A Ponyboy in Pin

I awoke in the little stables at the rear of my mistresses' house, and stretched out my ponyboy body on the straw where I slept, naked and without harness. Head Girl, my owners' other human animal, lay beside me facing away from me and breathing gently. It was another glorious day in the perpetual, magical summer of the elven world, and warmth and light streamed in through the skylight. I draped one of my hand-hooves around Head Girl's waist as she blinked away the sleep.

Head Girl turned to face me and touched her hand-hooves to mine, then we kissed and whinnied to each other as the grogginess of magical slumber left us. We woke like this every day, locked in the little stables until our owners let us out, after a long and refreshing rest that the elves' magic never failed to give us. This was our time, the time when we could bond and show affection. Head Girl looked down at my hard cock, which had been magically reduced to the perfect fit for her tight pussy, and licked her lips. Still on her side, she lifted one leg up and made a licking motion, so I knew what she wanted.

She was the alpha ponygirl and I her bitch ponyboy, and I knew if I disobeyed her that my mistresses would read it in my mind and punish me terribly, while Head Girl looked on in haughty derision. As long as I acted like the beta-bitch I was, though, Head Girl seemed to love me greatly. I shuffled down and got to work on her smooth, warm pussy with my able pony tongue. My own smooth cock stayed hard, but I knew how useless my hand-hooves were when it came to pleasuring myself, so I didn't even try. Better to focus on my alpha.

Head Girl whinnied beautifully as I licked her eager cunt, making sure to give the whole thing my attention rather than just focusing on her clit. It had taken a lot of gestures and guesswork to divine how she liked me to start, but now it thrilled me that I could worship her in just the way she wanted, and she responded by starting to thrust her powerful hips into my face with every long stroke of my tongue. We lay there together, worshipper and perfect ponygirl, with our pony-tails swishing and the scent of arousal building and building in the room.

When Head Girl had had enough of the build-up, she whinnied three times in quick succession, and that was my signal to focus on her clit and let her get the orgasm she wanted. I sucked on her engorged button and took the whole thing in my mouth, while Head Girl hooked her leg around me and used its great strength to press me closer and closer to her body, so my whole mouth was filled up with her and she became all that I could breathe. Still licking and sucking, I could taste every fresh flood of wetness that pulsed from her, until she reached her climax and filled my mouth with spurts of orgasm.

I swallowed down everything I could, but her epic orgasm coated my face with wetness that got inside my nostrils and made me harder and hornier than I could bare. Still I licked and sucked, and still she pinned me to her, until her body pulsed its way through every last beat of the cum that she could wring from me, and my place as her bitch was confirmed once again. She breathed heavily and looked down at my hard cock, so much smaller than when I had been enslaved, but just right for her. A tilt of her head told me to get ready, and she rolled up onto all-fours and opened her legs to let me in.

I was sure the magic that had changed my cock had made it more sensitive, or else I was simply always so turned on by my new life that it was much the same thing. I penetrated Head Girl from behind, with a great snort that my body made all of its own volition, and I rested my hand-hooves on the ground beside her while I pumped away. Head Girl neighed bestially, and grunted with great pleasure as my cock stretched her impossibly tight pussy, which gripped my member tight and sent shivers up my spine.

My alpha wanted cock, so she would get cock. I wanted to give it to her, just like this, every morning, for as long as we both lived. I knew escape was impossible, and in the month since I'd been enslaved, I had grown to enjoy my new life greatly. Why not? It was the only rational choice I could make. I fucked away with Head Girl whinnying along beneath me, and when it swept over me, the orgasm washed away the last of the sleep from my mind, and it made me sing out with the high, sweet whinny that cumming always brought out.

I let myself down gently, kissing the nape of her neck as I went, and I moved behind her and started to clean her up. I made sure my tongue got deep inside her and I licked out every drop of my cum I could find, enjoying the fusion of salt and sweet musk that I found inside her. A blush crept into my face and burned deep as I imagined myself from the outside, a dutiful slim ponyboy licking up his own cum from the ponygirl that ruled his nights and early mornings. Light flooded in from the stable doors, and I turned to see the grinning faces of my owners, Mistress Shami and Mistress Rashida.

"Such a well-behaved little bitch boy, aren't you, Pretty in Pink?" said Mistress Shami.

I whinnied. I could find nothing dishonest in those words.

"If you're quite finished, stand up and present hand-hooves for locking," she continued.

With Head Girl's pussy well-cleaned, I stood as ordered and trotted out of the stables, knees high with every step like a good, fancy ponyboy, and then came to rest with my hand-hooves near my collar for chaining. Mistress Shami took short chains and locked them to my collar, then to a hand-hoof each, so that what used to be my hands could be displayed and kept out of the way. That done, she strapped a feedbag onto my face and waited while I used my tongue to spoon the oats and fruits into my mouth, until not a crumb or fragment was left.

"Go use the squat toilet, now, Pretty in Pink, then I've got a special treat for you. It's something really, really hot for you to wear, ponyboy."

Behind the tiny stables that took up part of the small backyard of my owners' cottage was a slit in the ground where Head Girl and I took care of our bodily needs. In view of my owners and the ponygirl I lived with, I squatted down over the slit and relaxed until my body took over and my piss flowed freely. A few pellets followed, clean and almost odourless hard things that were all my digestion now produced -- the product of some magic that had been worked on me. Head Girl watched with interest and I blushed again. My life was a series of humiliations, one after the other, which had all served to break my human pride and make me the ponyboy my owners wanted. At least using the toilet was mercifully quick.

"Good boy, Pretty in Pink, you did that without protesting -- I'm glad you're becoming the right kind of animal finally. Now, come here and I'll wash you down, then you can have your hot surprise," said Mistress Shami.

I stood as still as I could while she took sponges and hot water and soaped and washed every part of my body, from my hot-pink mane down to the soles of my leg-hooves. It was exhilarating to be cared in that way, and I nuzzled my head into hers when she brought it close to mine, which drew a contented smile and made her eyes soften. Her careful hands washed the grime from my skin, and she lingered on my cock and balls long enough to make them hard again, while she washed away the traces of my cum and Head Girl's juices.

"Such a wonderful ponyboy you've become in this past month, Pretty in Pink. You really are just such a darling little thing, and I'm so happy to tell you that we've decided to keep you on forever -- we bought you so young that you might live a full four-hundred years in our service, just like Head Girl over there. Did you know she's only a year older than you? I imagine you do -- you've looked at her pretty closely, after all, haven't you, and I know your little pecker's tasted her tight, nineteen-year-old cunt. I hope you enjoy being her beta-bitch, boy, because that's what you're always going to be.

"I told you we had a hot surprise for you, didn't I? Well, ponyboy, what is it that she has that you don't? No, not that divine bare pussy of hers, silly, I mean her brand of course. Any truly owned human-animal has to have a brand, and today's the day you get yours. It's going to say 'Pretty in Pink' in lovely flowing script, on your belly, where the gap in your harness will really show it off. And just to make sure you remember this, I've been inside your mind and made sure you can't pass out. You'll also find my magic has made you stand stock still -- you can't move an inch can you?"

I would have pissed myself if I hadn't just gone to the toilet, and I might even have tried to bolt if my mistress hadn't cast a spell of immobility on me that meant I could only stand right where I was, in the middle of the lawn at the back of the cottage, and wait for what was coming. Mistress Shami stepped into the house and then came out bearing a long rod of iron that glowed red at one end, and with Mistress Rashida and Head Girl looking on, she carefully approached me, slow step by slow step, until the brand was just inches from my pale, skinny belly.

I wondered just how much it was going to hurt. Enough that had I not had mental magics worked on me, I would undoubtedly have passed out. The spell of immobility didn't stop me from trembling as Mistress Shami waited, her hand rock steady and with the brand perfectly lined up. She really did want me to remember this, and I realised that that had been an order. I tried to commit every last detail to memory -- the way Mistress Rashida looked on, proud, the way Mistress Shami kept looking down at my erection and grinning, the way Head Girl stood in perfect display posture but kept her eyes on the brand that would make me just like her.

Pain flared into white heat and I neighed in the most animal way I ever had. The brand etched into my flesh, eating it away and charring clean, strong lines of script into my belly, carefully centred just above my navel. My rising panic hit the spell and lost, so I could still only stand still, breathing as hard as the magic would allow, while my body was stamped with a symbol of ownership and degradation that made sure everyone would know the name my owners had given me, which had replaced my human one, forever wiped away by magic.

Every time I thought the pain might decrease, it only grew stronger and stronger, and I started to cry as my mistress held the iron rod steady, making sure it would produce a good, even burn. Every second felt like an hour, and yet my cock never lost its erection and my mind flooded with images of gratitude and submission as my submissive core rose and took over. I was a slave, a ponyboy, not a person, just property, but treasured property. It was right that I should be branded, right that I should wear my name with the humiliating pride that it made me feel every time my owners spoke it with real affection. Pretty in Pink. Their darling ponyboy bitch.

The brand withdrew and I shook for minutes as my mistresses got busy harnessing Head Girl in the cherry red leather that she wore when pulling a cart or riding with an elf on her shoulders. My tears continued to flow, but the pain inched away and my composure started to return. They weren't going to sell me, I had pleased them enough to be kept, I was safe here in this life that, truth told, I had begun to enjoy now that I'd grown used to the daily humiliation. Why shouldn't I enjoy humiliation if that was what my owners thought best for me? It was their will that mattered, not mine.

"Are you ready for me to remove the spell, ponyboy?" asked Mistress Shami.

I nodded as much as the magic would allow. Control of my body returned, and I dropped to my knees and kissed her booted feet, then the feet of Mistress Rashida as well, just to show them my gratitude and to make sure I avoided punishment for any perceived lack of submission. They accepted my kisses then pulled me up to my feet and got to work strapping me into the bright pink harness that went with my name.

They started with one of the torso straps, which they pulled tight around me just below my nipples, then they did the lower strap that ran from down from my hips to just above my hairless cock. These two were connected by two vertical straps that ran down either side of my body, to give the harness greater integrity and control. From the lower horizontal strap, two more ran down beneath my crotch, then connected with the horizontal strap on my back. Similar straps were buckled over my shoulders, then the magic in the leather pulled the whole thing in tight against me, so that I felt completely owned with every movement. All the straps came together at the back, around a stout metal ring that could be connected to whatever I was to pull.

The crotch straps were designed to make my hard buttocks part, opening my well-fucked arse and making me completely defenceless against penetration. Mistress Shami took a hot-pink buttplug with a flared base, and with a little lube she pushed it inside my stretched-out hole and let the base sit snug against me. That plug would flex with me as I stepped, stimulating me to stay hard and aroused the whole day long. They wanted my 'little pecker' on full display. My mistresses added my bridle, bit and blinders, then looked to me for the next set of little decisions on my appearance.

"Accessories now! Pretty in Pink, what do you want today?"

I knew I had to humiliate myself to please them, and I did so want to please them. I pointed with my eyes at the bright pink stud earrings to get us started, and these were duly attached into my piercings. A mirror had been mounted on one of the garden walls, for just this purpose, so I could see myself and appreciate how my mistresses dressed me up. What next? I knew the bow would please them, so I pointed to that. They tied the pink ribbon round my cock and balls and finished it with a flourish. In the mirror, it made me look very sweet.

On the ground was the whole array of my pink clothes and pink accessories, all laid out for me to choose my own degradation. I motioned at the garter, and Mistress Shami pulled it up my leg and fastened it tight on my thigh, where it made me look like a blushing ponyboy bride. Next I 'asked' for the ruff to be fastened around my collar, and then for the pink bells to be added to my nipple rings, where they would jangle and pull all day long. I looked, finally, at the selection of pink knickers that were sprawled across the grass, and chose the silky crotchless thong that had breakaways to let it be slipped on under my harness then refastened.

"Oh goddess, my darling little ponyboy, you've really outdone yourself today. With your new fancy brand you're just the prettiest ponyboy I've ever seen. I can't wait to show you off to all the other owners in today's convoy," said Mistress Shami.

With Head Girl fully harnessed, and looking glorious and sexy as always as she stood with proud posture, my mistresses were ready to depart. They wore skimpy riding leathers of an alluring cut, and each carried a crop, plus a leather backpack that I assumed must be filled with supplies -- food and drink, most likely, if this was to be a long voyage. We would leave the cart behind that day and venture out just ponies and riders. Mistress Shami had me kneel on the dusty paved road outside the cottage, and she mounted onto my shoulders then tapped her feet on my chest to have me lift her. She felt feather-light to my enhanced muscles.

Mistress Rashida mounted Head Girl the same way, and led us off into the heart of the city. The hour was still early and traffic was light -- a few carts and riders on human ponies, centaurs, and even the occasional real horse, for the elf who preferred a less sentient means of transportation. In front of me on the path, Head Girl cantered along, her powerful legs eating up the distance and leaving me panting to keep up. I still had things to learn about how best to use my body, but I picked up something new every time we ran together. At least, every time I wasn't distracted by the swaying of her lovely bottom or the jiggling of her breasts.

With each running stride, the buttplug that Mistress Shami had thrust inside me pressed up against my prostate and reminded me that no violation, no use, was off-limits to my owners. It was stretching me out even more than my owners already had, which made me wonder what size strapon they might try next. They had each raped me with their strapons on mulitple mornings, afternoons and evenings, with magical vine dildos that let them cum while fucking me, and through the pain and the strangeness, each time they'd taken me, it had made me more and more their happy property.

I felt closest to my owners when they rode me like Mistress Shami rode me then. I could feel the heat of her crotch on the back of my neck, and her strong fingers on my bridle, ready to steer me in whatever direction she needed me to go in. They had taught me to carry them in one of the wide open, sun-drenched rolling fields that stretched out around the picturesque, medieval but sparkling elven city. There, they had rode me bare-back, with the juices from their pussies mingling freely with my sweat, until I could safely start, turn, stop and jump with them on my shoulders. It was so much more erotic than pulling a cart, that my heart fell a little every time I was hitched, and that thought alone was enough to earn me a few strikes of the crop on those occasions.

Mistress Shami manoeuvred my willing body through more traffic as we neared the city centre -- it seemed to my limited knowledge like we were heading for the slave-markets where I had been sold, just a short month ago. With the brand fresh on my belly and my mistress's words of permanent ownership still ringing in my ears, I felt certain neither I nor my lovely companion Head Girl were to be sold. Perhaps, then, we had some other work to do that day.

The city smelled of flowers and early morning dew, fresh and clear on the light breeze that cooled the sweat from my skin. We wound our way through the densely packed streets of the market area, until we reached a square with a great mess of prisoner wagons that awaited a pair of human ponies each to pull them. They were all pulled up outside an enormous slave-pen, one of many in the markets, whose high fences were filled with new human property to be bought and sold. The wagons were a few yards long and held eight standing cages each, in a row of two across and four along, where fresh human slaves were gradually being loaded onboard.

"Hi, Rashida! Shami! Over here!" yelled an older elf, with skin the colour of a burning sunset and pure white hair. My mistresses led us over to her and stayed mounted while she told us all where to go. "Fourth from the back, one of the cage-wagons, it's numbered fifteen and one of my slaves can help you hitch your boy and girl to it if you need help. Just flag any of them down. And, oh, my, is this your new one then? You've really outdone yourselves.

"I told you this convoy needed to present an image of high-class, and goddess did you deliver. He's adorable, and that horny little pony cock will certainly draw some attention. In fact, you know what, he and Head Girl need to be a little more to the front -- she's a gorgeous little filly isn't she -- so go down to carriage eight instead. It's the same pay but you might meet a better class of clientele to chat to about your growing business."

"Thanks, Nova, we'll go to eight. Why will we meet a better clientele?" said Mistress Rashida.

"Carriage eight will be carrying some choice little virgins we just enslaved -- high-value, high-class, very desirable, completely unmarked and untrained. I'll need your ponies to pull them with care, though -- can't have any damage to these goods, so take it slow if the road gets bumpy and leave lots of room between carts, you hear?"