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People are ponies too 1
Copyright Bound Jenny

This is the English version


Warning! This story might contain activities that might not be suitable in selfbondage. Please play safe.

Pony play is something I have been thinking about for most of my life, ever since seeing an illustration of a fully harnessed horse in a dictionary. I drew all sorts of harnesses, each more fantastic and exciting than the last. I had some very elaborate fantasies revolving around pony play. I had no idea that pony girls existed until much later. When I did discover this, it was one of those pencil-dropping, wide-eyed, "damn, I'm not the only one" moments. Isn't the Internet wonderful?
I dedicate this story to someone who has come and gone, who could have had great potential had she been allowed to progress and evolve among us; unfortunately, some people with exceedingly poor judgment caused her to leave. She probably didn't engage in pony play, but that is beside the point. I will not forget her.
It's also the last time the bad guys win.
You can call me Kim. Or by another name, Sparkle. Either will do, the first is my real name, the second is a name I respond to when I become someone, or something else. How Sparkle entered my life is a story that I have to share.
University is tough. I finally earned my doctorate, and I can start working in my selected career, as a psychotherapist. All those years of shutting out all else, maintaining absolute control, concentrating on learning everything there is to know about my future profession, and even inventing new ways of applying that, finally bears fruit. But there is a lot of stress, tension, countless ups and downs, fighting, clawing and scratching to make it to the top.
I have been interested in bondage and such things from an early age, I can't even remember when exactly. I know I was fascinated by the women who were frequently being tied up on television, in detective stories, and comic books. I felt a certain envy for them, and got to experience their situation to some degree when playing cops and robbers, or cowboys and indians, with the neighborhood kids. Those days have passed, but I still enjoy being bound, and gagged, and a little bit of pain. I used bondage as a release for my tensions during my college years, it was very therapeutic. I continue to tie myself up for the same reasons, and for pure enjoyment, of course!
I had landed a dream position with a reputable institution, but it wasn't open for another few months. Fortunately, spending time helpless waiting for one's release cultivates one's patience. I would wait, because I don't know where I would end up if I looked elsewhere - like going for one's emergency release, it could be yuckier than expected. With over three months of free time ahead of me, I was looking for something to change my ideas a bit, to really relax, let go, let loose.
I was chatting over coffee with my friend Silvia, one who occasionally shares some bondage sessions with me. I was poring over some brochures to spas and resorts, and Silvia noticed that I seemed dissatisfied with the mundane nature of these establishments. She knew for some time I was looking for somewhere to get away.
"Kim, I know how you like bondage and such, and how you use it to relax. I don't know how you do it, but that's another matter. I have a suggestion for your escape from the rat race."
I looked up at her, puzzled. "What?" She pulled out an elaborately decorated brochure, very elegant, almost Victorian in style, with gold and silver filigrees and flourishes. On the front fold was printed, in calligraphic lettering, "Liberty Stables". A photo of an immaculately clean house, with equally spotless stables and perfectly groomed grounds in the background, adorned the front fold too.
"Horse riding? There are at least two of the resorts in my pile that have that." I said grumpily. Silvia opened the brochure, and I froze when I saw the photo on the inside. "Not horses, Kim. Ponygirls." My jaw dropped. I was speechless as I read on. And getting goosepimply all over. In a good way.
After a couple of paragraphs, I looked back up at Silvia. "May I keep this?" I said in an euphoric tone, half aroused and half scared out of my wits (the way I love to feel when tied up). "By all means, Kimmy. Take it home, read it, think about it. My feeling is this is exactly what you need - to let go, completely, to escape into another world." Deep down in my heart, I knew she was right. I just had to let the rest of my brain catch up. "Thanks... I'll think about it."
I couldn't sleep. I sat up in bed, my bedside table lamp on, reading the pamphlet. My skin was peppered with goosebumps, and I had this euphoric feeling in my mind, a bit like being stuck in molasses, mesmerized, as I imagined what was described. I had always dreamed of being a ponygirl. Though the prices were steep, everything was included and there were several plans offered from a simple weekend getaway to a prolonged stay of any duration. There was one two-month package that I found appealing. I could afford it, and then some; I was by no means destitute, even after my long years of studies. And once I started working, I would be secure.
I finally fell asleep with the brochure in hand.
The next day, I fired off an e-mail inquiry regarding the available plans and what was included in the price. I received a response almost immediately - that impressed me. If there is anything I appreciate about any commercial establishment, it's prompt service. Even if this establishment was quite unusual. The response was an offer to come to my home to discuss it - even more impressive. As requested, I phoned them, and set up an appointment at home at ten a.m. in two days. Two days...
I was bubbling with excitement, scurrying from one end of the house to the other repeatedly like a kid waiting for Christmas to arrive. I called Silvia to tell her about the appointment. She was happy for me, and said that I wouldn't regret it.
On the second day, at ten o'clock sharp, a large black limousine pulled up in front of the house. Its black-tinted windows left no hint at who was inside. The uniformed driver got out, and rounded the vehicle before going to the rear passenger door. He opened it, and stood stiffly at attention as the sole passenger got out of the car with a small briefcase. She was tallish, wore dark sunglasses, and was immaculately dressed in a black jacket, brilliant white blouse, and a black leather pencil skirt that hugged her black-stockinged legs tightly down to just above the knees. Her sky-high stiletto pumps were polished black, perfectly reflective. Her waist was unnaturally tiny, betraying the presence of a very tight corset.
As she approached, I could see more details of her. She was in her forties, well-preserved, with dark hair down to her shoulders. She wore little makeup, just enough to enhance her sharp features. She looked like she was all business. Before she was up to the door, I had opened it and was waiting for her.
"Good morning, ma'am." I said cheerily as she gracefully climbed the three steps up to the porch, despite her high heels and tight skirt. She extended her hand and smiled politely, and I took it as she introduced herself.
"Good morning to you, Miss Kimberly. I am Heather J. Spencer, president of Liberty Stables. May I come in?" I had just noticed the little horseshoe-shaped lapel pin on her tightly tailored jacket. "Of course, Ms. Spencer."
It had just dawned on me that this elegant lady, the president herself, had traveled halfway across the continent just to see me, to talk about something I hadn't even signed up for - yet. That mere fact impressed me a lot. I led her to the living room and we sat down. She did so gracefully and slowly, taking off her sunglasses, and her eyes were just as black as the limousine she arrived in. Her manner was delicate and polite, yet her tone was firm and assured.
"Our establishment has been in existence for thirty years." she began. So she wasn't the first president. "It is a family business, and we take pride in our ability to take care of our guests and provide them with all that they need during their stay." I nodded understanding, nervously.
She explained to me in detail the various plans. It was the full training and grooming program that I liked, since I wanted to know all there is to know about being a ponygirl. I asked her about this, indicating my interest in learning the fine art of equine life.
"That, my dear, is our best program. You come in as an untrained pony, and you will go through an intensive training regimen, living like a pony, literally, in the stables, tended to by our best trainers. All is provided to you - food, drink, lodgings, equipment. You will be trained in proper pony gait, deportment, behavior and performance. And when it is all over, whatever gear, restraints, harnesses and tack you have been provided with in the course of your pony training is yours, excepting any fixed equipment at Liberty Stables. Any personal effects lost or damaged are replaced. Any injuries will be cared for at our expense. Any home expenses, bills, etc. will be managed by our caretakers." She gazed down at my cat, purring loudly as she rubbed against the woman's legs. She usually didn't like strangers. "We will even feed your cat. For the two months you specified, you will have no concerns other than just being a ponygirl. Absolute freedom from all the cares of the world."
That euphoric feeling returned to me, as well as a slight moisture between my legs. The entire concept turned me on more than I expected. And it was exactly what I was looking for - no cares for two months, a total release from the iron self-control and total concentration I had to practice for years. I only had to let myself go, let myself be led, to live the simple life of a pony. Heather J. Spencer watched me as I stared at the array of documents laid out on the coffee table. Her perfectly painted lips smiled faintly as she saw my blank, deer-in-the-headlights expression and my short, rapid breaths. She knew a sale when she saw one.
I had no idea how long I sat there making a fool of myself, I tried to answer her, but no words came out. Her firm but gentle voice prodded me out of my reverie. "Pardon me?" she asked. "Oh, sorry, Ms. Spencer. I was... thinking." The faint smile returned. "Yes. I mean I'll take the full program. Two months. Please."
The elegant president of Liberty Stables pulled out a contract, already filled in with what I had wanted. She knew already what I had planned, what my heart cried for. I read it as a precautionary measure, to be absolutely certain of what I was getting into, even if I wanted this more than anything in the world. I pulled out my cheque-book. I wrote the cheque, for the full amount. The contract said the fee was non-refundable after the first two weeks had passed, so I looked carefully at the documents before I put my final signature at the bottom of the first page of the contract. I committed myself.
I filled out a medical questionnaire also, which is understandable given the fact that I will be more treated as a horse than a human for two months.
I was given instructions a few days later, in an envelope delivered by courier. There was a first-class airline ticket, full return fare, in the envelope. The instructions were simple: the next weekend, I was to go to the airport, take the scheduled flight to my destination. I was to take along only minimal baggage. What was that? I was going for two months - then I remembered that everything was provided. I did provide to take about two weeks worth of underwear, and a few changes of casual clothing, just in case. I could wash them at any laundromat if the need arose.
I followed the instructions. I went to the airport, went through the customary security measures, entrusted my baggage to the airport's handling facilities, and boarded my flight. It was uneventful, and though it was not my first trip by air, I felt a certain exhilaration.
I recovered my baggage intact (wow) at my destination, and a black limousine was waiting to take me to my first destination, a small but elegant hotel on the outskirts of town. I was to wait there for my ride to Liberty Stables, the next day. I enjoyed the luxurious accommodations fully, on my last day as a regular human woman for the next two months.
The "rooms" were actually small cottages scattered across a large property. Each was secluded, isolated by hedges and bushes. It was delightfully quiet.
There was an envelope with my name at the front desk, and it contained more documents. One was a detailed program of activities. The first two weeks were basic training, and lots of bondage. I smiled with satisfaction at that. I was hoping for the most intense experience, and I was going to put myself into it. Those two weeks were the time it would take to make my pony gear: latex catsuit (for lack of a better word, because pony suit brings to mind those ridiculous two-part costumes where one person is the horse's back end...), body harnesses of various configurations, corsets, bridles, hoof-boots (essentially heel-less high heels with wide toes), and a list of other hardware, including custom restraints, that made me tingle in excited arousal. It dawned on me that since this equipment was made for me, I would be taking it home... More than ever, I wanted to go through with this.
I showered, enjoying the hot jets of water on my smooth skin. The hotel had exquisitely scented soaps which I took full advantage of. When I was finished, I smelled wonderful. I went to bed, in the nude, covering myself in the soft, slippery silk sheets. I felt totally pampered. I slept fitfully, the excitement of the coming day causing me to toss and turn the entire night. I dreamed of frolicking among horses in a mountain valley meadow filled with spring flowers.
I woke to a polite but insistent knocking at the door. I rose and quickly donned a bathrobe before checking the peephole. Two women dressed in riding clothes waited at the door. I opened the door and greeted them. "Kim?" they enquired. "That's me." I answered somewhat groggily. "I'm Gwen and this is Trudy, your trainers. Are you ready?" I was stunned. "Now?" I asked, incredulous, looking down at my bathrobe. "Let me at least get some clothes on..." The one nearest me, Gwen, shook her head. "That won't be necessary, Miss. And your belongings will be taken care of. Please remove your bathrobe and follow us to the transport vehicle." She gestured toward a pickup truck, with a horse trailer attached. I blinked. "You want me to ride in there?" She smiled, "It's part of the package. The whole experience. It is not far. Only an hour's drive."
I thought for a few seconds, and then realized that I was to be a pony from beginning to end. I looked left and right, just to see if there was anyone who could see my in my unclothed state. "No one can see you from here, Kim." I took a deep breath, and dropped my bathrobe. "All right, I am a pony now." I stepped out of the cottage and into the fresh morning air. I felt a certain exhilaration at the exposure, increasing as I approached the trailer's rear. Trudy opened the trailer, and helped me in, as Gwen went to board the truck.
Inside, I was told to stand still, as Trudy started putting some light restraints and a crude bridle on me. She explained that these were temporary and not part of my eventual pony gear, just for transport. I giggled with excitement as my arms were box-tied behind me, my legs hobbled by a short chain, and a collar put on. The collar, bridle and ankle cuffs were chained to the sides of the trailer. I was advised to stay down on the floor of the trailer, back against the front wall, for my safety. Trudy padlocked the door of the trailer and headed to the passenger side of the pickup truck.
During the drive, the experience of being bound helpless in a horse trailer caused me some arousal, in addition to the thrill of being in that state mere feet away from passing cars, trucks, buses, and the occasional pedestrian. At one red light, I heard a young girl, maybe five or six years old, on the curb ask her mother insistently to "see the horsey". I suppressed the urge to giggle, as these people were only a couple of feet beyond the wall of the trailer. Well, once I would start giggling, it would quickly degenerate into a roll-on-the-floor belly laugh of unprecedented proportions. I was having the time of my life.
After about an hour, the towing vehicle and trailer slowed and we turned off the main road. By the pattern of light and shadow, I figured we were on a tree-lined road. We stopped, and I heard a buzzer. An intercom box squawked something unintelligible from my position, and I heard Gwen answer, "We have our guest aboard." Another squawk from the intercom and I heard some metal gates opening. The truck moved forward, pulling me and my trailer inside. I heard the gates close again.
It was only a few minutes before we stopped again, and I heard the pickup's doors open. My heart was pounding in anticipation.
Trudy and Gwen were there to get me out. They unlocked the tethers and helped me out. "Come on, pony! Giddyup!" I giggled, drooling over my bit, as I stepped out of the trailer. I put on a little show and pulled on the leads, whinnying and snorting. "Oh, a spunky one!" said Gwen cheerily, as she pulled me hard, playing the game. Now I was really enjoying myself.
The grounds were like a real stable's, spacious, but very clean, and quite well groomed. In the distance I could see some other ponygirls being trained, some with full bodysuits and heavy harnesses, and others that were just about naked, like me. Trudy gave me a gentle slap on my bum, "You'll frolic with the other ponies later. Come along and we'll get you settled in.
I was taken to a large barn-like building, inside which was an area about twenty feet square where I was fitted with a very heavy metal collar attached to heavy chains, arranged so I would be held in the center of the room. My arms were still box-tied behind me, and the hobble chain still fettered my ankles. The collar forced my head erect, and it was a snug fit around my neck. I pulled on the chains, managing only a couple of inches of movement.
I was left there for about fifteen minutes, alone, while Gwen and Trudy were off doing whatever they were supposed to do. The returned with Madam Spencer herself, but this time she was attired in some very tight-fitting black leather riding clothes, including a riding crop and a pair of stiletto-heeled boots that would have made me drool had I not been doing so already because of the bit between my teeth.
"So here is our new arrival." she began, in her businesslike tone. "Nice long mane. Looks healthy and strong, and seems to have a lot of energy." she continued as she walked around me slowly, ducking the chains, inspecting me. "Energy that will be put to good use with proper training. What have we here?" she asked, punctuating the question with a light snap of her crop on my left butt cheek. She had noticed my tattoo. "A sprinkling of sparkling stars." she remarked nonchalantly. Actually, it was a representation of the Pleiades, a cluster of stars seen in wintertime. I had that tattooed after seeing that cluster through the college's telescope. "We will call her Sparkle." Gwen agreed. "That's a nice name. I like it." I whinnied and snorted my agreement, nodding as much as the collar could allow. "Our new pony seems to agree. All right, take care of her. Give her a stall and whatever she needs. She is yours to train." I felt another snap on my right butt cheek before I heard the sharp tapping of the scrumptious stilettos fading into the distance.
Sparkle was born.
Before I was released from the collar, there were a few other formalities to tend to. I was thoroughly measured, like I had never been measured before, and in places where I had never been measured before. The gear used on a pony at Liberty Stables was custom-fitted to each guest, and belonged to her when her stay ended.
Trudy came out with a portable tattooing machine. She sat down and explained, "I'm going to tattoo the initials of Liberty Stables on your right butt cheek, since your left one is already occupied by the stars." As she began the process, she said, slowly and deliberately, pausing as she applied each stroke, "Once you come to Liberty Stables... you... never really leave. Actually... Liberty Stables remains within you..." She wiped the area clean and covered it with an adhesive bandage. "That will come off soon." Trudy withdrew, calling out to Gwen, "Okay, she's ready!"
My trainers removed the chains and the steel collar, finally liberating me. They also untied my arms, which were getting a bit cramped up because of the position and immobility. More rope was produced, and it was used not to restrain me, but to create a sort of body harness. It was an interim measure, until I received my real pony gear.
Gwen pulled at my reins and led me out of the inspection and preparation area, and back outside in the morning sunlight. The air was fresh and clean, and the sun bathed and warmed my skin pleasantly. I remembered what Madam Spencer had said, "absolute freedom from all the cares of the world".
I was returned to reality by Gwen's voice. "Let's see what you have in you, Sparkle." She let out the reins some, and jerked them a little. Trudy was by my side, watching me. I started trotting along, trying to emulate what I had seen in videos off the Internet. "Forearms up." Trudy coaxed, gently tapping my wrists with her crop. I complied. Gwen remarked, "She has some natural talent. A little faster, Sparkle!" I obliged, increasing my pace. "Keep those legs bending up high!" With the increased speed, I tended to neglect my gait form.
The entire first day was occupied with this kind of evaluation of my abilities and capacities. A light lunch just kept me filled, but by supper, I was famished as I was led to my stall, inside the stable building. This facility was kept at a constant temperature, and meticulously maintained to very strict cleanliness standards. My stall was about four feet by seven feet, a narrow cot on one side, and a small table on the other. Trudy showed me the door to the toilet at the back of the stall. It was spartan, but adequate. What else would I need? I was a pony, after all!
The meal, by no means extravagant, was filling and very nourishing. I ate it heartily, the whole day of prancing around, out in the open air, had my stomach screaming for food. The other side effect of this outdoor activity was blissful exhaustion. I fell sound asleep soon after my meal, curled up under my blankets, dreaming of open fields, and the sound of hoofbeats.
The next two weeks were just about the same routine: eating, sleeping, training. Gwen and Trudy gently coaxed me along, sharpening my skills at properly executing each gait. It was very important for some gaits that I bring my knee up to hip level at each step, and in all cases, that I execute each step gracefully, almost like a dancer. I finally put the ballet training I received as a girl to good use. There were some other "tenants" of the Stables that were hopelessly clumsy, or were staccato-like in their movements, even if technically, they performed them well.
My mind was at peace, even euphoric. I just let myself drift into being a pony, becoming Sparkle in my heart as well as in the flesh. In the second week, the daily routine included bondage, involving lots of rope. I particularly enjoyed that, of having this attention on me. That's about it - being tied up is literally being the center of attention. When I tie myself up, I become the center of my own little universe, completely helpless, alone except for the companionship of the ropes. At the same time, my training started to include partial bondage, mostly immobilizing my arms in one position or another. The most common was the box-tie, but I also enjoyed the dragonfly sleeve, and especially the reverse prayer, uncomfortable but extremely arousing for me.
Once a week, I was put outside for a few hours in an enclosure, arms bound behind me, my ankles hobbled, an improvised rope bridle holding a dowel between my teeth. No training, just roaming around with other pony girls. I made the acquaintance of Sarah, alias Honey, a petite young woman with a sunny disposition and quite some talent. I learned that she was a repeat guest, on her third visit to Liberty Stables. She came here for a couple of weeks every summer, to unwind, to cast all her cares away. She was clad in a very elaborate pony harness, over a slick black latex body suit, her long, flaming orange hair falling behind her like a fiery mane. Oh, did I envy her.
Honey's story struck a chord within my heart, and I started to understand Trudy's remark about one never really leaving Liberty Stables. You get hooked. Honey started with a short stay, three years ago. The next year, she came back for a long stay, similar to mine. That's when she got her pony name. And discovered the blissful pleasures of being Honey. She also enjoyed bondage very much. We vowed to keep in touch after this was all over.
I liked Honey very much and it would be a shame to lose touch with her.
My envy of Honey's pony gear did not last long. The next day, I was led by the improvised reins for the last time to the fitting room, to get fitted with my full pony harness and other accessories. The mere sight of the gear, carefully laid out on the table, made me shiver in delight.
The slick black latex body suit went on first. It had a zippered crotch, allowing use of various toys and other devious accessories to increase my pleasure, or torment, whichever tickled my fancy at that particular moment. The tight embrace of the latex felt really, really nice. The corset was put around my waist next, but with a protective black tube of stretchy cloth to keep the corset from damaging the latex underneath. I loved the increasing pressure as the laces were drawn, shaping my waist and lower chest into a more curvaceous form. A black latex hood over my head, with allowed my hair through out the back, like Honey's, and left my face open.
A high, stiff posture collar, with rings all around, encircled my neck. It had soft cloth on the inside to protect the latex, like the corset. I could turn my head now, but I wasn't able to nod anymore.
Before I was further disabled, the pony boots were put on my feet. They were shaped like a horse's hooves at the toe end, and had no heel. But there was a metal horseshoe built in, and I liked the sound it made as it clapped on the hard wood floor.
For rendering my arms useless - ponies didn't have hands or arms, just legs - there were three options. One was a very formidable looking armbinder, all leather, with heavy shoulder straps, laced closed and further secured with a half-dozen heavy buckles along the length of the apparatus. It looked both frightening and incredibly exciting. That was tried first, for fit. Trudy and Gwen asked how far I wanted them to cinch it down, and I smiled, and said, "All the way, please." They pulled and yanked at the straps, and my elbows were almost touching inside. "How is it, Sparkle?" "Perfect."
The second one was another armbinder, but it was box-shaped and held my arms inside across my back. It was also attached to me with heavy straps. A test fitting confirmed it was correctly fabricated and ready for me to use any time.
The last one, that they would leave on me for now, were hoof-gloves. Long latex sleeves tipped with hooflike appendages almost identical to the toes of my pony boots. Now I was fully transformed into a pony girl. My hands were useless, so I could no longer escape my new identity. I felt a strong shiver throughout my body, like a powerful electric charge, at the realization that I had crossed the line from being just another naked human woman in bondage to a hybrid creature, a chimera, a delectable little cross-breed of human and equine parentage. I danced around a bit in glee, much to my trainers' amusement.
Calming down, the rest of the gear came on. A full harness, heavy and elaborate, with studs and rings and buckles, metal breast cups that could be removed, and a wonderful smell of fresh leather. I have this thing about fresh leather. I bought a pair of fine Italian leather boots a couple of years ago, and startled the clerk with my reaction to the scent when she opened the box. I took a deep breath now, inhaling the wonderful odor of the harness, and growled sensually as I exhaled that breath. Gwen and Trudy didn't seem fazed - they probably have seen many react like this.
A bridle that not only imprisoned my head in straps and buckles and rings, but also was attached to the posture collar in such a manner that I could no longer turn my head. The rubber-sheathed bit held my mouth slightly open, and I was drooling a bit. Blinders limited my field of view to straight ahead. I felt my identity slip slowly back to Sparkle, the pony. Reins were attached to the bridle, and Trudy coaxed me gently to a trot around the fitting room, the metal shoes on my hooves clapping sharply on the hard floor, resonating pleasantly, the scent of leather and latex permeating my senses, the close grip of my attire stimulating every square inch of my skin.
I don't know how long my mind drifted into another world, but I heard Trudy calling my pony name, which pulled me out of my reverie. "How about a little trot outside, Sparkle?" I answered with my best whinny and a smile that didn't require words. My forearms were attached to the shoulder straps with padlocks, rendering my arms completely useless. A tug on the reins urged me forward, and soon I was out in the crisp morning air, proudly trotting along the road that ran through the large grounds, contented beyond my wildest dreams.
My first trot outside in my new gear revealed a bit of clumsiness in my gait and posture. My trainers took steps to remedy that. I was to be taken for training on the treadmill. That sounded innocuous enough. But this training would be with my full pony gear, and with the various arrangements for immobilizing my arms.
The first session was with the monoglove arm binder. It was laced closed and the straps cinched as far as they could be taken down. My arms were pulled severely back, projecting my bust forward. To ensure my safety, my harness was attached to an overhead frame in case I tripped and fell. I was assured that if there was any excess weight put on the suspension chains, an automatic shutoff would stop the treadmill instantly.
Trudy started the treadmill off slowly, a slow walking pace, so I could get accustomed to the movement. Gwen was gently snapping a crop on my butt, coaxing me to get into my pony gait, each step bringing my thigh up, perpendicular to my body, and then back down again. The speed was slowly increased to get me incrementally up to the proper pace, while keeping the proper form. This went on for twenty minutes, followed by a ten minute break, and then back to trotting for another twenty minutes, and so on. One thing I did appreciate was the design of the crotch strap of the harness. It massaged my... nether regions... quite pleasantly as I trotted along. Let's say that I found that somewhat addictive, and motivated me to keep going.
Each day, I spent a half day on the treadmill, each day switching the arm binding from the monoglove to the box to the hooves pinned to my shoulders.
After a week of this, treadmill time was cut in half and I was taken outside for the rest of the time. According to my trainers, I was making excellent progress. Another week passed, and I was started on pulling a light sulky, Gwen or Trudy riding in it.
A highly unusual thing happened in the fifth week of my stay, on the treadmill. Once I was hooked in and trussed up, my arms tightly bound in the monoglove, the crotch strap of my harness was undone and the zipper opened, revealing my lower bodily orifices. Trudy explained, "You have excelled quite nicely so far, so we're going to add some... difficulty... to the training." I had signed up for the full treatment, as it were, so I whinnied my approval. Smooth, cold metal touched my pussy, and entered inside me. I couldn't see down because of the collar and bridle that immobilized my head. "That's a pussy hook, Sparkle darling." I giggled through the bit. A chain was pulled up to a spring just ahead of me on the overhead frame, pulling the hook up and forward. This was the first time I had experienced this, and though the sensation was odd and highly unusual, it excited and aroused me intensely.
The treadmill was started, and I began the routine of doing my proper gait and trying as hard as I could to maintain my posture with that hook pulling, moving and shifting unnervingly inside me. That worked deviously in concert with all the other gear that bound and cinched me. The speed increased slowly until I reached my trotting pace. Then slightly faster, where I changed gaits to adapt. The pussy hook worked relentlessly on my self-control. I was panting and grunting, sometimes growling as the irresistible and inescapable stimuli drove me closer and closer to the brink of an orgasm. This lasted about ten minutes, before the treadmill slowed down again and finally stopped. I let out a guttural roar of satisfaction, breathing quickly and deeply as I recovered. I froze as I heard a male voice, peculiarly accented, say, "I like her. Can she be ready in three weeks?" Then I heard another familiar voice, one I hadn't heard since the day I arrived. The voice of Heather J. Spencer. "Yes, I believe she can be made ready for you by then. If she agrees." "I most certainly hope she does. She has a lot of potential as a model."
The president of Liberty Stables came into my limited field of view. "My dear Sparkle. One of our regular... clients... I would say, is very impressed with your appearance and ability to perform. Once you are freed from this machine I wish to see you, to make you a proposal. Gwen! Trudy! Release her from this and have her led to my office, and remove the bit, please." Ms. Spencer trotted off on her stiletto heels, which I heard resonating through the corridor until she left the building.
I was taken down from the treadmill, my crotch zipper closed again, and led along by the reins, my arms still pinned solidly behind me in the monoglove, elbows touching inside. I instinctively trotted along in proper pony fashion, legs raised high and gracefully and then lowered down, each step making a resounding metallic thud as the horseshoes hit the hard floor. A short walk from the stables to the main building, a Victorian style house, elegantly decorated and meticulously maintained. Inside, I was led to Ms. Spencer's office, and Trudy told me to remain standing, to wait for her. The bit was unhooked from the bridle, and I worked my jaw back into place as I waited.
It was not long. Heather J. Spencer appeared a few minutes later. "Pardon my tardiness, Miss Kimberly." This was the first time since I arrived that I was called by my human name. I almost forgot that it was me that she was talking to. "It's all right, ma'am", I reassured her. "What is this proposal you want to make?"
She went back to business. "As I had mentioned before, a client, or rather a collaborator of Liberty Stables, is impressed with you. He knows about your penchant for bondage and pony play. He comes by once in a while, to see if there is some talent for his business, and send some of his models here for pony training. We have an informal arrangement."
"He runs a place that is rather difficult to describe. It employs models, regular and occasional, to..." she hesitated, "how can I say this, ride? Yes, ride. To ride some of his contraptions that ally strict bondage and sexual stimulus, while being filmed and photographed. The videos and photos are published on the internet, for paying subscribers." I started to have an idea of who she was referring to. I had some fantasies of "riding" some of his devices. "I believe I know who you are talking about." I said, a tingling feeling peppering my body.
"Good. He likes your style, your appearance, your performance, and would like you to be one of his models." My eyes widened, and my expression went blank. "There is no pressure, Miss Kimberly. You need not accept, though it is of my opinion that you could benefit from even an occasional appearance at his facilities." I was conflicted. Though I didn't object to this man's work, and even fantasized about being subjected to it, I was worried about the exposure and its effects on my career. I was a little nervous about that. "Can I think about it, before I give my answer?" "By all means. I suggest you make haste, because there will be some changes to your training and equipment to fully prepare you. Do not worry, all your original equipment will still be yours, along with the new gear." She paused, and I nodded. "I'll sleep on it." "Good. Trudy! Sparkle is all yours!"
The story continues in part two: Hoofbeats: People are ponies too 2

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