Painted Pony

A little more to the left, I thought as Maggie swept her way around the stall. As if my thoughts could move her, she stepped between the support poles and just underneath the beam from which hung a bunch of old rope. We had been playing grab-ass all morning while we cleaned the barn so when I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her she only giggled and ground her tight little butt back against me. I let my hands roam up the front of her body: the flat, well-exercised stomach, her perfect breasts resting in an old bikini top. I kissed the back of her neck, reveling in the smell of clean woman sweat and the hint of perfume.

“We’re never going to get the barn clean if you keep this up,” she breathed softly. I answered her by turning her around and taking the broom from her hands. Dropping the broom, I gathered her up into a warm romantic embrace and kissed her with all the passion I could muster. Her response solidified both my resolve to carry out my plan as well as my manhood: she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her.

“Oh my,” she laughed, “looks like someone else is getting excited.”

She dropped one hand to my crotch, rubbing it through the jeans material. I drew in a breath of excitement as I reached around behind her back and quickly untied her bikini top. It was her turn to gasp as I hastily pulled it off her, releasing her tanned breasts to rub against the rough cloth of my workshirt.

Almost there, I thought as I kissed her again and began making my way behind her. Once again I let my hands travel up her stomach to cup her bare breasts, the nipples of which were quickly swelling and hardening. She sighed and squirmed and her hands reached up to cover mine as they made their way up her body. I moved my hands to her waist, then resumed their ascent. As I had planned, this caused Maggie to raise her arms up above her head where my hands soon joined them. Within seconds I had slipped the pre-positioned loops of soft rope around each wrist, pulled the slipknots comfortably but inescapably snug and secured my lover in place.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously with a tinge of excitement, her head turning around to look at me.

“I’m making you my prisoner,” I said, smiling. She must have heard the love and lust in my voice as she closed her eyes and turned away from me. Now my hands traveled down her arms to the slim curve of her waist, then around to the front of her cutoffs. I covered her neck and shoulders with kisses as I slowly unbuckled her belt, then undid the button and with merciless slowness, unzipped the fly. The waist loosened in slow motion, looser, looser, then parted like the petals of a rose as the shorts slid down her tanned legs and puddled around her feet. The now nude Maggie gasped and struggled gently but the spider had done his work well and the fly was good and truly trapped.

I stood back and admired the rear view of my prisoner. Her chestnut hair flowed down her back almost to the top of her sidelit buttocks. Golden morning sun pouring through a window highlighted the curves of her back and ass in a way that left me longing to get either my camera or a handful of body butter. There was more work to be done, though. Kneeling at her feet, I sought to untangle them from the jumble of cloth that had been her shorts. Pulling one foot loose, I stripped it of its sandal and slipped another loop of hidden rope over it and around the ankle. I repeated this step with her other foot, and after some fiddling she was left standing comfortably spreadeagled between two ceiling support poles.

Her useless struggles – pulling at the ropes that held her hands and feet – revealed the writhing muscles hidden beneath her smooth, tanned skin. At that moment, more than anything else, I wanted to press my cock between those sunlit buttocks, slick with sweat, and take her like a wild animal – but that would have to wait. I pulled myself away from that awesome sight and dragged an old footlocker out from under a shelf. Maggie craned her head around trying to see what I was doing. I retrieved an item from the footlocker, all leather straps and shiny buckles with a flash of bright red rubber. I held it behind me as I approached her from the rear.

“What... what are you going to do to me?” she asked, her voice breathy and trembling with excitement and maybe a touch of fear. She had nothing to fear from me - she knew that - but this game required an unwilling prisoner and this was her way of being one.

“Close your eyes,” I said softly, stroking the hair on the back of her head. She obeyed, her green eyes closing slowly as she turned back to look away from me.

“Now open your mouth.”

Her soft pink lips parted slightly and I thought for a moment she was going to balk at my command, perhaps use the safe word to stop from losing the last bit of control she might have. But her lips continued to part, revealing the warm pink tongue I so enjoyed, until her mouth was open enough for me to push the crimson rubber ball in. Her eyes flew open when she realized what I had done but before she could do anything, I had the gag secured in place. More straps radiated from the ball and I spent a good ten minutes securing them around her head. Now those flashing green eyes stared back at me, a beast trapped within a cage of leather. Unintelligible sounds were all that came from her filled mouth and her writhing re-doubled to no avail. Walking around to her front, I crossed my arms and admired the perfection of my prisoner’s body.

“You asked what I was going to do to you and here it is: you are going to be the subject of my greatest experiment.” I almost cackled like a mad scientist. “ I am going to transform a beautiful woman into a pretty pony.”

Now her eyes got really big as I approached her and put my mouth next to her ear.

“After your transformation you will wear a bit and bridle, a leather collar and harness. You will have hooves and a tail and you’ll wear my brand forever. There is nothing you can do to stop this from happening and you will begin your transformation right now.”

Moving around behind her, I went to the footlocker and removed some colored plastic bottles, a flat metal tray, and some disposable foam paintbrushes and rollers. With Maggie grunting and struggling in the background, I opened the first bottle and poured its contents into the tray – smooth white bodypaint. I poured a generous amount into the tray and, using a foam roller, began covering her with the white paint. Leaving her feet unpainted for now, I worked my way up from her ankles to her calves, thighs, ass.... inch after inch of her pink and tan flesh disappearing under a coat of flat white.

I chose for her design that of a pinto pony: white base with brown and black patches randomly spread over her body. I had a picture with me to use as reference. Aside from the building tension of the scene I was creating, I was especially enjoying the sounds she made as I ran cool, wet roller or brush over various parts of her body. A thick, soft brush slurping up between her ass cheeks freed a moan from behind the ballgag. Running the smooth roller up her thighs to almost – but not quite – touch her pussy brought out a muffled squeal of surprise. Gentle dabs at her stiff nipples caused her eyes to close and a thin rivulet of silvery drool to drop from her mouth to her chest. With each square inch of flesh covered, that much less human she appeared.

She was now completely covered in the slightly off-white paint, with only her head, hands, and feet left. From a nearby peg I took down a worn but still sturdy leather crop and held it up in front of her face. Her eyes got big again as I whipped the crop against my pantsleg, making a sharp snap that got her attention.

“Ponies don’t speak,” I said staring into her eyes only a few inches away from her face. Another “thwack!” against a support pole.

“Understand?” I asked softly. She nodded slowly and, putting down the crop, I removed the gag harness from her head. I thought she might test me, if only to find out what it was like to be disciplined with the whip, but she remained quiet as I finished painting her face and neck.

Leaving her face and neck to dry, I put away the white paint and opened a bottle of black paint. I brought a small crate over to her and, grasping her right ankle I bent her leg up at the knee so she was left standing on one foot while I held the other between my knees. I used a medium brush to paint her bare foot black – the color of a hoof – all the way up to the white at her ankles. Brushing the arch of her foot and between her toes caused her to wriggle and nearly burst out laughing but a quick swat of her now dry ass stopped that. I rested her foot on the small crate to dry while I started on the brown splotches.

The first splotch covered the left half of her face, neck, shoulder and back. When that was finished I went back to her foot and painted a silver horseshoe on the bottom. The next splotch I worked on covered her right breast, hip, and buttock. With her right foot totally dry, I let her put her weight on it and worked on her left foot, giving it the same color treatment and horseshoe. The final splotches were small artistic touches to her legs and arms to make a balanced color effect – her skin was now a perfect match to the pinto reference photo.

Once the bodypaint was dry it was time for her harnessing. I carefully styled her long chestnut hair into a ponytail. I put the ballgag back into the footlocker and retrieved a different head harness – one with a thick rubber bit for my pony to chew on. I showed it to her as I approached her from the front. She shook her head negatively but remained silent. Bringing the bit up, I made comforting noises as I gently but insistently pressed it against her lips. She remained silent but her lips parted ever so slightly and within seconds I had the rubber bar in her mouth. I worked the straps and buckles until it was comfortably secure. The bit was not much of a gag but it was a continual reminder of her ponyhood. The painted face in its web of straps and steel rings was becoming more animal-like by the moment and I could tell by her increasing excitement she was really starting to get into it.

Next came a thick, wide leather collar that encircled her neck and the upper part of her chest above her breasts. On top of the breastplate was affixed a large steel ring and to that ring I clipped an 18 inch wide steel spreader bar set with steel rings at either end. She had been standing for quite some time with her hands above her head so now was the time to make her a little more comfortable and take another step in her transformation. I released her left hand from its silken rope restraint and let her shake it out and get some feeling back. She ran her hand over the smooth matte painted skin of her hip and breasts and shook her head, not believing what was happening to her.

While I allowed her this little bit of freedom, I retrieved another item from the locker: a cleverly made stiff leather glove in the shape of a small horse’s hoof complete with horseshoe. As I took her wrist in my hand, I showed her the glove and again her eyes widened in surprise. I closed her hand into a fist and covered it with the hoof glove, buckling it on securely and attaching it to one end of the spreader bar with a snaphook. I did the same with her right hand, leaving her standing with legs tied and spread and her hands – now hooves – in a servile begging posture at shoulder height.

I followed this with a dark brown leather body harness that encircled her flanks, breasts, shoulders, and hips in a web of snug restraint. The only strap I did not fasten was the one that ran from her waist, down between her legs, up the crack of her ass to a buckle on her lower back. Next came thick leather ankle hobbles with black fringing. These were joined by an 18 inch chain which had another chain attached at its middle, going up to her waist belt. This would keep her ankles restrained but prevent her from catching her toes in the chain and possibly falling – I was now responsible for my pony and couldn’t let any harm come to her.

Now freed from the last piece of rope that tethered her to the support pole, my pony/woman stepped around uneasily, getting used to her body’s new state. I clipped a lead line to a ring set in the front of her bit harness and led her slowly down the row of stalls, past the other ponies who stood and watched as another arrived to join them. I led her around and back to the tack room and a wooden horse covered with thick red and blue saddle blankets. Unclipping the spreader bar and ankle chains, I helped her onto the horse such that her arms were stretched in front of her with the spreader bar clipped to the end of the wooden horse; and her legs were splayed over the inverted V of the other end, her ankles clipped to the legs.

“Just a few more things to do to finish your transformation,” I said running my hands over her hair, down her back, and over her hindquarters as I walked to the footlocker. Walking back to her head, I showed her what I had brought.

“Now it’s time for my pony to get her tail,” I said, showing her the flowing black horsehair ponytail. I neglected to show her the fat black butt plug to which the beautiful tail was attached – no need to frighten the pony. Once again at her hind end, I put on some latex gloves and, using a tube of lubricant, liberally greased my fingers and the plug. She tried looking around to see what I was doing but her restraints prevented her from much more than slight movements. She froze, however, at the touch of the cool lubricant as I applied it to her anus. Several minutes and half a tube later, she was ready and I pressed the tip of the plug into her.

“Humans don’t have tails,” I said to her gently, ”so as I give you your tail, you will lose your humanness. You will become my pet, my pony.”

I increased the pressure slowly, adding the rest of the tube of lubricant as I worked the plug in and out, until finally with a soft slurping sound and a grunt from Maggie, it slid in. Removing the gloves, I admired the long, dark tail as it fountained erotically from her butt. I gave it a gentle tug and a wiggle and listened to Maggie’s muffled protestations as it moved inside her rectum. I pulled the last harness strap up between her legs and buckled it to the belt at the base of her spine, it’s special holder locking the ponytail plug in place.

Now for the last piece. From the locker I retrieved a long steel rod with a stylized letter D, my first initial, worked in steel on the end. Once again, I showed it to Maggie who was a bit preoccupied trying to expel the new intruder – she only served to make her tail twitch fetchingly between her buttcheeks.

“See this?” I asked. She nodded weakly. “It’s my brand. I’ve left a bare patch on your butt and I’m going to put my symbol there for all to see that you’re my pony.”

I leaned down to her ear. “And by the way, it’s going to be in permanent ink so you’ll be mine forever.”

I got out an ink pad (which really wasn’t permanent ink but she didn’t need to know that!) and pressed the brand against it, making sure the blue ink covered all the metal. I made sure she was watching as I did this. She shook her head as best she could and moaned objections around the bit gag. I watched as she drooled helplessly, silver strands spilling from her mouth. With that I retreated to her hind end, with its pinto painted buttocks and wiggling tail. I located the bare spot on her right butt cheek and pressed the cold wet brand against the painted white flesh. I rolled it around for a couple seconds, then removed it revealing a perfect letter D.

“There now,” I said, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Her head lay in abject surrender now, saliva dripping to the wooden floor, lost in the realization that she had no control of her body, had even lost possession of it as another being had marked it as his property. Her “hooves” gently paddled the air as she relaxed into her new role – that of my pony.

23.07.10