Career Opportunities by Sogo

Do not use without the author’s permission.

The head of the auction house entered the back room and let his gaze linger over the row of ponygirls lined up along the back wall. There were nearly a dozen of them, harnessed and bridled, their hands cuffed behind their backs, their eyes blindfolded, and their ears covered with headphones. They were all completely naked, and the tops of their bridles were hooked to rings set in the brick wall behind them. He was pleased. It looked like it was going to be a very profitable day.

“All set?” he said to the handlers.

“All set,” said one of the men, patting the end girl on the shoulder.

“Good. We start in five minutes.”

He went back out on stage to join the auctioneer and the assistants.

Exactly five minutes later, the cameramen signaled the auctioneer, who took his post behind the podium.

“Good evening, and welcome to Thrashtail’s Online Auction. Today, we have a beautiful assortment of ponygirls to suit a wide variety of tastes. We’ll begin with our first offering, a petite A-cup brunette who was trained as a ballet dancer.” The first girl, led by her reins, trotted out on stage. Her blindfold and headphones had been removed, so she was fully aware of her situation. “She follows orders well, has a high tolerance for pain, and would make a good showpony. The bidding will start at—“

Yeah, ballet dancer. I had trained hard since I was a little girl, because all I had ever wanted to do was dance gracefully on stage. I was good enough to become a member of a world-famous ballet company. I could’ve been the lead dancer in many shows. Instead, I was forced to become a fucking pony in bondage who will prance around naked for the amusement of my “owner.” Instead of pirouetting freely on stage, I’m now going to be clomping around in leather boots with horseshoes while tightly bound in leather straps as some douchebag smacks my ass with a riding crop. God, that training was a total fucking nightmare, especially that strap connecting my ankle cuffs; it was passed through a ring at the front of my waist belt, and was too short, so that one foot was always up in the air. I was trained to prance for hours using that Goddamn thing, until my legs felt like they were ready to fall off. And then they added a bar along the back of my harness, so that my back was always held straight as a board, and a neck corset, so that my head was held high. By the end of each day my whole body was screaming with pain. Follows orders well? I had no choice. Has a high tolerance for pain? You better believe it.

“Sold! And that is one lucky ponygirl who is destined for stardom. Our next item is a six-foot brunette with high C-cup tits. She worked as a paralegal and went to the gym almost every day, so she’s smart as well as fit. She would make a handsome cart pony for your estate or vacation home. Let’s start the bidding at—“

Smart as well as fit. A lot of good that’ll do me. All I have to do is obey the reins. Even a mule could do that. And here I am with an IQ of 141. Almost genius level. Good use of my talents here, guys. Way to go! I just hope they provide me with glasses or contact lenses, ‘cause I’m pretty much blind without ‘em. And maybe some clothing, too, ‘cause I’m kinda self-conscious about running around naked in public. Perhaps we could start out with a high-impact sports bra and full-cut panties. I’d appreciate it a bunch. And I do hope you’ll let me handle my own personal hygiene. I can floss my teeth and change my sanitary pad like a big girl now, so you don’t have to. Cut down on medical costs, if that’s your main concern. Please, Mr. Auctioneer, could you mention all this to him? Because, you see, I’m kinda forbidden to speak from now on.

“Sold! Boy, wouldn’t you look grand tooling around with that statuesque beauty at the end of your reins. Ponygirls are the new sports cars, I always say. Okay, our next little number is a full-figured gal with D-cups fresh from nursing school. This one’s for someone who likes ‘em plus-sized. But don’t let that fool you—she has energy to burn. Do I hear an offer--?”

No, I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry. I’ve been through so much already with all the cruelty. Making me work until I was ready to pass out. Threatening to make me a hucow if I didn’t meet their goals. But the worst was rationing my food and withholding sweets, so that even showing me a piece of chocolate made me drool uncontrollably. You guys loved doing that, didn’t you, you fuckers. Make the fat girl want it so much she would do anything for it.

“Sold! To a connoisseur of big tits most likely. Moving on, we have a stunning little beauty with a gorgeous face, long blonde hair, and a 32B chest. We expect the bidding to be hot and heavy—if you’ll forgive the bit of sexual innuendo there--for this sexy number. Let the bidding war begin.”

You forgot to mention that I’m an actress. If you enter my name in the IMDb, you will see that I’ve been in several small independent films and had a recurring role in a cable TV series. I was up for a supporting role in a major Hollywood movie, but not anymore, thanks to you wonderful folks in the ponygirl industry. I was beginning to get noticed, and critics were starting to single me out as an up-and-coming star. Now, the closest I can get to stardom is being an anonymous ponygirl performing on stage or in a circus. Assuming I’m not chosen for something else, like being a cartpony and hauling people around like a rented mule. If this were a movie, somebody would recognize me and rescue me. In real life, I may be condemned to being a domesticated animal for much of my life. FUCK!

“Whoa, I think we’ve set a new record, folks! I’m sure she’ll be providing years of pleasure for her Master. Next on the auction block is a willowy little number with big, soulful eyes and nice lemon-shaped B-cups. Don’t you just love those soft pink nipples of hers? I do! She may be thin, but she’s got stamina. We’ll start her off at—

Lemon-shaped B-cups? Is that my selling point? I’m a singer/songwriter, and a damn good one, too. I could’ve had a decent recording contract if you assholes hadn’t lassoed me into being some little sex toy trained to amuse some rich, jaded scumbag. If you don’t believe me, just take a look at my youtube videos. If these fuckers haven’t taken them down, that is. I’ll never be able to live this shit down, even if I’m freed tomorrow. Ponygirl with a guitar. Who’s gonna take me seriously after this crap? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

“Sold! Y’know, some flowers in her hair and some body paint, and she would be a perfect complement to your organic garden. No need to spring for bras, either. And now we have a strong athletic type who used to run marathons. Work her as hard as you want, my friend, she can take it. But as you can see, that doesn’t take away from her feminine charms. Do I hear--?

Jeez, what did they say to make the last girl burst into tears like that? Hell, if I could only get out of these damn restraints I’d give them a few tears. Training was tough on most of us, and it pissed me off to see one of these helpless girls screaming or crying, which happened often. I was about the only one who could handle training without any major problems. Or suffering much punishment. And I thought triathlons were hard. Those bastards worked us hard all day. And now we’re being sold off. Like cattle. I just hope my owner takes good care of me so I can get back to athletic competitions again.

“Aaaand sold! Those athletic ones go for big bucks, but they’re worth every penny, I can assure you! A cute little redhead is up next, and we’ve let her bush grow out to show you that the red is all natural. And like all redheads, she has very light skin, so don’t leave her out in the sun too long. But if you do, put lots of sunscreen on her, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy doing with those C-cups and shapely hips of hers.

I’m sure he will. Male hands all over my body again. It’s not even mine anymore. With my cuffed hands, I can’t even scratch an itch, but strange men can wash me, dress and undress me, change my “protection,” and even masturbate me against my will. I was hoping to have a Ph.D. in bioengineering in a few years, but instead I’m getting a crash course in sexual engineering of the female body. If only I had stepped away from the microscope every once in a while and seen the political climate for what it was becoming, I probably could have escaped this fate. Finished my research in another country. Too late for that now. Who knows when I’ll resume my studies, if ever. They gave us no indication of when we’ll be free. I’m afraid by the time that happens, There’ll be so many advances in my field, I’ll have to start all over again. So much for my career.

“Sold! By the way, I should mention that we’re throwing in a butt plug ponytail made from her shaved hair, so she can be a ginger top and bottom. And finally, we have a muscular weightlifter who would be perfect for plowing the fields or hauling those heavy loads. We should caution you that she is very strong, and that she’s tried to escape a few times, as you can see by the whip scars on her back and butt. We’ll start her off at--?

Damn right I tried to escape. No way I’m going to let this nicely-sculpted body be abused for their pony shit. Plow horse? Yeah, they made me do a lot of that in training, especially after my second escape attempt. Being yoked to another girl and dragging a plow through the hard soil. Sure toughened me up, though. I could work that field all day. But do that for the long run? Not if I can fucking help it. I’ll keep trying, no matter how much they punish me.

“Sold! And that wraps it up, folks. Join us next week when we’ll be auctioning off a fresh new herd of hucows. So long, and enjoy your ponies. Bye-bye.”

THE END

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05.03.18