The Daily Life of a Ponygirl Slave

Author's note: This story is mainly a description of what it might be like to be a ponygirl slave, for which purposes it is set in a vague dystopian world in which ponygirl slaves are objects of use, and not selves to be cared for. There has been a conscious attempt to cover all aspects of such a life, including those that I would have been inclined to shy away from. Otherwise, the presentation is festooned with the fetish images that I, the author, find most compelling. If you are a reader who shares enough of those fetish images with me, this might be a presentation you would enjoy.

And of course all the people involved in the presentation are 18 years or older.

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She had been thoroughly trained as a pony girl slave. To her masters that meant she was just a work animal. For now she was among the elite of their work animals, servicing them and their underlings. She was allowed the privilege of pulling their individual surreys, of transporting themselves and their guests to and fro along well shaded manicured paths, with her bare feet embraced by the soft moss or grass underfoot, or welcomingly smooth impacted dirt or stone.

But some day soon she would drop in status. Still a pony slave girl, she would no longer pull surreys, she would be further trained to start pulling carts, loaded carts to and from their various destinations. And soon as the sizes of loads increased, she would be used in harness with other ponygirl slaves. Her bare feet then would be tramping along the rough dirt and pebbles of the service roads, her naked flesh now deeply tanned by unrelenting exposure to a merciless sun and thoroughly covered by the clouds of dust her hurried scurrying raised.

And then, when her status drops again, she would end up a work animal in the muddy fields, pulling plows, or pulling harvesters while harnessed with others, or many similar backbreaking labors; her bare feet everywhere exposed to treacherous random sharp rocks, her flesh streaked with grime and with caked on muck.

Until with waning abilities her status would drop yet again, and then ...

But for now she is among the elite of ponygirl slaves.

***

She was kept naked. A large bulbous plug deep in her rectum, and held in place by her sphincter muscles, was used to support the luscious tail that dangled from her behind. It was removed only to facilitate defecation, or to provide access to her anus when a driver or groom wished to use her in that way. In either case, it would be reinserted as soon as possible after the need for its removal had passed. It seemed so intimately a part of her that she was always relieved to feel it put back and to feel herself as complete again.

Her wrists were permanently cuffed together behind her back, her ankles were permanently chained together allowing a foot to only rise to the height of the knee. When harnessed to a surrey she would move forward on command by raising one foot straight up to knee height and then rotating that foot forward to the ground as far as the ankle chain permitted, always keeping that chain fully taut, then similarly rotating the other foot up until it was next to the knee of its companion leg; and then repeating this as rapidly or as leisurely as her driver required until at last commanded to stop. She had been trained at this over many hundreds of hours until it was ingrained in her.

She was thankful for her blinders, focusing her gaze only on the patch of road immediately ahead as it hurled toward her, pulled to her by her long shapely legs pounding in front of her. She was grateful for the bit in her mouth and the pull of the reins directing her how to move. The hazards approaching and the hazards surrounding her were not her concern; only the feel of the whip on her body told her of what concerned her - her driver's current intent towards her - and her supple body responded only to its urgings, light strokes telling her to trot sedately, harsh strokes telling her to gallop urgently. It was such joy to plunge forward freely like this, knowing she and her driver were moving forward as one to their mutually chosen common destination. He to where he, at the moment, decided. She, as long ago she had decided, to wherever her current driver commanded.

The bit in her mouth would feel the pull of the reins, telling her to veer left or right. The chains (that when she stood still would dangle from her pierced nipples and pussy lips) were also used as additional reins pulling on her breasts and cunt to convey more subtle messages. Similarly the whip, by the intensity and frequency of its strokes, by the choices of where its blows landed - ass, thighs, sides, back, shoulders, arms - conveyed her driver's wishes. All of this had been ingrained in her long ago through her relentless training regimens.

In fact this language of reins, chains, and whips was now the primary language she knew. Her thoughts and dreams were mainly brought to her through its expressive power. Her original language of English was a vague distant haze of memories. She never used it; how could she? She always had a bit in her mouth; she felt uncomfortably incomplete without her bit and was thankfully it was only removed when she fed or slept or gave sexual service with mouth tongue and throat. And when her driver, passenger, or groom spoke to her with sounds from that nearly forgotten English language, it nowadays automatically was conveyed to her through images of her new primary language: 'Good girl' conveyed the image of a gentle stroking of her flesh, either by hand or deftly used whip; 'Bad girl' conveyed the image of a whip thundering across her flesh.

Her old life was now almost totally forgotten. It would come to her sometime during slumber. Chained on her knees rigidly in place in a stall, strange images of herself somehow partaking as an equal in the world of her drivers would flicker across her dreams; images of her somehow enjoying the pleasures that only drivers can know would haunt her sleep. Scary nightmare images that would leave her shaken on awakening.

While chained in a stall, her drivers and grooms would sometimes use her, either when she was just waking or just before she slept. Bending over, she would receive a part of them, either deep in her ass or pussy, or deep in her throat. She somehow knew what to do at those times, although the images of her primary language would become confused and jumbled, and often mix with recalled images from her nightmares. Usually only one groom or driver was involved, at least just one at a time; but sometimes it would involve two, one in front, one in back. And often the wielding of an incomprehensible mixture of whips, chains, and reins would erupt when she was being used; strange sensations would dance across breasts and ass, nipples and cunt, across wide expanses of her flesh; intense combinations of pleasure and pain would be inflicted on her as if her current driver or drivers were directing her in a frenzy towards she-knew-not-where.

In addition to this capricious way of addressing her buried sexual needs, her other bodily needs were dealt with rather perfunctorily. From the moment of being chained in her stall at night till awakening and then throughout the day and into the evening, she had been trained to naturally hold in any excrements her body produced. At night, just before being chained in her stall, she and her ponygirl slave sisters, with their ponytail butt plugs removed, would be taken to a designated spot to relieve themselves. Then, as they were trained to do, they would clean each other thoroughly. Kneeling there, bent over, she would probe deeply with her tongue into the anus pressed tightly on her mouth, carefully cleaning it of any remaining lingering feces, the tastes and smells a now familiar accompaniment to this nightly ablution. And either before or after this, or perhaps at the same time, she would feel for a while a wet sticky presence moving around where her tail ought to be.

Each night, after being chained in place in her stall, her groom would roughly scrub around in her vagina and mouth, in case someone, perhaps himself, wanted to use her between now and her morning grooming. After wakening, and after any morning uses of her now well cleansed openings, she would be fed and then groomed. Still chained in her stall, rough brushes would roam her flesh, scouring her breasts and shoulders; her face and neck, arms and legs; her fettered hands; her feet, soles, and heels; her back and buttocks and stomach. Her hair, both her own and her tail's, would be smoothed, washed and combed, and tied into twin ponytails. She enjoyed the rough feel of the brushes on her, but looked forward most to near the end of this process, when she would be freed to rise and cooperate in her grooming, until finally she proudly stood gleaming and was ready for her day's outings. During the times of the day when she was not harnessed to a surrey, she would patiently stand still, held in place and bending over as dictated by how and where the reins to her bridle were tied off.

Meals were spare; one feeding of slops in the morning from a bucket with her still chained in place on her knees in her stall. She was thus kept always hungry.

She could drink only when her current driver or groom thought of addressing her need. She would endure long stretches of intense thirst, and sometimes, when being cared for by an indifferent groom, had to sleep through the night racked with the yearning of parched lips. At such times she was especially grateful if she was used in front before being delivered towards sleep, and received the blessed mercy of moist ejaculate in mouth and throat; although often enough, for reasons incomprehensible to her, that blessing would be denied at the very last moment only to be disposed of on her face and hair. She could usually anticipate that disappointment, for it would invariably be preceded and accompanied by an intense period of the whip shouting 'Bad girl' over her flesh.

And during those infrequent times when her aridity was attended to, her groom or driver invariably would stop her well short of truly slaking her thirst. Pondering over such things with her image language, she now mused: my drivers and grooms make up my whole world; my only desires are to follow their commands and fully please them; of course they cared for me, didn't they?

***

Buried deeply within her subconscious, a nightmare memory from long ago whispers:

'Of course I love you. I care for you deeply. I only want you to be fully and completely mine.'

Her love flowed out to him. It was all that mattered. She yearned so intensely to be exactly what he wanted of her, to be fully and completely his. To turn over to him her current pampered rich life with all its meaningless trappings, to turn over her youth and beauty, her body and mind, her heart and soul, to turn it all over to him and bask forever in a life lived surrounded by his loving care for her, for her made over into the image of his most intense desire.

'I so want you to be mine, fully mine the way I need and want you to be; as my slave, as my ponygirl slave.'

'Compared to what is being offered me' she felt in her heart, 'what do I have to lose?'