A Quirk of fate-VII-a pony girl-[J-13]-part-1-of-1

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A Quirk of fate-VIIA pony girlPart-1-of-1 I’m Samantha Cunningham, Sam to my friends. I’m a hot looking 33 year old MILF who writes porn under the pseudonym, Dorothy…

A Quirk of fate-VII

A pony girl

Part-1-of-1

I’m Samantha Cunningham, Sam to my friends. I’m a hot looking 33 year old MILF who writes porn under the pseudonym, Dorothy Norwood. My son Frank. And my husband Charles both think I write Harlequin romance novels of which they have no interest. Neither has any idea that I write porn or how much money I make. Thinking my writing was a cute ‘hobby’ my husband Charles told me I could keep anything I earned and spend it on new dresses and shoes and such. Neither has any idea what a large stock portfolio I have or the T-bills or municipal bonds or actual cash in the bank.

I have a small checking account at the bank where Charles has his business and personal accounts in case for some reason he checks. . But my main account is at a small out of town bank in Palmer. Though small they handle all my banking needs with discretion. As one of their largest, if not the largest depositors they bend over backwards to accommodate me.

Sometimes my publishers wanted a specific theme. This time it was B&D-S&M. knowing I like to do research about what I write about, they referred me to an expert. We met in a coffee shop one afternoon to discuss it. Sitting at the table, we made quite a contrast, the Marlborough man and a society lady. The first word out of his mouth was, “This isn’t going to work. You won’t be able to take.”

“I can take anything you can dish out, buddy,” buddy I said insolently.

“That’s big talk but its all bullshit.”

“Try me.”

“Ok. Be at this address at 8: 00 Friday night and be prepared to stay a week>”

As I pulled into his driveway five minutes early, I was impressed. He had a huge farm with acres and acres of rolling green fields with a bunch of horses grazing in the distance. As I pulled up and parked he came stroll out of the stables looking even more like the Marlborough man with his faded Levis, a red plaid flannel shirt, boots and a battered Stetson on his head. I couldn’t help noticing the bulge in his tight jeans as he sauntered over.

“Well,” he said. “I see you made it. Just leave your keys and bags in your car. They’ll be taken care of.”

Then he led me through a big door into the stable. It was built in a ‘U’ shape with all the stall facing the inner court yard. There were grooms or whatever you call them going about their business. We stopped before the only stall with the door open. “Last chance to back out.”

“You wish,” I said insolently.

“Fin e. Take off your clothes and go in the stall.” Hesitantly I looked around at all the guys running around in the area. “Is there a problem?” he asked insolently.

“No,” said as I quickly stripped. As I stepped out of my panties and straighten up I made it a point to keep my hands at my side. Not try to cover my breasts and pussy with them. I felt like a piece of meat as he slowly circled me, his eyes running up and down my body. Hefting my breasts as if checking its weight, he mumbled, “Nice.” When he got behind me he cupped both my butt, twice. “Nice. I like that nice and firm.”

After all the groping all my teenage lovers did, did this jerk think patting my ass was going to scare me away. He’s got another thought coming.

Back in front of me he said, “Last chance. Once you go through that door there’s no backing out, no safe word. You belong to me for two weeks to do with as I please. No safe word and no backing out.”

Chin lifted in defiance I step through the door. it was closed and lock so quick it almost hit my heels. The only light was the dim glow from a small window high up in the wall. When my eyes adjusted I saw a pile of hay with a wool army blanket lying on it. In the back corner was a bucket. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that was for. Mounted on the wall on one side of the door was a big water bottle like you clip to a hamster’s cage with a big nipple so I could drink out of it. On the other side of the door was a trough with some kind of ground up grain with assorted nut mix with it. They were both mounted head high and could be refiled from the outside.

This was obviously his idea of sociological warfare. Fuck him. Let him do his worst. I don’t break that easy. I laid down on the blanket to get some sleep. As I was contemplation my situation the sun went down and the stall got dark. Suddenly I had to pee. I tried to hold it but it was soon apparent if I didn’t do something I was going to piss myself. I struggled across the stall and suffered the indignity of peeing in a bucket. Bladder empty I laid back down but all the strange noises kept me awake. What seemed like hours and hours later I got so cold I laid on the hay and covered myself with the itchy blanket.

After the most miserable night of my night a groom came in. when I sat up he grabbed my head and shoved a gag in my mouth. I was familiar with ball gags but this one was shaped like a fat short dick. He held it in place with a halter not unlike a horse would wear. Clipping a lead rope the halter, he pulled me to my feet and led me outside. There he tied my lead rope to a big ring mounted in the post holding up the overhang. Then he walked away.

To my left I saw about a dozen horses being tied in the same manner. To my right about a half dozen naked girls….well four girls and two naked guys…were tied to a post the same as i. my groom came back with a pail of water and a brush. First he brushed my hair and then with a sponge floating in the bucket of water he washed me off. Paying special attention to my breasts and between my legs.

All the horses and all the ‘ponies’ were treated to this grooming every morning. The male ponies almost always got an erection during their bath.

When my grooming was done a guy who looked like a blacksmith fitted me with a pair of black ankle high lace up boots with horse shoes mounted on the soles.

The Marlborough man showed up carrying a long lead rope and a buggy whip. Taking my lead he led me to where the other girls were being harnessed to one seated carts. Once harnessed up a client armed with a buggy whip got into the surrey and drove away. It’s like a riding stable. They rent the carts and girls by the hour and drive them around the bridle path. They can trot them, run them, whatever they want as long as they don’t hurt them.

You my dear are going to pull my cart for 2 weeks. It was a 2 wheel cart but behind the seat it had a luggage rack for carrying tool and supplies he needed throughout the day.

Then he led me to the center of a big corral. As he clip the long lead rope to my halter, he said, “This is called lunging. It’s to teach you how to move.” Then for the next hour I walked, trotted, lope, ran and strutted in a big circle around him while he gave me order punctuated with pops on my naked butt with his buggy whip.

“Normally you’d get more training but since I’ve only got you for 2 weeks most of your training is going to be on the job training.” Then I was turned over to a groom while he went to lunch. When he came back I was hitched to his work surrey. My wrists were cuffed to the shafts plus there was a horse collar around my neck with trace chains running back to the frame so I can pull the cart with my shoulders and not my arms. My dick shaped ball gag was replaced with a bit with reins, called lines that ran back to the driver.

For the rest of the day he put me through my paces around the 2 mile long bridle path. It had twist and, turns designed for the pony to obey the reins. Hills and dips to teach the pony to pull up a hill or control the speed going down. At the end of the day my mouth was sore because I wasn’t use to a bit. And my right butt cheek was sore from bring pop with his buggy whip.

When he was done with me, he turned me over to my groom.

Back in my stall I was so hungry that I ate the repulsive grain and drank the water from the nipple. And I had no trouble sleeping. I also learned that a groom would come through banging on the door. That was our warning to get up and grab a couple of mouths full grain and a few sips of water because we’d be given neither during the day.

It was surprising how quick I actually started thinking of myself as a pony. I thought nothing of prancing around naked pulling his surrey in front of the grooms, clients or anyone else that happened to be around. Because I was pulling his work surrey I went to public areas that ‘ponies’ normally weren’t allowed. One day he drove up to his office. While he was tying my lead rope to a post, a lady that had her horse boarded there came over to look and wanted an explanation. While he was explaining she was running her hands all over my body like you would do a horse you were thinking of buying. He let her drive me around in the parking lot while he was tending to business.

When he came out she wanted to buy me.

He told her I wasn’t for sale but he had 4 more that were. To uncut stallion and to mares. If you buy one of the males and you don’t plan on breeding him, we can geld him before you take possession. Then he suggest that she rent them and check them out before you buy. And your rental includes an hour of private stall time.

A couple of times he drove me out the front gate and a mile down the shoulder of the road to the store where we picked up some supplies. No one even paid any attention to us except a teenage girl. Judging by her back pack she was a runaway. They talked for a while and then he put a lead rope around her neck and tied it to the back of the surrey. Then she trotted along behind us back to the barn. He turned her over to a groom and we went on about our business.

The next morning when I was led out of my stall the cute little teenager was led out of the next stall and tied to a post. Her groom took great delight in sponging off her tiny budding breasts and her the silken wisp of pubic hair between her barely 18 year old legs. Seeing her reminder me that I wasn’t being able to shave and my pubic hair was growing back. I was going to look a fright Sunday night when I went home. I was really hairy so my bristly patch would be as big as a dinner plate by the time I went home. .

The Saturday before I left the held an open house carnival. Families from miles around came to see the surrey races. There was clowns making balloon animals and face painting for the kiddos. There was BBQ and all the trimmings. But the high light was the surrey races. Like real surrey races we couldn’t run. Only trot. In deference to the families the ponies wore bikinis. There was a ‘no one under 18” area for any who wanted to inspect the ponies without their bikinis. Believe it or not there were more ladies touching, fondling and fingering the merchandise than the men.

The lady that had test drove me in the parking lot wouldn’t take no for an answer. She spent nearly 30 minutes putting her hands on me. When no one was looking she fingered her pussy and then stuck her fingers in my mouth. I don’t know how long she’d have had her hands on me if I hadn’t needed to be harnessed up for the next race. Which I won incidentally.

When the Marlborough man brought me my clothes I was so immersed in being a pony I didn’t want to leave. When I finally got dressed and gone I stopped and let Butch fuck my brains out just to get my head straight. He was entranced by my new bush. He talked me in to keeping it for another week so he could fuck me again while I still had it.

Two months later the Marlborough man talked me into being a pony for the weekend during another festival. “I want you here because you’re a natural>,” he said. “No one has ever became a pony girl of your level in so short a time. It takes most people much longer just to get used to being naked in front of strangers, much less operate on the level you did.”

What he and very few people knew was that when I was young I acted in porno movies…what back then they called blue movies. It was before VCRs so they were filmed in 8 and 16 mm film, many in black and white. Since bondage was the big thing back then that’s what I did. But that was way in my past and I haven’t seen any of my films in years.

When I agreed he told me that it would be an adult only affair so there would be no bikinis. When I got there I went to the locker room to strip and put on my hoof shaped boots with the horse shoes on the soles. The Marlborough man thought it was funny for the ponies to have to walk naked the length of the property to their stalls. My assigned stall number was posted on my locker door when I got there. As I was lacing up my boots he brought me a present for helping him out. It was a thin belt with a long flowing tail that matched my hair. As I was buckling it on I noticed it didn’t interfere with access to my pussy.

As I walked to my stall my new tail wave rhythmically in time to the swaying of my ass.

Although Mrs. Jenkins still wanted me, the horse owner lady had bought the cute little ginger headed teenager and name her Ma Chienne, French for ‘my bitch.’ She was having a grand ole time showing Ma Chienne off to her society friends. They would trot her around the bridle path for hours watching the sway of her tight little butt as she trotted or ran.

At the festival Mrs. Jenkins offered me a lot of money for a 2 week contract to go to California and pull her surrey in a race but I was afraid once I came under her control I’d never get away. Especially after I found out she’d had her brand tattooed on Mà Chienne’s butt. It was no bigger than a dime and could be covered by her bikini. It wasn’t the tatoo per se that bothered me. It was her attitude towaeds ponies.

I don’t know why it surprised me because she was the one who sent me to the Marlborough man in the first place, but my editor Mrs. Magilliacutty was there with 3 cameras around her neck, a Polaroid instamatic and a Leica and one of those new VCR camcorders. Of all the people seeing me naked, having her see me was the first time I was ever embarrassed. Especially when she came over and started taking not only more iintimate and embarrassing naked pictures, but videos of my shame as well. Of course keeping with the theme of things I was nothing to her but another pony, so she treated me as such. Which meant when I was in the ‘over 18 area’ she took a couple of rolls of film and a video tape of me naked from every direction imaginable. And she felt free…hell it was her right as a festival goer to touch me any place she chose. And she chose to stroke my pussy and knead my breasts.

Later after I was back home, Mrs. Magilliacutty sent me with a nice album with ccopies of the pictures from both shoots and a video cassette of me at the festival and a new VCR to play it on. The delivery woman even hooked the VCR up to the TV in my office. The pony girl tape was the only one I had so the delivery woman had to run it several times while she was making adjustments. My cheeks burned with embarrassment every time she ran it.

The boys were living a teenage dream. Pretty little teenage girls to date in a normal fashion and a fine looking cougar to fuck. As the boys demanded more and kinkier sex, Charles wanted less.

He was too young to lose interest sex. I tried to re-kindle the spark from when we first got married. But nothing worked to perk up his libido. I tried lingerie, spontaneity, aggression, dirty talk you name it. Nothing worked

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