “That’s a common reaction; a lot of our trainees don’t realize we’re right next to the park, especially since you have to come in from a different direction.
Sally thought a moment. “What you did with my voice was weird, and being moved around like a chess piece on a board was, well, interesting.”
“We do both of those through the chastity shield. That’s why we quit using the control collar on you. Once you had your chastity shield installed, we could use that and it’s a lot more efficient.”
“It’s just that it’s so, well, controlling, like I don’t have any part in it.”
“Well, neither does a horse,” Mira told her. “I suspect that what’s getting to you is that there wasn’t anyone pulling at your reins and giving you commands that you could feel and hear. Computer control does take some getting used to.”
“I’ll say,” Sally said feelingly. “So, what’s next?”
“If you keep doing weekends, you can expect to do the amusement park quite a bit. There are other things our ’girls do on the weekends, of course, and you’ll probably do most of them. Now that you’ve done your first weekend, we may use you for special parties when you’re doing an overnighter.”
“What’s that involve?”
“They rent out the park for parties on weeknights. A lot of them involve quite a bit of sex.”
“You know,” Sally said as she concentrated on outlining an eyelid, “that’s what I missed. The grooms have been taking care of me, and they didn’t this time. I think I was expecting to get laid half a dozen times, and it didn’t happen!”
“I think we can fix that,” Mira told her. “The ponygirl ride is supposed to be pretty vanilla, but there’s nothing that says you can’t get yourself well screwed during cleanup or during breaks. We’ll just clip the key to your chastity shield to one of your breast rings, and you’ll be used so much they’ll have to empty you out!”
“Sounds like fun! I’m back here tonight for an overnighter?”
“If you want it.”
“Oh, I want it. It’s just that sandwiching a work session between two sessions here is a bit strange, but there doesn’t seem to be any way of avoiding it if I want two overnighters and a weekend.”
“That’s the way it works. If you keep
“You make it sound like keeping an apartment won’t be worth it?”
“You’re not ready for that,” Mira told her seriously. “You need to let this settle in for a while before you become a resident ponygirl.”
“I give up my job?”
“Not that. Resident simply means you live here as a ponygirl. It doesn’t mean you give up your day job, and it definitely doesn’t mean you spend all of your time as a ponygirl. Kiss Pray doesn’t allow it even if you wanted to. Besides which, there’s something else you’ve got to do before we’ll allow you to move in as a resident.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve got to learn how to use the link with your shield.”
“I already know how.”
“Then you’ll just need to take a quick exam. It’s like this. Our resident ponygirls chatter to each other, play games and do other stuff on the net, all while standing on their four hooves in their stalls. They also go shopping, see shows and do other things on their free time. What they don’t do is anything on premises that requires hands or a voice.”
“You’re right, I need to let it digest for a while.” She finished inspecting her face and snapped the lid shut on her makeup kit. “See ya.”
Mira watched her walk to the door, brick red curls bouncing and hips gently swaying. “Slowly, slowly,” she reminded herself. “You don’t want to scare this one off.” The central computer noticed Sally leave, and opened a stall door so the next ponygirl on her debriefing schedule could trot into the changing room.
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