Pony Girls Stories

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Pony Girls Stories
Original Fiction by Tes
Staylace,
in collaboration with Phil Boarder  
©2003
“All, right, Horace, let’s get to it!”
Hawkin’s Plantation, Beaufort, South
Carolina, Spring, 1849: Bringing out the pony.

“Damn, Sean, you are so lucky! What a pony! All the fellas are
jealous!”
“Father is good to me. I appreciate
you helping me,” said the handsome eighteen-year old.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world - she’s
really special!”
"Almost lost her for the spring – father
wanted to foal her, but then changed his mind after I begged him to wait. 
There ARE others…but…I guess I’m just spoiled. Did you bring out the
cart?”
“Yup. Right here,” untangling the
mass of straps and other paraphernalia. “And I told Cress to get her and
bring her out here. There – there they are now,” pointing toward the
shabby shanty at the far edge of the field.
“Prancer” looked down at the ground as she
and Cress approached the boys. She sighed. Another season of agony. 
Maybe if she hadn’t been so accommodating last year, they would have found
another slave to play this wretched part. But then she might have suffered
a worse fate – at least winter wasn’t so bad. They even allowed her to help out
the house niggers for a while. Easy stuff. But THIS wasn’t going to be
easy!
“There she is! Come here, girl!”
said Sean. “You can go back, Cress.”
“Yassir, Master Sean!” - back to the
slave’s quarters, with sad look in his eyes, which the nineteen-year old girl
returned. Cassie was his daughter, and he knew what she was in for – she had
spent all winter telling him about the rigors of being Sean’s pony girl.
“Don’t worry, Cress, we’ll take good care
of her!” said Sean, with a big grin. “Maybe teach her a few new things! 
Take her into town!”
“Going to make your father proud,
Prancer!”
It was fairly common among the plantation
owners of this part of South Carolina to supply their sons (and sometimes
daughters) with pony girl slaves to pull them around all summer. After
all, they weren’t hardly even human. Not like white folks. Some even
had two, three or even four such pony girls! It was a status symbol, in a
way. Toward the end of the summer, after using them for transportation,
they pitted them against each in pony girl races down at Philbert’s Racetrack. 
The track wasn’t much, just a small plot in a clearing in the woods down by
Marion’s Mill, but it made a exciting end to the summer, and had become a
tradition even their parents looked forward to. Big money was bet, and a
pot was put forth for the winner of the competitions.
“Ok, girl. Let’s get you fitted up!”
said Sean to the hapless slave. He and his friend were smiling broad grins. 
“Got something special for you this year, Prancer, don’t we, Horace?”
“Actually, Horace, we have a couple of
things.”
“A couple…,” said Horace, a bit surprised.
“But first,” said Sean, ignoring him, “the
basics. Stand still, Prancer. You know the routine. You’re
gonna be some right winner this year, girl!”
She stood there, clad only in a cotton
shift and light leather booties. She had small tears in her eyes – she
knew only too well what was coming.
 The arm harness. Well, after all,
she WAS a pony! Ponies don’t have arms!
 “Take off your dress, Prancer,” said
Sean.
And she did. There she stood, a pretty
girl, almost totally naked in front of them, they eying her like a piece of
meat. But she was used to this – it was nothing new. If she could
stand being raped by Master Sean’s father, well, she could stand being naked in
front of his son and his friend. What was the sense in feeling anything
anyway? She was their property.
So Cassie was resigned to losing her arms
for the day, maybe two days. She sighed, and stood her ground while the
boys applied the harness, the result of which was that she ended up,
elbow-to-elbow behind her, with her arms projecting upward between her shoulder
blades and her wrists tied together. It was certainly not comfortable, but
after while she knew it would be easier. Although it was an extremely
difficult position to get into, the boys knew the special technique, and
gradually forced her into the awkward state, she all the while groaning, but not
saying word.
Her hands and wrists were then encased in
a tight leather pouch, at the end of which was a loop. She knew what that
was for as well.
“Mighty fine!” said the envious Horace,
seeing her anew. After all, Cassie was a beautiful black girl, and neither
boy nor man could remain placid for long in her presence. Especially with
her arms back in such a way as to project her voluptuous breasts out in front of
her. But the beauty that a white girl could use to wield power over them
was denied this chattel. Slaves were different. She looked down at
the ground.
“Well, here’s the first surprise,
Prancer!” said Sean, taking from a bag the next item. 
To Horace: “Papa thought of this good
idea. Seeing how a lady’s stays can be used to control her…I mean…pull her
around and things when you’re having fun, well, Papa thought something like that
would be good to control a pony. You know, around the middle, instead of
the tight belt.”
Cassie looked at the item with interest.
“So, Papa had the old leather man Joe in
town make a heavy leather corset, with laces.”
Indeed it was, wide that is. When it
was applied, it extended from below her breasts to just above her crotch. 
It was easy to see that a pony wearing that could NEVER sit, so she would never
be tempted even if left alone! Not that that was ever really a problem
anyway, for when a pony was tethered to a pole while her master was away, it was
impossible for her to sit anyway.
The corset was impressive. Made with
metal studs and decorative metal accents, it was quite heavy. Soon it was
encircling Prancer’s waist, and Sean began tightening the laces.
Horace grabbed the laces. “Here,
like this. Let me show you. Lucy always has me lace her in.”
“The advantages of having a sister. 
Go ahead. You do it. Go to hell with yourself.”
My sister isn’t branded,” he said,
smiling, eyeing the mark Cassie’s buttocks. Slaves in this part of the
South were all painfully branded, not just pony girls. Good for tracking
runaways.
It was soon apparent that Cassie was in
for some breathless moments. She sometimes was called on to help the
Madame Mistress lace in during the winter. Often marveled at how pretty
she looked, all trussed up that way, making such a tiny waist, and with her huge
hoop skirt petticoats. Once even thought how SHE’D look that way…but
this...”
“Tighten it nice, Horace boy. She’ll
have to get used to it tight, so, at the race we can loosen it a bit, and she’ll
be able to breathe proper, and she’ll go to town! I love that control! 
Got to have control.”
“Grand idea, Sean. Your father’s a
genius! It’ll make it tough on her carting us about, but she’ll live with
it.”
“Well, maybe we can put another slave in
harness and double them up, so we will get our speed anyway. I’ll ask
Father. Have to have some more tack though.
Cassie was puffing as the laces were
tightened. She wasn’t used to this. The air was being squeezed out of her . 
How do they expect me to run like this, with no air?
“Hold her, Sean,” said Horace. Got
to have some counter pull.”
"Right.” He grabbed her around the
waist, pulling the groaning girl toward him until her breasts were up against
him. “This is nniiccee…,” staring hotly into the girl’s eyes. “Maybe papa will
give you to me for something other than ponying some day, eh girl? Maybe
after you’ve been given to a nice stallion stud, and made us a nice NEW race
pony.” He rubbed his face into her breasts, and then kissed her. She
was helpless, the tightening corset pushing out her breath, the rogue’s mouth
preventing any small amount of air from replacing it.
“Yes, my man – a bonus for you!” 
Horace said, as he smiled and tugged. 
Just one more humiliating, painful day in
a slave’s life of humiliation and pain.
Sean pulled his mouth away. “Take is
easy! Don’t make her faint! Don’t have time for that right now. Want
to get her on the road. Prancer, breathe from your chest, here, here,
where your teats are, girl,” he said, roughly grabbing one breast and shaking
it.” (Cassie vaguely remembered something like that when she was helping
with Madame Mistress’ lacing.)
To her relief, Horace said, “Yeah, we can
tighten her up more later,
"I guess.” But it was still horribly
tight. She had never felt such compression on her waist. Maybe they
will forget to tighten me more . She was gasping for breath (not that
the boys took notice), as Sean pushed her away and Horace tied off the knot. 
She HAD almost fainted.
As she panted, Sean proceeded to attach a
strap from the back of the corset to the front, tightening it in place between
her labia, and making her start. “Wouldn’t want Prancer’s corset to ride
up and pinch her tits!”
“Oh, dear, Horace! The pony’s
bothered!” said Sean. With a wicked little grin on his face, he unloosened
the strap and ran his hand in between Cassie’s labia, pinching her clitoris. 
“Could be MORE bothered, you know!” rubbing up against her breasts once more and
looking into to her eyes, as she jerked at the pinch. Sean thoroughly
enjoyed looking to a slave’s eyes as he was making her uncomfortable. It
was exciting to know that they could do nothing about it. And reassuring. 
Standing orders to the slaves included that, in such situations, they were
prohibited from looking away, no matter what. The punishment for doing so
was severe. The trick which most had learned, was not to show defiance in
their eyes, but that was sometimes difficult.
Horace watched as Sean played with
Prancer, slowly putting his finger into her vagina, making her wet. To
Cassie, the game seemed to go on forever.
“Oh! Getting excited? Maybe we can
satisfy that…maybe you need something, girl. Horace, do me a favor – go in
the house, in the library. There’s a bowl of dried corncobs Mother put out
for decoration. Get me one of the smaller ones.” He was staring into
Cassie’s eyes while saying this.
“What? What for? … Oh! Ooooh! 
Gottcha! This’ll be fun!” as he ran away.
Cassie was frightened – it showed in her
eyes, and her body trembled. She had never had anything up there before.
Other than The Master’s penis, and that was not too large. And she was
going to be expected to RUN with it in there – and with
this tightness around my waist!!
“There, there now. Calm down,
Prancer. It’ll be all right. Feel good!” said Sean, continuing to stroke her
crotch and poke his fingers.
“Got it,” yelled Horace, as he ran to
them, holding up an orange and black corncob.
My God! I can’t fit that inside
me!
“Very good, Horace,” taking the cob from
him. “Nice one! Made her good and wet – should be easy!” 
Cassie quickly forgot the pain in her waist.
The cob slowly went into her – Sean did
not go too fast –wouldn’t want to ruin a good pony!
“Please…Master!” She couldn’t help
blurting it out. But, of course, he ignored her.
Soon, it was home, and Sean quickly
replaced the strap tightly, holding the cob in place. 
“There,” he said, with a look of
satisfaction. “Talks a lot, eh, Horace? That’ll be enough of that.”
“No, my boy – that’s the second surprise! 
We got something better! Hold her head, Horace.”
Now what? She
felt like she was being ripped asunder and squeezed together at the same
time.
“You’re going to like this, Prancer! 
No need to talk any more! Silence is golden!” He brought out a strap
with a smooth piece of red hard wood in the shape of a pear attached, split from
the narrow end, and hinged on the wide end. Before she could react, he was
force-jamming it into her mouth, narrow end first. As her tongue was
forced into the breach, the pear, making its way to the back of her mouth,
clamped down on her tongue, trapping it there. “Don’t move your tongue, or
it’ll not be flat in there, Prancer. Do yourself a favor and make it
comfortable.”
Comfortable?
She had no choice but to comply. If she didn’t, her tongue would be
creased and agony would ensue. As it was, it was painful at first, her
tongue being pinched by the hard wood as it was stuffed into her mouth, pushing
together..
She began to gag, but that soon subsided. 
The strap attached to the pear was free, but there was no way Cassie could have
forced the pear out, so tightly was it wedged in her mouth, now behind her
teeth.
Breathe through your mouth, Prancer! There
are holes in there just for that,” said Horace.
Sure enough, that helped. It was
good to know she would not be pulling a cart around, running, with no other
access to air than her nose – that is, if she COULD draw air in, with the corset
so tight! God! My jaws ache, and my crotch! The
discomfort of the arm straps quickly receded to the background.
“All right now. We might as well fix
your head harness while we’re at it, right Sean?”
Cassie began to cry –she was in pain, and
even her previous hard experience as a pony girl couldn’t prepare her for the
tight corset, the pear bit, and the cob. They were horrible! The arm
harness she was used to, and she guessed she could get through the rest. 
But these three items were almost unbearable, especially the pear – and on the
road they would be impossible!
”What’s the matter, horsie? It’ll
get easier, you know that.”
“That’s right,” said Horace. “And later,
we might pair you up with Master Silas’ pony girl, Chickey, so the load will be
less.”
“Unless we add more riders!” He
smiled. They reveled in the consternation that showed on Prancer’s face.
And consternation it was, certainly not
alleviated by the boys’ application of the head harness gear. A standard
bridle went over her head first, over her short-napped hair, and buckled into
place. To that was added blinders, to prevent the pony from being
distracted; it made her world even more isolated. To the head harness was
buckled the strap holding the pear bit, as if that were necessary. Then
the coup de gras: The reins attached to their bits controlled regular ponies:
Right, left, stop, go, forward. However, The Master had found a more
effective way to control his ponies, one Prancer knew well from last year, one
of which she was reminded all year long, whether playing pony girl or not. 

Two years ago the separation in her nose
had been pierced, and part of setting her up as a pony girl in the spring
included placing a small rod through her nose. THAT allowed for MUCH more
control that a bit-rein! THAT got a pony’s attention VERY quickly. 
There was NO counter-pulling from that! The reins were attached to the little
rod, which extended out past the edge of her head in each direction.  
But, despite the severity of this device, it was ‘old hat’ to Cassie, who had
spent last winter nursing the reddened orifice. The rod had been removed
at the end of last season, but had been replaced for a week at a time during the
winter so that the hole didn’t heal over. She hadn’t had it in now for
three weeks. She hated the damn thing, but now it was going to be a part
of her face for another season. More torment. She sighed a
beleaguered sigh, as best she could manage with her pear bit and excruciating
corset.
As Sean slid it through the hole, he had
to push a bit, as the orifice was beginning to heal over, and thus was a bit too
accommodate the rod. It smarted, but her other pains overshadowed it, and
it was merely another blip in her agony. The tears had stopped.
“Good girl, Prancer. All’s left is
your posture strap. Make you look proud! Make US proud of you!”
Yes, the posture strap. The strap
that connected the top of her head harness with her leather mittens. It
was one of the few things that came off every night – except once when she was
being punished for running too slowly.  She imagined they would never
make her sleep with the pear and corset. But then, one could never put
anything past these boys. If they could make her spend the night with a
posture strap, then they could do anything. She remembered how horrible
that night was. 
“Beautiful!” Sean stood back to
admire his pony. Horace seemed pleased as well.
“She’ll make SOME trotter end of this
summer! Even if she doesn’t place, she’ll certainly win the “prettiest
pony” category!”
“Right you are! Here, here are her
tassels.” They promptly placed them on the small rings that were embedded
in her pierced nipples. “Right pretty!”
Cassie didn’t feel complimented or
honored. She was too involved in dealing with her extreme discomfort, soon
to be exacerbated by running with a cart behind her.
“Bravo! All right, let’s hook her
up!” With that, the boys guided her over to the small cart, which
accommodated only one rider – she’d never have been able to pull two. 
Actually, the only two-rider/two-horse cart belonged to Silas, the boy on whom
they wished to impose later.
As she was hooked up, she felt the
familiar tug of the cart that was attached to the rings in her waist belt, now
her new corset. The reins soon tugged at her nose, and she was set to go.

“All right, Horace, I’m going out for a
test run. You can go out after. See you in a few minutes.” 
With that, he jumped onto the small cart, grabbed the reins, flailing them, and
yelled, “Gettiup, Prancer!”

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Rachel walked down the dirt path in cool fall air on her way home from school. She wore a pair sneakers, blue jeans, green hoodie and dark blue beanie. Her hair shoulder length long blonde hair, bright green eyes and light skin. The path that lead to her home was quite long, a little over a mile and a half with only wooden fences on each side. She lived on a large horse farm owned by her father, many of the horses breed and raised there were frequently taken to race, used in movie and shows and other ranches. As she walked along she than heard the familiar sound of hooves approach, looking over she saw a pale white horse and bright gold mane trotting along side the fence "Angel!" Running up to the fence and petting the horse along its muzzle "How are you girl? You come to get me on my way home?" The thing neighed and shock its head, Rachel laughed and climbed over on its back and holds on to the mane then ride to the barn and house. Angel was Rachels own horse, she arrived in a trade same time her mother went missing a few years back while herself and father were in town, no sign of her but torn clothing. Rachel and her father were devastated how ever she quickly found a connection and bonded with the new horse, Angel always helped feel better when she was upset. Finally getting back home she see's her father step out of the barn than to his truck and she quickly rode up to the side of it. "Hey dad, where are you going?" Quickly jumping to the ground "Aah Mike said he gonna try to drop off a younger breeding horse late so I need supplies to fix and expand some of the older pens, plus I'll need you to help me with vaccine Shadow, he might be getting sick." "Oh I can take of Shadow dad." "Are sure Rachel he's a stubborn
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