I was all yoked up and ready to go out in public as a pony boy for the first time, after six months of training. My legs were not only just long, but now strong, and so were my arms from balancing the choke. I was fed on slave chow, so my body was now made of lean muscle. I was trained to pull small rickshaws that seat eight passengers along, with seven other ponies. We were told every day that being a pony boy was the finest job for a slave. I'm not sure if it's actually true but being told that we were fine ponies in the making was enough to make any slave proud after time.
My neck was in a thick black leather collar that also had an electric shock device attachment. A wooden bit was tied with a head harness to the back and hooked down to the yoke behind. My arms were strapped to my yoke and various hooks and leather straps kept all eight of us in position. We stood proud in the rows of four side by side, in front of our rickshaw.
We wore the high up pony boots you now see common place that were designed to keep the pony trotting with no issues of sores.
Our bodies were chemically sprayed to rid of us of body hair, and our heads continually shaved to crop one, in order to keep pests at bay. All eight of us were no more than two inches difference in height, and our physiques were all the same. On the farm where they raise pony boys, we got matched together based on our physique. It was relatively easy given at any one time there were 5, 000 of us being raised as pony boys.
At the farm when you get matched with seven others to pull a rickshaw, you each get branded with a unique barcode that comprised of not just your identifier, but also that of the group. It was in case a pony boy ever got away, the group missing one member could be tracked back. There was also a symbol of a pony boy branded over the barcode. It was a silhouette of a horse.
The most humiliating aspect of being a pony boy was that we were never hung like horses. Quite the opposite in fact. They shrunk our cocks using chastity over time, and they were useless nubs of the standard three inches. They were sensitive and since we were never given ejaculations, sometimes a pony boy would leak and he would have to let the precum and cum dribble down his leg, straight into his boot. I hadn't stroked my cock for longer than I could remember, but I hadn't fucked anyone with my nub for at least eight months. I was constantly horny, and dripping, and so were my fellow slaves. It didn't help having a glass plug inserted in our arses. They were only ever taken out overnight for the pony boys to use the bathroom in the stables, or for cleaning, and also when a free man felt like giving a good thrashing to our branded butts.
Before being a pony boy, I had never been fucked, nowadays I beg for it. I even whine and make the noises of a horse when in my stable because I yearn for cock. At night time when all the pony boys were in their stables it was a cacophony of whining and sounds of lust. Any free man that entered the stables were entitled to fuck a slave boy. It happened often given in our stables alone we had over 3, 000 visitors a day. On average I would say we each get fucked about five nights a week, sometimes more than once. I used to hate the idea of being fucked, but now I crave it. I crave any attention that helps me cum through my useless pathetic nub.
The first few times I was fucked I hated it and struggled hard to take a cock.
The training of my hole involved being taken to a barn where a hundred pony boys would get fucked by automatic fucking machines. I'm unsure how long I was there in total. I just know that eventually I could only ever trickle out cum. That training continued for a while. I also learnt valuable lessons in pleasure because it wasn't just about being strapped down and fucked mechanically.
The stable hands also liked to experiment on pony boys, using a range of equipment to get their bodies sensitive. I was given electric nipple clamps that pulsed with every pounding of the machine. Over time it made my nipples swell, and since then, even the slightest breeze would set off a dribble of precum down my leg as I trot.
After the training of fucking pony boys get sent to a public arena in the stables complex. There we beg to be fucked with our bits out of our mouths so the free men could hear our desperation. Eventually, after wave upon wave of humiliating taunting and laughing and jeering from the Freemen, they fucked me good and hard.
