by John Savage
In any era, having land and money grants privileges. Here, in a hidden oasis, the rich play their games, and they are not the games the common folk play. If you are rich enough, you may purchase young females – quite against their will, of course – and do with them as you wish. If that includes turning them into ponygirls, forcing them to race against each other like horses, and to pull their Masters around in carts, just as real horses do, then so be it.
More than the indignity of being turned into ponies, there is the bite of tight cords and the kiss of the whip upon bare flesh to constantly remind them of their status, and to encourage them to run their fastest. Terrible and painful are the punishments handed out by harsh Masters, to those who falter or fail.
Published: 09 / 2009 No. words: 39,000
“I got this idea a couple of nights ago,” Henry said as he tightened a strap. “I figured that we use horses for much more than racing. They plow fields, pull wagons and can be ridden from place to place. There.”
He had buckled the strap and was standing back to look at his invention.
Wildflower was standing there, looking rather scared. It was seven days after her punishment for losing the race, a punishment that continued for two days and left her a weaker and generally much more submissive ponygirl. This day, however, she had recovered from the worst of the punishments and had regained enough of her former personality to be afraid of what was about to happen. She was standing in front of one of the stables and being attached to a curious looking device. It was basically two large wheels with a seat attached to the axle. Two lengths of wood pole were also attached to the axle and came forward to where their ends were attached to her waist. This was done by means of a wide leather belt secured around her narrow waist and bolted to the ends of the wooden arms.
As was usual, her hands were bound behind her, wrists crossed, and she was wearing only a very short skirt made of leather. The bottom of that skirt came to less than an inch below her sex, which, in keeping with Mary’s suggestion, was completely shaved.
Henry was admiring his invention that fine, warm morning when Mary came up.
“Is this the cart you talked about?” she asked.
“Sure is. I got the idea from what they call ‘dog carts’ in Belgium. The farmers would attach a large dog to a cart and let it pull the cart, much like a horse does. Well, I attached a ponygirl to this cart and intend to let her pull me around.”
Wildflower turned an anxious face towards her owner at that announcement but said nothing.
“Of course, there is no use having a large cart,” he continued. “Too much weight. So I took the sides off. Then why use a floor on the cart when all you really need is a seat? Eventually it dawned on me that all you really need is a seat and some poles to attached to the ponygirl. So here it is.”
“Will she be able to pull your weight?”
“We shall see, won’t we?”
With that, he carefully climbed over one pole and positioned himself on the seat. Immediately his weight lifted the poles until the belt was pushing against her ribcage. He shifted his weight forward on the seat until the balance was more even. “Going to have to adjust the position of the seat,” he muttered.
“You’re missing something,” Mary said cheerfully.
“Try going someplace.”
“Hand me that whip.” When she did, he snapped the whip once to get the ponygirl’s attention, and then said, “Gitty-up!”
Fearing the whip behind her, Wildflower leaned forward and began pulling. The cart started out slowly, but it did move. Henry smiled and cracked the whip again. “Faster!”
Wildflower picked up the pace until they were moving along at a good walking clip. Then Mary called out, “Turn around!”
It was then it dawned on him that the missing element was a set of reins. “Turn left!” he commanded.
Wildflower obeyed although it took her a while to learn how to steer the cart with her waist. Her bare feet dug into the dirt with the effort to turn the cart and still continue its motion.
They completed a full turn and were headed back towards where Mary stood smiling, as Henry was busy thinking up new additions to his ponycart. “Whoa!” he commanded when they reached the starting point.
Dismounting, he left the cart and ponygirl standing while he went into the stable. A few moments later he came out with a handful of leather straps.
“There should be a metal bit to go into her mouth, just as we do on horses,” he explained to Mary. “But those I have are all too big for her mouth. Besides, they all have reins attached and the harness is made to go over a horse’s head. But I think I can rig up something that will do the same thing.”
He laid out the straps on the pole next to the ponygirl. Taking one, he bent it in half to make a loop in the center. That part he put over her head. “Open your mouth.” She obeyed, but with apprehension in her eyes. He inserted the leather strap into the open mouth and tied it behind her head, leaving the ends trailing down to almost her bound hands. Then he tied two more straps to that around her head and ran them back to the seat.
This time he started out holding both reins in his hands. For a short distance he let her go straight, but then he pulled back on the left rein. It was then he saw the fault in his system. Both reins were tied to mouth strap at the center of her head. When he pulled on either, all it did was to pull her head back. A little experimentation showed that for her to be able to tell which direction he was pulling, he had to hold his hands as wide apart as he could. And even then it did not work very well, because mostly she was feeling her head being pulled back, the normal command for a horse to slow down or halt. This was unsatisfactory.
He ordered her to a stop, and dismounted to walk her back to the starting point.
“Mary, would you please put her away in the stable,” he asked. “I have some work to do.”