Nothing But A Ponygirl

***Set against the backdrop of the Coronavirus pandemic, the ponygirl's owner is concerned she is running a temperature and so sends for a vet. However, when he finds nothing to be particularly alarmed about, is her owner giving her medicine, playing mind games, or is he taking this opportunity to impregnate her?***

The ponygirl ran over to the door excitedly. Her body jerked as she came to the end of the lead rope her owner had left her attached to overnight. She strained at it, excited to feel his hand on her head once more.

He chuckled and came closer, petting her hair. "Hey, girl." His hands continued down her body. He looked at her with slight concern. "Hmm. You're a little warmer than usual."

She continued to affectionately rub up against him. It was true that she was surprisingly warm given the general coolness of her barn, but she wasn't unduly concerned. Especially as it made sense that she could now stay warm without clothes when it had been so long since she'd worn any.

"Tongue out."

The ponygirl obediently did as he said. She half expected him to clamp her tongue and lead her outside by it, but instead he popped a thermometer beneath it.

"And close."

She closed her mouth curiously, watching as her owner moved about her stall carefully checking the heating and ventilation. It concerned her a little, after all, her owner wasn't one to worry without reason.

He took the thermometer out of her mouth and glanced at the reading. He put his hand on her forehead assessingly.

She was curious to know what her temperature had been, but there was also something appealing about the fact her owner felt no need to share it with her. There was a certain degree of rightness to the fact that she was so thoroughly nothing but a pet to him that her opinion on her own temperature just didn't matter.

"Open."

She opened her mouth again. This time her owner pushed a bit into her mouth and fastened it around her head. There was now a comfort in the familiar feeling of it. There hadn't always been.

He was the only owner she'd ever had. She'd come across him through a kinky advert which had specified that all interested ponygirls who weren't already owned would need to be presented by a third party. This had been particularly awkward to initiate, but a local Dom she'd got to know had been very encouraging and supportive of her interest in living as a ponygirl and so had agreed to bring her to the farm.

The very first thing her prospective owner had done was to put a large bit in her mouth and tether her to a nearby post. Although she was still fully clothed at the time, she had felt more exposed than she ever had in her life as they had discussed her and her suitability to this new life in intimate detail. It was the most arousing thing that had ever happened to her up to that point, so when her prospective owner had turned his attention to her physical body and started to examine her, she had cum so hard and fast that the farmer hadn't even asked if she wanted to be his ponygirl. He'd just said 'I'll take her.'

It had been a bit of a shock that there had then never come a point when her owner had let her talk. At first she had struggled with not being able to express herself as she was used to and had passionately rebelled against being treated like she was nothing but a dumb animal - after all, it was one thing to enjoy being occasionally treated like a pet, it was quite another to never be anything but a pet - yet, even as she had fought against it, deep down she had known he was right to treat her that way. Over time she had found other ways to communicate. Better ways. Ways that felt more natural. Ways that transcended the need for mere words.

She nuzzled her head up against his hand, enjoying his attention. He was her world and she could no longer think of a better way to show it than to lovingly press herself up against him.

He smiled and petted her head fondly. "I'm pleased to see you, too!"

Keeping her on the lead, he found her a body harness and buckled it tightly around her body. She moaned in arousal. She loved the feeling of being constricted. He finished off the outfit with her high and tight ballet boots.

It had taken her a long time to learn how to walk - well, tiptoe - in heels the height of her whole foot, and even then, having her feet locked into such a stretched position still wasn't easy. Yet she now embraced the feeling - after all, pushing through pain felt like succeeding for the sake of her owner in a way that nothing else did.

She looked at him expectantly, her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breathing as she excitedly waited for what her owner would do next. She loved it when he took her out and played with her.

To her confusion, instead he led her to the examination block and had her lie on her back on it. He bound her arms into place and put her legs in stirrups, seemingly oblivious to how helplessly exposed he was leaving her.

She whimpered slightly. He stroked a soothing hand over her bare chest. "Shh."

The logical part of her brain knew it shouldn't work - knew that it should take more to calm her, yet she had learnt over time to trust her owner so deeply that she couldn't help but relax at his reassuring touch. After all, he was still in control, and, fundamentally, that was all she needed to know.

He let his fingers trail around a nipple, but then, to her confusion, he picked up some noise-cancelling headphones and put them over her ears.

She saw his lips move, clearly testing them, but she could hear no sound. She shifted nervously. To not be able to speak was one thing, but to not be able to hear felt infinitely harder.

She made a noise through her bit. He rubbed her comfortingly. She could almost hear the soothing 'shh' on his lips.

Her breathing started to slow again at his petting. After all, nothing truly bad could happen when her owner was around.

He moved out of her vision and she continued to focus on her breathing as nervousness and excitement tingled through her body.

Her owner reappeared a short while later wearing gloves, an apron and a mask. Her breath caught in her throat.

She tried to speak again, terrified as to what this meant, but her owner made a calming gesture with his hands.

A second person entered. He, too, was wearing long gloves, an apron and a mask, but he was carrying a bag. Was he a vet?

She looked to her owner for reassurance, centering herself on him as the stranger approached.

The stranger re-checked her temperature, and the ponygirl could see her owner visibly relax as they discussed it, nodding to each other as they communicated unheard.

With their masks on she couldn't even attempt to lipread. Despite the fact that it seemed like her owner had received good news, she started to freak out a little. Was she really sick? Why were they dressed up so scarily? And why had her owner looked so worried earlier? He had never looked that worried before.

There had been a day when her owner had put her through her paces in a similar outfit to the harness and shoes she was wearing now. It had hurt and she'd tried to tell him, but it was only when he'd removed it that he'd found the chaffing. He had carefully tended to her with cream and had said he'd wait until her blisters healed before she wore shoes or a harness again. But he hadn't been worried. If anything, he had really quite enjoyed having her struggle through that bit more pain for him. But today, today he had been worried.

Her breathing started to speed up and she felt her chest getting tighter. She looked over at her owner in panic, but he didn't seem to be paying any attention to her. Her breathing sped up further. She started to feel very light-headed. Her owner was worried - why was her owner worried? And what was this obsession with her temperature?

She started to panic, thrashing around, desperate for attention. She felt a burning need to be looked after and hugged, but the vet was just looking at her like she should know better.

She looked across at her owner, pleading at him with her eyes.

Slap!

Her eyes went wide in shock. The vet had slapped her across the face!

She froze in shock. Her eyes locked on her owners, but it was clear that he had no trouble with the vet's treatment of her.

Still scared, the ponygirl started to panic more, fighting against her bonds with all her might, hoping her owner would see her struggle and take pity on her, forgetting he must have done what he had for a reason.

The vet snapped his fingers. While she couldn't hear the sound, she found herself focussing on them.

The vet kept two fingers pointing at her eyes while his other hand pinched one of her nipples.

The ponygirl moaned as pain burned through her, yet she could feel her body begin to relax to the reassuring feeling of authority. She always felt better when there was somebody so clearly in charge.

With the vet's fingers still squeezing her nipple, to her utter mortification she felt some kind of stick being pushed down her nose and twisted uncomfortably. The vet pulled the swab back out, but before she could wonder about what he might be testing her for, the vet let go of her nipple.

She lay panting, catching her breath. Her thoughts were spinning. It didn't feel right that he had been able to control and subdue her so easily - like she was nothing more than an animal. She squirmed in mortification. That's because she was nothing more than an animal. She was a ponygirl.

She pressed her chest towards the vet, hornily craving more of his painful dominance. It was like her fear was being replaced by lust, and she suddenly desperately craved more of the vet's impartial attention.

She looked back over at her owner, but again his attention was still on the vet. In fact, neither of them were acting in any way like there was a horny woman writhing in stirrups on a bench in front of them. It was more like they were in the presence of an attention-seeking animal who they were determined not to over-indulge.

With his attention still focussed on her owner, the vet put one hand on her thigh as his other started to press inside her.

He began with three fingers and she moaned at the pain of the sudden invasion of the unlubricated plastic of his gloves. However, after a couple of firm thrusts, her pussy started to juice, and, to her mortification, he was able to add a fourth finger with ease.

She could feel her moan reverberate in her throat, even though her headphones muted it from her ears.

Suddenly the ponygirl craved even more of this vet's casual dominance as he intimately investigated her body like it was the most casual thing in the world, all the while clearly still mid discussion with her owner.

She could feel a hot blush heat her cheeks. It made her think of cows. It wasn't like a milkmaid checked permission before grabbing onto a cow's udders. And what was the cow's response? To be grateful for their attention. After all, a cow couldn't relieve the fullness in its udders unaided. She moaned. She liked being objectified and treated like she had no say in what happened to her body. She liked that she was no longer in charge.

She looked back at her owner, once again grateful that he had rescued her from a life in denial about her true urges and had treated her from the start like the 24/7 ponygirl she needed to be.

She looked down and sniffled slightly. In recent weeks she had begun to feel like her owner didn't like her as much, that maybe he was going off her, as, while he used to take her along to events and proudly show her off alongside other ponygirls, it was now weeks if not months since he had taken her anywhere. There had been one time when he had mentioned it might be a little while before she got to see her ponygirl friends again, but that had been it. No explanation, no timeline, no apology. Just one fact. And now everybody was wearing masks.

She tipped her head back and moaned as the vet managed to fit his final digit into her pussy. He still barely seemed to be focussing on what he was doing as he worked his fingers in and out, but, while it was taking very little of his attention, his invasive hand was now pulling all of hers.

"Mm!" The ponygirl couldn't help but moan as the vet finally forced his whole fist inside of her sticky pussy.

She squirmed around the bench as the vet casually fist-fucked her, all the while still deep in conversation with her owner. She had never felt more like the pet she was. But, as with when she had very first met her owner, she had also never felt more wet.

The vet was now fisting her hard, forcing his hand into her tight pussy far past his wrist. Although she couldn't hear the accompanying mortifying squelch, she knew it was there.

With her legs still up in stirrups, the fist fucking felt even more obscene, yet the longer she was trapped in her unhearing world of being nothing but an animal, the more her body responded to the hot reality of her life as property.

As suddenly as he had begun, the vet withdrew his hand. The ponygirl couldn't help but whimper pitifully, straining her hips in search of his hand.

Although she couldn't see their mouths, she could tell from their eyes that they were both amused. Part of her liked that. Liked being nothing but an object of fun to them.

She squeaked. Suddenly the vet's fingers were pressing up against her anus. She began to shake her head firmly. She didn't at all like the thought of him stuffing her anus as casually as he'd stuffed her sticky pussy. Yet it was clear she had no say in the matter.

She felt the vets' fingers begin to slowly invade her, one at a time. They began still slick from her pussy, but then, as he continued, the rubber glove started to drag. She looked over at her owner, hoping he would come and add lubricant, but he seemed reluctant to come closer than the six or eight feet he was currently standing. Fortunately for her, the vet reached into his bag and squirted something cold onto his hand. The indeterminable liquid definitely seemed to ease the movement of his fingers.

Even so, as he reached four fingers she felt like she was being stretched beyond what was possible. And then he added a fifth!

The vet started to thrust his fingers in and out, clearly determined to make it all the way to a first just as he had before.

He pumped his fingers in and out, each time pressing hard to get her anus to open up to him. However, this time around he was slightly less successful and only reached four fingers, not his whole fist. Not that that left her any less stretched - by the time the vet removed his hand, she felt like she was gaping.

The vet cleaned his hands off and changed gloves. The ponygirl desperately wanted to close her legs, but the stirrups held her fast.

The vet pulled out a speculum. She felt a little grateful as she watched him smear it with lubricant, but it still felt hard to take as he ratcheted it open as casually as he might jack up a car, opening her up like she was not a living, feeling person who was being increasingly stretched and spread open with every wicked little twist.

Although the vet had warmed her pussy up with his fist, when he finally stopped twisting and left her fully spread by the speculum it felt like she was slowly being ripped apart. However, the vet didn't seem in any hurry to ease her discomfort. Instead he continued to gesture and nod to her owner while hunting in his bag for something.

The ponygirl was initially confused by the large syringe, and then she started to shake her head in horror. Surely her owner didn't plan on impregnating her in such an impersonal way?! Her eyes ran down her owner to his crotch. Why was he denying her pussy the fun of insemination? She squirmed in realisation. Because this was more fun - just a different kind of fun. A far more wickedly thwarting kind of fun.

As the vet squeezed the unknown liquid deep inside her, she could feel herself beginning to freak out. He really might be impregnating her with the syringe, and, if he was, he had every right to, after all, it was her owner who made the decisions about her body now, not her. It was as scary as it was hot.

The doctor snapped his fingers, the movement getting her attention once more. The vet squeezed her clit from both inside and out. Her pussy was still stretched wide by the speculum as he tormented her body into submission.

She thrashed and squealed but couldn't escape any of it, but the longer he pinched her, curiously, the more she calmed down, until even the feeling of a little of the liquid dribbling from her overfilled pussy down her thigh didn't cause her to freak out.

She felt the table tilt back. She blushed heavily. In her new position her splayed pussy was even more humiliatingly on display. She felt their gaze burn her cunt, even though she could no longer even see either of them.

She curled her toes. In her new position, all she could think about was the liquid that was currently working its way through her insides. She expected herself to freak out at the enormousness of it all, yet she didn't. After all, even if she was being artificially inseminated like she was nothing more than a lab rat, something about it felt too right for her to hate.

After the vet had left her upended for a little while, the table was tipped back.

She felt the vet grope her surprisingly sensitive breasts. While she was sure there was a practical reason for it, as he appreciatively fondled his gloved hands over her tits, in some ways she felt more violated than when he'd had his hand up her pussy - after all, warming up her pussy had had a purpose, playing with her tits felt like it was more just for fun. Yet the action only continued to arousingly reaffirm her place - especially with the agonisingly unbudgeable speculum still spreading her pussy wide.

With her headphones on she had forgotten that, while she couldn't hear herself, she was surely still making noises. She tried to self-consciously suppress her noises, but as the vet proceeded to investigate his hands down her body, she couldn't help but moan. Part of her felt like he was making sure she did.

The vet's touch brought her closer and closer to orgasm. But, just as she was on the brink, he stopped.

He put his hand on the speculum and pulled it out while she was still spread wide, not even bothering to close it. She squealed, yet the main thing she felt was empty - empty like she couldn't believe. And horny like her very life depended on cumming just as soon as it were humanly possible.

The vet stepped back and her owner came over to unfasten her. He pointed at a spot on the wall. She kept her eyes on it, knowing better than to look down, even as she was helped up onto something. It wasn't until she was helped back down that she realised she'd been weighed.

She looked at her owner, feeling a little shocked, but he just clipped her lead back on and led her on tottering legs back out to the field. Again, he clearly felt no obligation to explain what had just happened to her. Or, indeed, what was about to.

In her tall shoes it was very difficult to walk over the uneven ground, but somehow she made it to the little corral.

It looked kind of muddy. It had clearly rained overnight. However, with the liquid she had been injected with still dribbling down her thighs, she didn't feel wholly out of place in the messy corral.

With the headphones still over her ears, her owner didn't bother to try and explain what she was to do. He instead pushed against her back to get her to go down onto her hands and knees.

The ponygirl was reluctant to do this at first. After all, she was still largely clean and the corral was dirty, and the only way her owner would ever clean her was with a cold hose pipe in the large, exposed yard. But she also knew better than to try to go against her owner's wishes.