Description
by Gloryboy
Gloryboy’s third published story centres on the tale (or tail?) of a ponyboy. Thinking he is arriving at a rather special holiday location where he can realise his fantasy of playing pony to a number of mistresses for a while, he is more than a little startled to discover that his new position as ponyboy is for real and appears to be permanent. Worse still, after only the briefest and most painful of training he is put to work immediately, doing everything that would be expected of a young, fit horse. He soon finds out that the interests of some of the women go far beyond simply using him as a beast of burden.
Published: 10 / 2006
No. words: 10000
Style: BDSM/Bondage – Content: Moderate – Fem Dom – F/M, Bondage/BDSM Short Stories 
“Okay, enough fun and games,” Tina said. “Mom wants him ready to trot to town.”
“Well, then, let’s get him shaved, washed and ready to go,” Michelle said.
She took the leash connected to my nose ring. “Come on, smelly boy,” she teased. “Let’s go get you all nice and groomed.”
They quickly completed the job and were just hitching me to a buckboard when Beverly walked towards us from the house. As she climbed into the buckboard, Michelle came very close to me. She cupped my aching balls, leaned right up to my ear and whispered, “Think about me while you run, horsy.”
As Michelle stepped back, Beverly snapped the reins and said, “Giddyup,” and I was running on shaky legs.
It was the most agonizing run of my life. My legs were shaking, and I felt nauseous with frustration, but every time I tried to slow down, I felt the whip raise a new welt or a bleeding cut across my ass, or the reins would snap and dig the cruel bit into my swollen, tender tongue. Even so, Unlike her daughters she was not torturing me just for the sake of torturing me. It was always for a purpose. I was truly just a beast of burden to her.
I was a sorry animal by the time we reached the town and she reined me in at the pony boy stables. Beverly did not tie the reins to a hitching post as others had always done before. She merely draped them over the post. I knew this was her way of saying that I was well-trained enough that I would stand there and the reins would still be in place when she returned. She left me standing there for probably over an hour while she went into the main offices connected to the stables. When she came out she smiled, rubbed and massaged my neck. “Good boy,” she whispered, and I knew she was referring to the fact that the reins were still in place. She walked me over to a watering trough and allowed me to drink, only pulling my head up when I lost control and tried to drink too much too quickly that would have made me sick. She took some grainy food and held her hand to my mouth, permitting me to eat out of her hand. It felt like a great honor, something like a bond of trust between us. She then stroked my mane and whispered, “Just a little water now, boy,” and once more I drank slowly, stopping when she tugged up lightly on the reins. I badly wanted more, but it would have made it worse for me when I had to run again.
She rubbed my neck once more. “Oh, good boy,” she said. “My horse is a fast learner. That’s good.”
Tears ran from my eyes and I pressed my head to her shoulder. To my surprise, she allowed it and kept rubbing my neck. I realized that this, except for the crying, was normal horse behavior and even now the only affection she was showing me was that of owner to horse.
“Okay, good boy,” she whispered. “We need to get going now.”
