Brenda's Parade

This is the latest story in the life of Brenda, who was abducted and is being forced into the hard life of a ponygirl. It is about degradation and abuse, and is nothing at all like my usual stories of fun sex among happy men and women.

Brenda woke up lying on her left side on the mattress in the training room that had been her home for several months; she had lost track of how long exactly. The brand on her right buttock had almost healed, and was no longer painful, unless she bumped it against something or she was struck there with a whip. The old man who considered himself to be her owner, Cornelius McGillicuddy III, who was also the man who had ordered her to be branded, sometimes used a mirror to show how the healing was progressing. The scar, which was in the shape of a block "M" with a small "c" intersecting the right leg, was a dark pink and stood out from her creamy skin the way it was intended to do. The old man wanted everyone to know he was the owner of the statuesque brunette.

After straddling the drain and urinating, as she did every morning, Brenda, or Raven as she was called by McGillicuddy and the brutal men who worked for him, leaned over the basin of water and took a long drink. As always, she had to purse her lips to suck up the water around the bit that was held tightly inside her mouth.

The attached bridle, the coverings on her hands and forearms that were called "hoof-gloves" and the leather collar around her neck were the only things she wore. Her glossy black tail, which closely matched the long, black hair that had earned her ponygirl name was constantly in place, except for the one time every day she was given an enema and her body was cleaned inside and out. The butt plug that held the tail was otherwise always inside her ass, but Raven was used to it by then, and no longer thought about it, except for deriving a certain erotic sensation when she felt it moving inside her. Ever since her abduction, the sexy young woman had been almost naked, much to the delight of the thuggish men around her.

That day would, she knew, be a break in the routine. On the previous evening, her owner had told her there would be a parade, and that she would be a part of it. It would be the first time for her to be on display before the shadowy group of men and women who abducted attractive girls and young women and forced them to be ponygirl slaves for their own amusement. For about three weeks, as near as she could tell, her mornings had been spent pulling a sulky under the cruel command of the man who reminded her more of Hitler every time she saw him. He was less free with his whip than he had been the first day but, by no means, did he spare her. Brenda's ass and thighs were criss-crossed in red from the many lashes she had received, and they were still painful.

Her afternoons had been spent on her hands and knees, carrying her owner around the grassy area she had learned was referred to as the parade ground. Employing what was called "the ponygirl strut" while pulling the sulky was the hardest work Brenda had ever done, even without the whipping , but being a saddle pony was also drudgery, and was even more humiliating. She wore pads on her knees and her hands were encased in her hoof-gloves, so it wasn't painful, but it was tiring in the extreme.

She had gotten better with practice, and McGillicuddy told her she was getting more sure-footed with her front legs, but Raven doubted she would ever be good at it, nor did she want to be. What she wanted was to escape from her enslavement, but she didn't yet see how that could be accomplished.

After urinating and quenching her thirst, Brenda lay back down to await the entrance of her owner and his goons. When they arrived, McGillicuddy spoke to her in his usual manner, politely but letting her know his word was law in the house and grounds he owned especially for the ponygirls he also claimed to own. Any disobedience she had displayed had always been punished by severe whippings, and the ponygirl knew enough to do as she was told.

"Raven, my dear," the old man addressed her in the affectionate way he usually did. "As I told you yesterday, we will have a parade today, and you will be part of it. I hope you don't mind, but Big Betsy will be pulling the sulky, rather than you. Mr. Krause tells me you aren't quite ready yet, and we need to build up your stamina. I hope you're not disappointed, because you will still be part of the parade, since I'll be riding you in front of everybody."

She was not even a little bit disappointed, and would much rather have been left out of the day's events entirely but, at least, it would be a change in the dull routine. The old man stepped away from her and the men with him stepped forward with her tack, and silently ordered her to stand so they could begin preparing her for her duties that day as a saddle pony.

The first thing they did was to remove her bridle and reins and bit, which was a surprise, but Raven quickly saw why. They had brought her a new one, made of shiny black leather and adorned with chrome studs, and they affixed it and the new matching reins and bit. McGillicuddy did his favorite part of preparing her, carefully pulling her mane through the spaces between the straps of the bridle so it flowed down her back in the way he doted on. When he was done, his men continued the preparations.

They had a new harness that matched the bridle, but that would not be part of her adornment that day. During her earliest training, she had worn both a harness and a saddle, but that had been for the purpose of further humiliation and to save time when they changed her training between cart pony and being her owner's steed.

The saddle she would wear that day was new too, matching the other tack, and was carefully cinched into place around Brenda's waist. The last thing they did was strap on her kneepads, and she was almost ready to kneel on the floor and be mounted by her owner. The parade would not be starting for more than an hour and, when she was to be ridden by him, her front legs would be freed from the manacles connected to the chain that hung from the ceiling so she could walk on all fours, and the old man would mount her, place his feet in the stirrups and ride in the style he preferred.

Cornelius McGillicuddy III considered Raven to be the most beautiful ponygirl in captivity, and he couldn't wait to show her off to his fellow fanciers. Some of the early comers had already started arriving, in their big automobiles or vans that also carried their stables. He returnedto the training room with one of his men and, after the manacles were released from her wrists, she got down on all fours so he could take his seat on the saddle. Following a light tap from his riding crop, she carried him out the door to the hallway and to the back door of the mansion and onto the verandah that overlooked the carefully manicured parade ground.

Raven obediently followed the tugs on her reins, and carried her rider down the ramp and to the area where the owners of the ponygirls and their employees would be accommodated. She always enjoyed the deep green of the grass of the parade ground and the adobe bricks that formed the track around it and the structure at one end. She knew that building was the stable for ponygirls, and she would be housed there soon, unless she was able to escape first. That idea was always on her mind, but she knew she would have to be obedient to avoid whipping and other punishment, at least for as long as she was a captive.

"Whoa!" her rider yelled, as he pulled on her reins to order her to stop by the chairs and table with an umbrella that was reserved for him and any guests he might invite. Wanting to keep their activities secret, the ponygirl fanciers only rarely had guests at their parades and other social events, but there were other groups in other parts of the country, and they sometimes visited the old man and others in his society.

A man and a woman approached, and Brenda recognized the man who had wanted to buy her before she was branded and his wife, who had whipped him after a fall. The man approached and, after seeing the brand, patted her ass, but did not take as many liberties as he had the previous time he had been around. His wife kept her distance.

"Hi, Mac," the man greeted him. "I see you've got Raven out for the first time. She's a beauty, and really sexy."

"Yes, she is quite attractive," his wife agreed.

"I think she will be the most beautiful ponygirl here today," her owner proudly stated. "And, once she's fully trained, she will outshine any other, here or anywhere else."

His friends may or may not have agreed, but they said nothing about it. They were the first of many who came over to see and admire the new ponygirl they had heard about, and some of the men stroked her ass or fondled her breasts, but nobody touched her pussy. The women limited themselves to stroking her mane, or refrained from touching Raven at all. Everybody commented on her youth and beauty, and there were a few suggestions of the possibility of buying her, but McGillicuddy turned down the offers, whether they were serious or not. Brenda waited on all fours and endured the fondling but neither whinnied nor neighed.

When the time arrived for the opening promenade to begin, McGillicuddy mounted Raven and, as the owner of the site where the parade was being held, rode her to the head of the line that was starting to form. The other ponygirl owners or their representatives, mounted their favorite steeds, who were all on their knees and wearing hoof-gloves, and followed him in a line, past the grandstand where employees and invitees were watching and whistling at the beautiful steeds and their owners passing in review before them.

Other men and a few women followed, riding in carriages being pulled by a pair or in sulkies being pulled by a single ponygirl. Raven led the entire group, circling the track twice before being brought to a halt at the place where they had begun the march. Other owners riding on their saddle ponies and the rest of their stables stopped in the areas that had been designated for them.

This was the first time Brenda had seen any other ponygirls, although she knew of their existence. She wondered about Big Betsy, who was pulling the sulky she had trained on, and looked over her fellow captive. The other woman was older and also a brunette, but not very much bigger than Raven, although she looked stronger. Her legs were pillars of corded muscle, but she did not look to be in very good condition in general. Betsy's large breasts were droopy, and her whole body seemed tired and worn out. Brenda wondered whether that would be her own appearance in a few years. She hoped not, and resolved even more to make her escape when the chance arose.

The other two ponygirls who shared her stable were slightly smaller than she or Betsy, and were harnessed to a larger carriage. Both had long blonde hair and were a similar size, apparently chosen for their assignments for that reason. It seemed logical, to the degree anything there was logical, that their owner would want a matched pair to pull the carriage.

All three of Raven's stablemates were naked except for being outfitted in tack similar to hers, although they wore shiny black harnesses decorated with chrome fastenings instead of a saddle. The other members all wore hoof-boots besides their hoof-gloves, and had their wrists manacled to the lower belts of their harnesses. Each member of the stable had been branded on her right buttock as Brenda had. She surmised they had all been abducted as she had, although she couldn't identify any of them. The bridles and bits they wore obscured their facial features too much for her to recognize anybody or connect them to any news accounts of missing girls or young women she might have read in a newspaper or seen on a televised news program.

After the opening promenade, the next event was a series of sulky races. Each stable of ponygirls had one entry, and they raced in heats, with each heat matching two teams. The first two ponygirls both ran like the wind, pulling their sulkies twice around the track. It was obvious to Brenda that one reason for sprinting like that was because the drivers used their carriage whips almost as much as Krause, whom she still thought of as Hitler, had done during her training sessions. One of the teams won, to a smattering of polite applause.

Big Bertha was in the next heat, and it was immediately obvious she was not up to the demands being put on her. She started slowly and fell even farther behind, despite the lashes from Krause's whip. She finished the race far behind and, when she finally stumbled, exhausted, into the area where the rest of McGillicuddy's employees and the members of his stable waited, she was crying from pain and fatigue.

The sulky driver didn't care about how she felt. When they reached that area, Krause angrily jumped out of the conveyance and strode up to his boss, who was disappointed but not surprised by the result. He was still mounted on Raven, because he preferred sitting on the sexy ponygirl's back to sitting on a chair, so she heard the entire discussion between the two men.

"Mr. Mack, you've got to get rid of Bertha. She's all washed up. It was really embarrassing to me and to you to lose as badly as I just did, but there was nothing I could do about it. She's old and slow and worn out, and Raven will have to take her place."

"I suppose you're right. I really like her as a saddle pony, but my men have their eyes on a new girl, and I can sell Big Bertha and turn Raven over to you. Do you think she's ready to pull the sulky yet? You said she needed more conditioning."

"She'll be ready by the next parade, if you'll let me have my way with her." Krause looked at Brenda then, as if just noticing her.

"If you say so. After the final promenade, I'll move Raven to the stable. The new pony, if we succeed in catching her, can be moved into the training room. It's time for Raven to be in her new quarters anyhow."

He smiled at the ponygirl under him and patted her on her shapely hip, as if he were doing her a favor. "Did you hear that, My Dear? Starting tomorrow, you'll be a fulltime sulky pony. Isn't that exciting! But I hope I still get to ride you some of the time."

Brenda had heard everything that was said, and the change demanded by Krause was frightening, rather than exciting. She had seen how exhausted Big Bertha was, from the race she had just lost, and from many others she had apparently run, and how she had been savaged by Hitler. Brenda had no wish to go through the same experiences, nor would she ever wish them on anybody. All she wanted to do was escape the horrible place she was held prisoner, and report it to the legal authorities if that was possible. Until she could do that, however, she would be Raven, the docile saddle pony, soon to be a sulky pony and part time mount for her owner.

There were two more races in the first round and, when they were finished, two of the four semi-finalists prepared for the next matchup. The audience was taking a greater interest, and they cheered loudly as they watched the winning ponygirl and driver from the first race outrun the team that had easily beaten Krause and Big Bertha. The next race generated just as much enthusiasm, and Brenda realized the people watching were betting on the results. The ponygirl winning the final race, a large Hispanic looking woman who had been the winner in the first race of the day, was bedecked with flowers and paraded in front of the cheering spectators, strutting the way Raven realized she would have to master over the next few weeks.

The final event of the parade, Brenda discovered, would be a judging of the pairs pulling the larger carriages that would be occupied by their owners. McGillicuddy dismounted from Raven and was assisted aboard his carriage, which was still hitched to the team of matching ponygirls. The driver was not Krause, but the handsome henchman who had tricked Brenda. He snapped his whip across the creamy-white asses of the pair of young blondes, and the team strutted smartly away, with other carriages following. Sometimes the teams pulling them, always using the ponygirl strut and moving in unison, had the same color hair, but no team matched one another in appearance as closely as those who were pulling the carriage containing Raven's owner.

Apparently, style was more important than speed. The carriages made a single circuit of the track and stopped where they had started. The judges, carrying their clipboards, approached from the infield and closely inspected the teams that had done the pulling. As Brenda and everyone else watched, they took liberties with the ponygirls far greater than any that had been taken with Raven or that she had seen before. The men and woman doing the judging, one team at a time, stroked manes and fondled breasts and asses with their hands and even felt the pussies of those they were inspecting.

The teams of ponygirls being subjected to their scrutiny stood still at rigid attention, seeming to never flinch or even move a muscle despite what was being done to them. Brenda believed she would not have had the discipline to control herself under such conditions, but all those being inspected did so.

Partly making up for the loss by Big Bertha, the blonde ponygirl team of the McGillicuddy stable, who were announced as "The Angels," won first prize in the judging, and their owner returned, smiling broadly and clutching the blue ribbon. He mounted Raven again and, a few minutes later, led all participants in the parade on a final promenade around the track.

When the last circuit was complete, he directed his favorite mount back to the training room, where his henchmen once again cuffed her to the chain hanging from the ceiling. She wondered how long she would stay there before being transferred to the stable to make room for the new saddle pony who would be replacing her. She also wondered if McGillicuddy's gang of misogynistic thugs would be able to take their intended victim a prisoner and bring her back to the mansion.

She hoped not, partly because she hated the thought of having to pull Hitler in the sulky in future races and the abuse and exhaustion that would entail. Mostly, though, she hated the thought of some other beautiful young woman being abducted and put through the abuse and humiliation she had witnessed and endured.

Brenda had long ago given up on trying to keep any track of time, because it was impossible to do, and her days were so much alike it was pointless. After what was probably a little over an hour, McGillicuddy and two of his goons entered. The old man greeted her, but the others were their usual silent selves as they removed her hoof-gloves and saddle, manacled her wrists to the ceiling again and steered her to the basin where her hygienic needs were met. They removed her tail and gave her an enema and, when that was done working, washed her inside and out. They did not insert her tail back into her ass, but that was the only departure from the usual procedure. When the washing was done and they returned her from the basin, naked except for her collar and leash, she noticed her mattress was gone.

"Raven, My Dear," McGillicuddy said to her. "We're going to take you out to the stable, and that will be your home indefinitely, and we'll feed you there today. I expect to ride you sometimes too, at least for the next few days but, starting tomorrow morning, you will be training almost full time as a sulky pony. Won't that be exciting!"

Her shiny new bridle and bit had been removed, so Brenda could have given him an answer orally, and it would have been in the negative. However, she thought better of it, and just whinnied noncommittally. For as long as she had to, she would have to continue being the docile and obedient Raven.