Archive-name: life-as-a-pony
VARIATION ON THE "LIFE AS A PONY" CHAPTER FROM THE SLEEPING BEAUTY BOOKS OF
A. N. ROQUELAIRE. Part I.
by Frank Albertson
As a consequence of my bold but foolish attempt at escape, I now found
myself tethered naked in a straw stall, condemned to two years of service as
a village draft pony. I had been brought in the night before and washed down
by the grooms. A strange yoke was secured tightly around my scrotum,
trapping my balls beneath it. Bars led out and back from this yoke through
my legs handlebar style, to which were attached manacles, and my wrists were
bolted into these, firmly holding them at my sides behind my legs. My arms
were now useless, and any struggle only yanked at my defenseless balls. In
this condition, I was led to the stall. Here I was bent over two waist high
boards, my legs spread and ankles chained, and my neck chained to the board
supporting my shoulders, which mercifully had a little platform attached to
it by poles to support my forehead. I realized I was intended to sleep this
way (and would for the next 2 years). This past night, however, I got
precious little sleep. I was intensely discomfitted by my new situation, and
full of fright for the day and days to come. As always when I was feeling
fearful or anxious, these emotions went directly to my unprotected balls and
cock, which wagged up and down in the air helplessly, exposed to and teased
by the gentle breezes of the summer night air...
I was startled as the groom awakened me -- I had finally dozed off into
a brief and fitful sleep around 5 am. He held a bowl with an oat mixture of
some sort under my face, and when I failed to recognize it as a fit breakfast
for a pony like me, he gave a smart snap to the back of my legs with his
riding crop and pushed my face into the gruel. This was my first feeding,
and to my surprise, the stuff actually wasn't that bad...
When I finished guzzling the oats and water that was brought, I started
to say something to the groom, only to be met by a fierce stinging blow to
the cheek with the riding crop. Thus I learend the first rule: I was to
spend the next two years as a mute, dumb animal, good for nothing but to
serve as a beast of burden. To underline this point, the groom held my nose
and when I opened my mouth for air, grabbed my tongue with pincers and
attached a painful clamp to it. I didn't know for how long I would be forced
to wear this abomination, which certainly made further speech out of the
question.
What I had wanted to tell the groom was that I was urgently feeling the
calls of nature. There seemed to be no provision for this; certainly none
that I had been shown since my arrival late the previous afternoon. I knew
there had to be a latrine quite nearby from the pervasive odor of the place.
The pressing need was beyond endurance, and I was sure I would lose control,
when it hit me... I was to imitate a pony in this regard as well! I resolved
to try to hold it until I was on the road somewhere, away from the stable,
but just then the effects of my morning meal took this decision out of my
hands, and I let loose with my wastes in spite of myself. There was no way
of preventing the foul mess from streaming right over my trapped hands. I
was completely mortified, but the grooms seemed to pay no attention.
The time was now coming to prepare the teams of ponies for our day's
labors. Harnesses with bits and plumes were put over our heads, and we were
led by these to the staging area. It felt good to stetch upright from the
nighttime position, but I was acutely aware of my nakedness, and my cock only
made matters worse by straining and throbbing in a full erection! While we
were waiting to be harnessed to a cart or carriage for the day, the grooms
concentrated on the decorative aspects of our preparation. One by one our
cocks were annointed with a shiny oil. I reared as this was done to me, and
noticed a maddening tingling sensation as the oil penetrated my skin. Next a
leather band was put around the head of my cock, with little chimes hanging
from it that swung and tinkled with every movement of my cock. Next, a
leather pouch was fastened tightly over my balls. This pouch had a tether
attached to the bottom of it. I jumped when the groom pulled on this tether
to test it -- the effect was not only to yank my balls, but to squash them at
the same time! There was also a mysterious valve-hole at the top of the
pouch, to which a fine tube was attached. I was to learn the purpose of this
device later. Next, clamps were attached to each of my tits, linked by a
fine chain with a weight attached to it. The titclamps bit into my tender
skin, and I dreaded how they would feel when the suspended weight yanked on
them with every step... The groom now added another decorative touch: a huge
dong with a sheath of horsehair at the end was shoved up my ass!
I was thoroughly humiliated by all these preparations, and blushed a
bright scarlet. But no notice was paid, and the preparations of all of the
ponies proceeded in the same manner. My cock continued to jump as each new
debasement was added, which only caused the damnable little chimes to jangle
and brush against the underside of my inflamed member.
All was ready now, and the grooms began to attach us to the assorted
carts, wagons and carriages that were to be our load for the day. It turned
out I was part of a team of four to be harnessed to a work wagon. We were
positioned side by side in front of the wagon, which had 4 poles attached to
the front. One of these poles was passed between my legs, and screwed
tightly into the yoke entrapping my balls! I immediately understood that my
arms would be very busy doing all they could to pull the weight of the wagon
and relieve the pressure on my tortured nuts. If they should cramp up, all
would be lost!
I watched as other teams were yoked to their loads in similar fashion,
and noted that the reins, ball tethers and the strange tubes leading from the
ball pouches were all placed in the hands of the team drivers. I could also
see that there was a little bulb at the end of the tubes, which the driver
held in his hand.
Our groom gave us a last once-over, striking here and ther with his
stinging little crop, and then called out to the driver, "Let 'er roll!",
and my life as a pony began in earnest, with a jump and a scream. For the
driver had squeezed the little bulb he held in his hand, and sent a squirt
of hot red pepper juice to my trapped testicles! All of the ponies lurched
forward, and we were off. I pulled as hard as I could, but could not prevent
some of the weight of the heavy work-wagon from pulling on my poor nuts.
When the driver wanted us to speed up, he would send another squirt of the
burning liquid down the infernal tubes, or lash into our exposed backs with
his whip. We spent most of the day at a brisk trot, and the bouncing weight
soon had my tits feeling like they were on fire. When the driver wanted us
to slow down or stop, he would yank on the tethers, squashing our balls in
their tight pouches. As we tried to stop, the momentum of the wagan would
wrench our balls in the other direction.
I was in constant agony, but to my surprise, as the day wore on I began
to gain some control by anticipating and trying to cushion my balls against
the worst shocks using my arms to carry the load. I could tell that my
fellow ponies were also in constant pain, but that they bore their task with
spirit and held their heads high. I certainly understood now why their
biceps and pecs looked so strong. We were driven quite long and hard, and
each time we stopped, the sweat was pouring off of each of us. The driver
seemed to enjoy our torment. He would circle about us at a stop and strike
out with his cruel whips and crops. He seemed particularly amused by the
condition of our exposed genitals, taking sport in lashing their undersides
with sharp strokes of the crop. The combined effects of the ball and tit
pain, the stimulating oil and the little chimes were certainly keeping my
cock hard, and the same seemed to be true for the other ponies, as well.
When we finally returned to the stables toward evening, I was one total
mass of aches. We were released from the wagon, and the grooms soothed our
aches with warm soap sponges and careful cleansing, with special attention to
our most sensitive areas. Our "decorations" were removed, but our hands
remained as ever firmly fastened to the ball-yokes. We were returned to our
stalls and fed, and left for the night. I was faced with the same problem of
before concerning the call of nature. The horse-tail dildo had effectively
prevented me from acting on my plan to "do it in the road." I did notice
that the straw had been cleared and refreshed during the day, and I resolved
to hold it for morning if possible, so as not to have to endure the stench.
Having no liberty, I had already been forced to pee wherever and whenever the
need demanded during the course of the day, to the amusement and glee of
passing villagers.
Now, however, my biggest problem was the rampant ache between my legs.
My cock ached and strained uselessly, driving me mad, and there was
absolutely nothing I could do about it. The tension swept over me in waves,
knotting my muscles from my thighs to my neck, and would subside only to grab
me yet more mercilessly in its next assault. This was the worst torment of
all, depriving me of my desperately needed rest and making sleep impossible.
As the hours went by, I was brought to the edge of tears.
The next two days went by in a similar pattern. My body slowly adjusted
to the work, but the pain was constant and I found my mind unable to adjust
to the humiliation. I constantly feared for my balls, and my feet were solid
blisters. I was covered with sweat, and defenseless against flies and
insects. And I was tormented constantly by the need to relieve myself with
no way to hide from the eyes of passing strangers.
But when we would stop in a village square it was worse. The locals
would gather around and comment on us, what fine animals we were. I bridled
and blushed at this, and in spite of myself my cock jerked and jumped and the
damned little chimes jangled. Now and then one of the villagers would come
up to one of us and run hands over muscles, feeling their bulk, and give a
yank on a nipple chain, slap a cock around, or even give a few jerks to a
throbbing, needy member. Any protest was quite impossible with the bits in
our mouths. We were at their mercy.
On the second day it rained, depriving our feet of traction. We slipped
and slid in the mud trying to pull the heavy work cart. The driver whipped
us all the harder to get us moving, and more than once I screamed in utter
agony as I lost my footing and I thought the damned yoke would wrench my
balls off.
The nights continued to be a torment. I found that despite my best
efforts I was unable to control my need to shit after having my butt plugged
all day, and when this happened I had no way of escape from my own stench.
And my COCK! Surely, some relief had to be provided, our I would go mad.
It was on the third night, after we had been put in our stalls and fed,
that I sensed an electric excitement in the air. The other ponies seemed to
be pawing the ground, whining, and eyes were diverted toward the entry to the
stable. I couldn't see the cause of this agitation, but soon I heard gasping
and panting sounds coming from one of the ponies in a stall near the door.
These sounds rose in pitch and intensity, then broke off, followed by gentle
sobbing. Now the sounds were coming from a pony two stalls down, rising and
rising toward a climax, only to break off.. The effects of these sounds on my
own cock were quite unbearable. Now whinings of a slightly different tone
were coming from the next pony. These were sounds not of a cock being worked
toward orgasm, but of the extacy and desperation produced by a light and
teasing touch on a horribly inflamed and needy organ. These new and more
maddening noises went on for quite some time, to be ended suddenly in sobs
more intense than those which came before. Being stalled toward the back of
the stable, I was still unable to catch a glimpse of the author of these
frightful effects. But noises now began to emit from a stall half way down
the stable. Slowly and constantly they rose and rose. My own heart was
beating as they came shorter and shorter and higher and higher, and suddenly
I heard the shriek of a ripping, exploding climax after weeks of pent up
frustration, and the sound of squirt after squirt of heavy jism hitting the
sides of a bucket. So it was POSSIBLE! Possible that *I* might even be
chosen for such blessed release. This astounding realization increased my
agitation triplefold as the pattern continued to repeat itself, drawing
closer and closer to my stall. Some stalls were skipped altogether, but from
most I heard either the gasps and pants of a cock being worked, or the whines
of a devilish touch-tease. From one or two there were screams that could
only be wrenched from balls and cock being severely beaten. Now the sounds
were coming from the stall next to mine, and I saw her. She was 15 or 16, a
simple village milkmaid with a milking stool and a bucket. And she was
milking away on the member of the pony next to me, who was gasping and
panting in ever greater desperation. Every muscle in my own body was rigid
and aching and my cock felt like it would burst its skin as the milkmaid
worked the pony next to me on and on. Finally he let out an earth-shattering
shriek, and came and came into the bucket. Every sound of his release went
straight to my guts. And now she was at my stall. My cock was a vibrating
shaft of iron with veins bulging and juice oozing as she drew near and sat on
her stool. For the longest time, she just looked as my cock throbbed and
throbbed and I made pleading whining noises. Then I felt her light hand on
my balls, and a light finger tracing the underside of my shaft and around the
head. PLEEAASE, PLEEAASSEE, I thought over and over again as the maddening
touch-tease continued. Now and then she would grab my cock firmly, squeezing
it or pulling the skin back and forth slowly, and then return to her touching
game. I broke down in uncontrollable sobs, and the hand was gone. Now the
milkmaid was working the cock of the pony on my other side. My own
devastation was total, yet I was immediately caught up again in the rhythm of
the sounds crashing in on my ears. She was working his cock in earnest, and
within seconds he let loose..
When the "milking" was complete, I noticed that the ponies across the
stable had been "milked" by a young villager who was probably the milkmaid's
twin brother. These two compared notes and sloshed the "milk" in their
buckets, and then began to lewdly stroke and caress each other as well as the
grooms. A regular orgy ensued, with each groom having his turn both with the
milkmaid and her brother. No thought of any kind was given to discretion in
these proceedings, and the moaning and repeated sounds of climax and orgasm
did nothing to quell the torment of my aching cock and balls.
end of part 1
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