The Reluctant Racing Pony

story continued on from Hubby's Surprise

...Ken and I missed Maria and were consumed with guilt at her imprisonment, especially since she was the least guilty of all of us. Despite what Maria had told us at first, she decided to keep most of her experiences in jail to herself due to an unwritten code of silence between the inmates. Her hair grew even longer and she gained some weight as well as loosing all of her tan, but other than that prison had been good to her. That was probably due to the special relationship she had with the warden, and I suspect she enjoyed the special services she provided some of the guys as a reward for their good behavior, as well as the consummation of her feminization. The year of incarceration didn't force Ken or I to change our story as the prosecutor had hoped either, and the day we picked her up at the discharge gate was one of my happiest of that year. On the way home Ken and I had a surprise for her and we stopped by our lawyers office to make her name legally "Maria."

It wasn't a surprise that somebody needed to repay the insurance company, but our lawyer warned us if we gave them one dime of "our" money we could fine ourselves in jail for along time. That meant Maria would have to find a job, or several jobs to repay "her" debt to them, and it also meant we had to pay her for her work at our house now as well, ending our free housekeeping. It was easier to find her several housekeeping jobs than to find an insurance company willing to insure her business venture, and she thought "French Maid Services" was the worst kind of cliche'. Cliche' or not she dressed the part, and the professional photos we had done looked sexy as hell on her business cards and sales flyer's. It was easy to tell Maria was different since her time behind bars, she still looked sexy, but now she acted that way as well. Possibly to spite us for our idea of the french maid service she wore only her maid outfits all the time around us when cleaning. Her customers, the first of whom was Ken's boss, couldn't get enough of her flirty cleaning services. Maria was easily turning a profit and busy with her exclusively male customers. I didn't ask what other services she was willing to perform, but is was obvious to me she was at least getting off on all the attention she was getting from her upscale customers.

I had hoped our abnormal normal life would return, but I wasn't surprised when it didn't...

Nick the insurance investigator contacted me weeks later, and he asked me to lunch to discuss something of "mutual importance" to us. I had decided the only prudent thing to do was be very guarded and see what he wanted. I remembered the way he looked at me when we met, and I wore a very business like dress to lunch so as not to stir his interest, although part of me wanted to tease the crap out of him by flashing some skin for the handsome man. He was all smiles with me in the dark restaurant, and he got right to the point once we had placed our orders. He went on to relate every significant detail of our deception with his insurance company as he watched me with those predatory eyes, like a lion watching a wounded gazelle. I was impressed by his knowledge, but didn't let my eyes give away a clue, or so I thought. I told him, with a proud and I am sure smug smile on my face, that his story sounded like a wonderful piece of fiction and if he thought he could prove any of it I would likely be in court and not here.

He paused for a moment, but of most concern to me was his charming and I have to admit sexy smile never faded for an instant. He then passed an old black and white photo to me face down for me to look at, and when I did I almost spit out my drink. I was looking at an old photo of a mostly nude young woman taken around the nineteen twenties dressed like a human pony. She had on a leather mask that made identifying her impossible, complete with blinders and a bit. She had pointy black ears and a leather harness that circled her small breasts, and a lower harness with hard points for actual work that failed to hide her huge bush. Her hoofed long boots and black tail almost drew my attention away from her arms bound behind her back in a mono glove, forcing her small breasts out invitingly... By the time I looked up at my lunch companion my breathing had increased to a short panting, and my panties were getting damp.

I tried to act cool, but failed miserably, and asked him what this was all about. He told me he wanted me to help him promote a new kind of ranch for like minded people, and said he thought I would make an excellent pony girl. I asked him what on earth could ever persuade me to do such a crazy thing, and I was dumbfounded by his answer. He told me he knew more about me than I knew about myself, the first of which was I was bored with my life, especially my sex life, and that I had the habit of doing something wild every three years or so. He said he knew about my Bondage Barbie Deluxe adventures, and my brief movie career, and apparently all of our adventures with hubby/Maria. That meant he must have seen "Uncle Don's" collection, possibly while auditing his insurance policy, and that Uncle Don must have both of my movies making it likely he was the one that commissioned my birthday spanking.

He was more right about me than I would like to admit, and my wet panties were all the proof I needed. My face was hot and flushed and I was excited like I hadn't been in months and hiding it terribly, but still unwilling to promote his ranch. That was until he suggested I could find myself in jail for polygamy, technically having two husbands at the same time. He said I had an entire year to correct my legal situation, and the court would take that into account at my trial. I knew about that, and Ken and I had even went to our lawyer and signed all the proper forms to annul our marriage, but we left them with our lawyer, undated and not acted on.

I just stared at him for several seconds not even blinking, trying to find a way out of this thing that I reluctantly admit, excited me beyond belief. Gone was my smug and foolish smile, replaced with a desire to avoid jail at all costs... When I couldn't find a way out, I lowered my head in defeat and asked him in a whisper what I had to do. His smile was disgusting, and somehow confidently charming all at the same time as he handed over a list of things to do and not to do in preparation for my ponyification.

I would be given a ride to the ranch by one of his people, and I was encouraged to continue my jogging routine three times a week. That was all I needed to know for now, he said, but he wanted something to "seal the deal". It was a command, not a request, he wanted my panties right then. I knew he could have me in jail, but I didn't want him to have my panties as proof of the effect he was having on me either... I realised I had no choice when he stared me down, and I discretely slipped them off and down my bare legs under the cover of the long tablecloth and handed them over. He held them to his face and inhaled deeply of my scent and his predatory smile was back bigger than ever. We finished our lunch and I tried to ignore the cool feeling of my naked sex in the presence a man I both respected and despised, holding my panties in his pocket like my signature on a contract! I had freely given this man a power over me, a power I was sure he would take full advantage of in the near future.

After lunch I walked to my car and I felt like everybody there could not only see I was pantiless, but somehow knew what I just agreed to do. It only got worse when I read the list of do's and dont's I was given, the most inconvenient of which was no sex of any kind until my ponyification. I knew that Ken would be suspicious, and I would be climbing the walls as I need sex even more than he does. I was to pick the best week for me, both work wise and for other reasons in the next six weeks for this thing to start.

* * *

My time off of work didn't go over well, and I would be lucky to have a job to return to when this was all over, but that was nothing compared to the stress between Ken and I. My time without sex had made me into class A bitch and I wondered if that was part of Nick's plans. In any event I found myself in the front of a car going to a ranch that was apparently really not all that far away from where we lived that catered to pony girl fantasies. Maria and Ken thought I was traveling for my job, and my boss thought I was tending to a family emergency. We drove silently on desolate roads and rarely saw another car or truck once away from the major towns, and the ranch's gate was miles from any other once we finally got there. Once inside the gates the serious woman, who wouldn't answer any of my nervous questions, asked one time if I wanted to go through with this. I had no choice that I knew of so I answered "yes". She said, "good from now on you are not to speak a word, and if you do you will be punished". I could tell from her tone she expected me to be punished frequently! All of my personal belongings, including my small bag were locked into the trunk of the car.

The woman was tasked to getting me ready for the photo shoot first, and her job was apparently to roughly prepare me in the rustic barn I was brought into. I had thought her being a woman would have meant she would be kind and gentle, but she was all business with me. She told me to strip, and when I complained she smacked my ass with a crop she quickly picked up from a nearby table. With her crop in her threatening right hand she handed me a pair of thick leather cuffs with her left and told me to put them on, and the welt on my ass through my thin slacks along with the cold stare she gave me convinced me to just shut up and follow orders. Familiar with these kinds of things I put them on quickly, and she clipped the center chain to an overhead chain fall and she left me standing there as she walked to the far wall as I watched.

The serious woman pulled a small chain near the wall and the heavy chain I was attached to started to rise, and I stood there as she effortlessly raised my wrists over my head. She kept going until my arms were stretched tight and I was up on my toes. She surprised me and kept going with a wicked grin on her face and my toes swung free of the floor by about one inch despite my attempt to reach it. I had been suspended before and it brought back all kinds of feelings, but I also knew I could only do this so long. The woman seemed to be waiting for me to say something, and when I didn't she told me to kick off my shoes, and I did. She then walked away from the wall and kicked a small block of wood under my pointed toes where I could reach it and take some weight off of my straining wrists, at the expense of burning my calf muscles.

The serious woman took a huge pair of shears off of the table I was swinging next to and started to cut my clothes off, starting at the right ankle of my thin slacks and working all the way up to my waist band. She could have simply removed my pants in the traditional way, but I realised this was designed to ensure I would never wear them again as a punishment for my backtalk. She cut up the other leg and my expensive slacks fell to the floor in a heap around my straining legs. I knew my blouse wouldn't go over my cuffed and suspended wrists, and she cut up right next to the buttons she could have easily unbuttoned, and through the front strap of my bra rendering it junk in seconds. The short sleeves were next along with my bra straps as both garments fell to the dirty floor, this time behind me right after what was left of my bra lost it's brief struggle to grasp my breasts. The woman surprised me by carefully removing my lacy black panties as I lifted both legs high to help her with her sudden show of compassion, even though the matching bra to that set lay ruined on the floor. My eyes followed my panties, and the last shred of my humanity, as she held them out for the man I dreaded seeing, or more correctly dreaded seeing me. The man who recruited me for this little adventure stepped out of the shadows to take them, and I wondered how long he had been there watching. Somehow being naked and helpless for the serious woman was much easier than having a man, who I suspected lusted for me in my fine clothes and flirtatious manner, circle me in inspection.

The man asked me if I had been instructed to remain silent, or at least to only make pony noises. When I nodded my head he seemed pleased and explained that I wasn't introduced to anybody because to every human at this ranch I was no more than an untrained animal that may or may not have potential. With that he turned and left, but called over his shoulder to remind my handler that "everybody" was waiting! My handler put long cushy socks on me, and then the long hoofed boots with the metal hoof built right in. With the sexy boots laced up I was tall enough to touch the dirt floor, and suspended as I was I was able to get accustomed to their awkward balance. My breasts were surrounded by thick but soft leather straps that forced them up and out like I was wearing an open cupped push up bra. The bridle was next, it had the ears just like the old photo I had seen, but conspicuously absent was the mask part that would keep anyone from recognising me. My long hair was efficiently braided in a ponytail, not that that surprised me, and left to brush my bare back. My handler made some adjustments to my chest harness, and it forced my breasts to jut out and bounce obscenely as I moved.

The lower harness was next and the woman had no problem fitting it to me, and the intimate contact that it entailed. The leather was just as soft as the top, but there were endless rivets that were designed to both stimulate and punish depending on the tension of their contact. The lower harness covered my bare sex and once tightened held me in a delicious but firm embrace. Reins were clipped onto my bridle and some maneuvering had my sore arms free of the chain, but my bridle now on the hook holding my head up and ensuring I couldn't escape even if I had wanted to. The mono glove was placed on my arms behind my back, and attached to my upper harness and laced not nearly as tight as it could be. My posture was still like somebody thrusting out her chest for attention, and I knew all that was left was the tail and the mask to protect my identity. I was half right as my handler clipped a stiff horse hair black tail to my lower harness and lowered the chain so she could grasp my bridle to walk me out into the corral. I knew better than to question my handler, and with the bit in place she probably wouldn't be able to understand me either. She had picked up a buggy whip, a short whip on a long thin handle, so it would be easy to motivate any pony pulling a wagon or cart from the comfort of the drivers seat. I wisely looked, but didn't say a word.

On the walk through the barn, being lead by my bridle and looking more like a human/pony hybrid than a woman, I decided to act the part and try to have some fun with this and make my time at the ranch go by quickly, and as painlessly as possible. However rough my time at the ranch could be, I was certain prison would be worse.

My boots clip clopped and my breasts bounced as I was lead to the door, and as it opened I was blasted with late day sunshine and temporarily blinded as I closed my eyes and trusted my handler to keep me safe. I was lead out into a corral and as we walked forward the sun was blocked by a building's roof and to my horror I saw a group of people apparently intently waiting for my appearance. I was for the most part naked and walked to a machine in the center of the round corral I later found out was called a hot walker. A man took several pictures of me as my reins were attached to the machine's arm overhead, and both of my harnesses were also attached to a second stout arm but behind me. The arm was one of four sets emanating from the center and it was obviously designed to exercise up to four horses at once in an endless circle around the pen I was in.

I had not realised there were blinders on the bridle that held my pony ears and bit until my handler moved them in such a position that I could only see what was directly in front of me. I started to turn my head to see what I was obviously not supposed to and was immediately rewarded with a light smack on my opposite shoulder, I decided to be a quick learner and kept my head straight as she backed away and the machine started. I was pulled forward by my reins and I started walking slowly forward in the pony boots that held my legs as if in high heels up on the balls of my feet. My breasts and pony tail bounced in unison as I concentrated on not tripping on the slow walk around the machine, designed not only to exercise me, but to display me as well. On the second lap around the pen I was smacked lightly behind my thighs with the buggy whip with every step until I understood that my handler wanted me to lift my legs high as if I was prancing. I was worked around the pen for over an hour at an increasing pace until sweat was freely running down my face and down between my heaving breasts until I was allowed to stop.

My ordeal was over for the moment and I was returned to the barn clearly aware that my identity was not safe, and wondering who the well dressed men and women were that were watching me train. I found that everything ached even though I jog three times a week, possibly due to the enforced posture I was made to keep. I was surprised that my handler kindly lead me to a tack room and stripped off everything except my headgear on the cold floor with a drain right in the center. I was to be washed down with warm water, this time I was told, because I was a good pony for her. She washed every inch of my sore body with a sponge and soft brush as my headgear was attached to a line overhead. After I was washed I was lead to a stall that had a bed for me and a proper bathroom with a shower for my convince. I was asked if I was hungry, and fed and watered when I nodded my head, already accustomed to keeping silent. It was human food and not what a real pony would eat, and that was good for me for several reasons. My handler had me lay my exhausted self down and she massaged my sore muscles as I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep

* * *

I awoke to my heavy stall door being locked and someone walking around in the dark barn telling me I had one half hour to get ready. I smelled my breakfast before I saw it, but in my stall with me was a wonderful big breakfast that I devoured in record time before I did my morning routine in the shower. I had no way to tell the time so I found myself waiting at the bars of my stall in naked anticipation of my first full day as a pony girl. My handler brought a man in with her, and even though I was told nothing I could tell he was to be my groom for what I thought was this one of a kind stable. The young man was very cool around my naked self and very business like, just as my female handler was, and I decided he was either used to this kind of thing, or more likely that my approaching middle aged body was not to his liking.

I was harnessed up just like before, only this time the young man did the work and my female handler looked on and only made short comments like " tighter", or "too rough" when the young man nearly had my elbows touching in the mono glove behind my back. Unimpressed or not with my body, his touch as he prepared me had me tingling like the first time Ken took me in front of hubby all those years ago. It was like foreplay with no conclusion though as he lead my frustrated self from the barn and out in the open where a sulky cart was waiting for me. I was harnessed to the cart by my waist harness, but my chest harness was also attached to it and my mono glove behind my back. There were several men up at that early hour to watch me, one of which was the insurance investigator with a big smile on his loathing face. My bit reminded me not to speak and receive a punishment, and at that moment I was grateful for it. Despite the sexual heat I was feeling, I could tell the early morning air was chilly because my nipples were painfully hard, and I wanted whatever was going to happen to this pony to start so I could warm up. Some adjustments were made and the young man got into the light cart and moved himself around so that I felt little of his weight on my hips once he was settled in.

The young man clucked his cheek twice and shook my reins lightly and I walked off toward the open gate as the onlookers seemed amused. We headed down the dirt road that I was driven in on, and I most certainly didn't want to be driven to the main road, desolate or not. The young man stopped the cart about halfway to the road and got out to address me face to face. He told me clearly that it was his job to properly train ponies, but it was his opinion that I was too old to be trained. He told me he would give me the benefit of doubt though because I was obviously in good shape. He didn't say "for my age", but I could tell he wanted to. I decided there and then I would show this guy what I could do, and force him to be impressed with me no matter what!

I realised much later, after I had shown everybody what I could really do, that this young man was wise beyond his years in the skills of motivation!

My groom told me he would allow me to warm up before he pushed me, and allow me to cool down after a workout, but other than that I was his for as long as it took to train me. My heart froze at that comment, I being sure that my commitment was not "open ended" at the ranch. My groom remounted the sulky and clucked his cheek, this time gently pulling my reins left as I turned the cart around in the road and headed back toward the ranch proper. We walked right past the barn and then he clucked his cheek again and shook my reins as a signal to pick up the pace. My smooth walking gait was replaced with a trot that had my breasts flying all around and I was sure the sulky getting bounced around terribly. A firm tug on the reins had me stopped and I was again face to face with my groom as he instructed me with implied threat on how to properly trot with a cart attached. I didn't learn to properly trot with a cart that day, even after several training stops and corrective cracks of the buggy whip! I was watered twice and utterly exhausted by lunch time when my groom decided to put me away for the afternoon after he fed me.

Before he put me away he stripped me of everything except my headgear, and allowed me a moment to relieve myself in private before my intimate warm water wash down. He gave me a stern warning as he did so though, the next time I misbehaved, or performed at any less than 100%, I would get an ice cold wash down! But, he said, if I can learn to properly trot tomorrow I will receive a reward. With my reins clipped high to the roof I couldn't watch what he was doing, but he also washed every square inch of my tired body before he lead me to my stall and massaged me expertly before I passed out.

The morning came and my routine of a full breakfast and then a shower wasn't broken, but my groom had to correct me with a gentle smack of his short crop when I willingly put my arms tightly behind my back in anticipation of the mono glove. He instead fitted me with thick cuffs attached to my waist harness with nylon straps, my left wrist at my left hip and the right one at my right, both with a fair amount of slack. I was lead outside and attached to the sulky cart, this time though my waist harness only guided the long staffs, and my wrists were attached to the stout arms by means of the straps on my cuffs attaching them to the cart. I could and did hold the staffs as well, and it was immediately apparent that this change in tack would allow me to smooth the cart and my gait, and allow me to master trotting with a cart that day. And that was inexplicably the most important thing in the universe to me at that moment.

Several men and some women were watching our exchange intently, and the women in particular were of two groups. One group was enjoying the spectacle of my training, and likely my torment, and the second seemed like they secretly wanted some of what I was getting. One of the first group walked right over to us, blond and sexy as hell, and about the same age as MY groom, clearly invading our space. She stood inches away from MY groom and said sweetly, "Chris honey, you almost forgot these in the freezer"! She gave him a kiss to make sure I knew he was really hers, and waited for something, apparently the same something everybody else was waiting for. My groom, who I just found out had a name, looked annoyed but took the items and thanked her. Chris, in a voice so soft and only meant for me to hear, told me she and some of the others are here to see you cry out in pain and beg for mercy ruining your training. He told me to be a brave pony and not give them the satisfaction!

In his hand were two ice cold chrome nipple clamps of the kind used to bite in deeper when pulled. Fortunately they didn't have any teeth, but both were just out of the freezer and cold as hell. Chris opened one of them and let the open jaws caress my hardening nipple from both the top and bottom until it was fully erect. He then let the clip sink onto my hard nipple, completely painlessly, at least until my hot breast warmed the cold steel. I was not surprised to see my other nipple already erect and waiting the same fate a the first one. ( I discovered a long time ago that I can't have just one hard nipple without effecting the other one instantaneously.) When both of my breasts were clipped, I was presented with two little bells to hang from them, and Chris told me quietly that in this place when you loose something, like the glove, you get something in return. He told me he has excellent hearing, and if he hears either bell I will be corrected with the whip. The women were clearly enjoying my torment, and I am certain they thought that whatever terrible thing I did to deserve this meant I was getting what I had coming. In reflection, they were probably right!

With a cluck of my groom's cheek I was off walking and warming up as he directed me in a new direction away from my temporary home. We walked and I was lightly corrected when either bell jingled, and I am sure the women were disappointed not to be able to watch my humiliation even longer. When I was warmed up, Chris put me through my paces and after some practice, and welts on my back and ass, I was able to hold a good pace and not bounce him all around. It was then that Chris wanted to see what I could do and he shook out the reins and cracked my thighs as I was "encouraged" to run at speed for a full minute... I was allowed to cool down all the way to the barn, and I heard my grooms praise all the way back in, this time later in the afternoon than yesterday.

My wash down was a change in our routine, it was with warm water, but this time my wrists were fastened to the overhead, and my head free of my headgear. I was stretched out like I hadn't been in years, with the exception of earlier in the week, and most of those were good memories. I was soaped up with a soft sponge like every other time, but this time it was sensual and all my zones got special attention. I was given a huge bit of leather to bear down on, the thing filled my mouth completely and buckled behind my head, and rendered me mute. I was confused until my groom moved behind me and rubbed my sore breasts with one soapy hand as the other worked it's way between my spread legs from behind. My body betrayed me by spreading my legs further and thrusting my gagged mouth toward the roof of the barn as his fingers found their mark and my first, long overdue orgasm started rolling in. The gag was to keep our activities secret, and I groaned my approval of his actions and my reward.

* * *

Several decisions were made later that day by the people who were in charge of me, and none of them were to my liking. I knew I was coming up on the halfway point of my pony girl commitment with Nick the insurance man, and even as hard as my groom Chris worked me, I doubted I would be fully trained by the end of my week. I knew they literally took hundreds of pictures of my training and some video as well, but Chris had still alluded to my having to stay at the ranch until I was fully trained, meaning they wanted me to do more than just promote the ranch.

I was woken in the morning as usual, and my routine with getting harnessed and pulling my groom in the cart was almost the same, with the exception of the cold nipple clamps that I apparently no longer needed. I did receive a thick posture collar with metal buttons that pressed on my throat and prevented me from turning my head or looking down, but I saw that as an improvement. I found myself again practicing my trotting in the cool air of the expansive ranch to Chris' praise. On our first lap we ran past the ranch house where the human guests stayed and I saw the tormenting women watching me run with unconcealed amusement, and to my horror standing just past them at the fence were several people I recognised.

My boss was there who I got along with well enough, although we obviously didn't have the kind of relationship that "Uncle Don" and I once had, and in his company was his well dressed executive secretary. She was always dressed like a model and had no love for me, and he did little of importance without her present. Standing next to them but a little behind was Ken and his petite ex-wife Jill, who blamed me for their divorce. Once the shock faded from their faces and mine at seeing me as a nearly naked working human pony, both men looked disappointed, but the women clapped and looked positively elated. I knew I was caught in a lie with the three of them, but the presence of Ken's ex-wife presented more questions. By the look the men gave me I knew I would not only need a new job, but probably a place to live as well. If I were allowed to speak I could at least try to convince Ken I agreed to this to keep both of us out of jail, but I have a feeling he wouldn't have believed me if I did.

It only got worse when Nick the insurance man told the assembled group that they have some business to discuss, and that apparently included Chris my groom. Jill looked me up and down, although mostly up as I towered over her in my pony boots and headgear. Her smile was one of smug satisfaction, like she had just been handed a winning lottery ticket. Jill asked if she needed to attend the negotiations, and when she was told Ken could handle her part, she asked if she could take the cart for a ride. I willed Chris to say no, but he only asked if she had ever rode before, all the while admiring her petite form in her jodhpurs and crisp white shirt. I saw Ken admiring her form as well.

She climbed into the cart, and compared to Chris I hardly knew she was there. The others all stopped to watch the spectacle of Jill driving me, and I felt like doing anything but performing for her, but it was impossible for me to regain any respect from this woman I was once bested in competition for Ken's bed, especially with bare breasts and harnessed to her cart. Jill clucked her cheek just as Chris had done and shook my reins, and I hesitated for a fraction of a second in defiance. She sensed it, as did the others, and she snapped my reins much harder as the thin leather straps bit into my bare shoulders with an intimidating crack as my bit was driven deep... I walked in the direction she intended, and in less than three seconds she had established her eternal dominance over me and had passed an important test of her own with the others in doing so.

Jill drove me easy until I was loose, and then with another shake of my reins I started to trot for her toward the roadway. She was easier to move fluidly than Chris was, and she ran me to the gate and turned me onto the road as I dared not protest her direction. The paved roadway gave my pony boots a nice clip clop sound, and I found the cart easier to move as well. I was terrified somebody would drive by and see me in my nearly naked humiliation, but more so of my petite jockey who had no reason to show me any mercy, and a buggy whip at her disposal. She trotted me down the road for a short way until she gave me the command to run, and I ran as fast as I thought I could with her up off her seat and standing on the foot board of the cart. That was until she cracked the buggy whip near my ears and I had an adrenalin rush, the fight or flight thing, and I ran for my life from petite Jill and the cart that I was attached to...

She slowed me when I finally tired and let me just run after my burst of speed, and then trot as the sweat rolled off of me like never before. I dreaded running down the same road I just ran up, and was happy when Jill directed me to the right through a break in the fence line and away from the road. She didn't know the area, but was in possession of Chris' GPS unit with all the important areas way pointed for mileage and speeds. She walked me to a pond and stopped me at a shade tree and she jumped off the cart and wrapped my reins around it like a hitching post. She stepped to the waters edge and filed her jockeys cap with the cool water and dumped several hat fulls over my overheating body as I struggled for air through my bit filled mouth and nose. What I thought was at first evil was in fact an act of kindness brought on by guilt for having run me so hard, especially on my second outing of the day. She removed my bit, but only by unclasping one side of it so I could drink, and she watered me with her hat after she commanded me to kneel so she could reach my mouth and not choke me, especially with my new posture collar.

Not another word was spoken to me until my bit was put back, and then Jill had nothing but praise for me and my speed, and the skill of my groom Chris. It was a surreal moment, as if the most natural thing in the world was for me to be a pony girl, hitched to a sulky cart and driven to exhaustion by my husbands ex-wife, and praised for my performance. I wasn't just playing at being a pony girl anymore, I was turning into one, slowly, and I did nothing to stop it! Jill said under her breath that, "you could actually place in the local" as she circled me in inspection, putting a small hand to my firm thigh, and the to my calf hidden by the boots I wore. She felt the rest of me in various places and said louder "with the right jockey you could possibly even win the local." I didn't think to speak, so far along was my transformation to a pony girl, but the question was clear on my face, and Jill decided to indulge me and let me know that the others were discussing my fate.

Jill explained to me that it was never intended for me to just promote the ranch, but that their real purpose was the production of racing pony girls for the circuit. She said this as if I should have known this on instinct. She told me that this ranch, the PQ, had not placed in a race in years in the woman's division, one of the most popular pay per view events in the world. She told me there are local, regional, and national divisions, and even an international division. She explained that there are several investors that are negotationing to purchase my training contract as we speak. That means they would pay for a part of my training and receive a proportional part of any purse I may win. The holder of that contract also gets a small portion of the overall ticket window bet that is won. The risk is considerable, but so is the reward, and there are groups that earn a good living investing in ponies.

I wanted to ask her who was selling my contract, but it wouldn't have mattered to me anyway. Possibly all of the people who I saw earlier for all I know. Jill also explained that I might think the fastest way out of my racing career might be to finish dead last, but that I never wanted to do that. The pony girls that didn't win, place, or show could find themselves in a much more aggressive training program, if they had potential. If they didn't, their investors could salvage their contract losses and turn their pony girls into entertainment mares for the pony boys. She told me she has worked with pony boys before and they are nothing but testosterone filled animals that are allowed to blow off their aggressions in a breeding corral with a tethered mare in reward for a good performance. Jill told me it is entertaining to watch, and the pay per view on that is almost as high as the actual racing, especially when there is more than one pony boy in the corral at a time with the mare. She also frankly admitted that a small part of her thought that such a thing would be a fitting punishment for me and fun to watch for all I have done to land myself here, including stealing Ken from her. "The downside to that" she had said, "would be you're such a kinky bitch you would probably get off on it."

It was obvious that Jill was enjoying herself and that she knew me better than I thought, but had our places been reversed I probably would have as well. She did admit that Maria makes a better french maid than she probably made a husband, especially for a woman with my appetite for kink. She told me because Ken's house is in driving distance to the ranch, and seeing how she had offered to drive me in the first races, that she would be living with Ken in my absence and coming in on the weekends to help train me. She said she stayed over last night and ate a fine meal provided by Maria, and then the three of them watched two movies provided by my insurance friend Nick. She asked rhetorically if I would like to guess who was the star of those movies? She told me right after the first one Maria and Ken decided that you would probably like your training, but both seemed hurt that they had to find out about them as they did, and they abandoned any thoughts of rescuing you from your much deserved fate! She told me my boss and his bitch executive secretary are getting them to watch next... When I thought it couldn't get worse she told me Ken had your lawyer file the annulment papers you both signed earlier, breaking Ken's marriage to you and keeping both of you out of jail.

She added sweetly, "at least that should be some good news for you!"

It was as if I were at a club with all of the people who knew me best along with plenty of strangers as I was wearing an ordinary dress, and on the hem of that dress was a loose string that Jill was pulling ostensibly to help me. It was as if I was helpless to stop her from pulling that string until my dress was completely unraveled, and I was left naked on the dance floor to the stranger's whims as my friends abandoned me. Friends I lied to though...

Jill said she had a fun little wager if I would accept it. She said Ken fucked her so hard with his magnificent cock last night, after he broke her in again, that it hurt to walk. I didn't know where this torture was going, but I had a mental picture of tiny Jill on top of Ken in my bed forcing herself down onto him, and it infuriated me that I was powerless to stop it. She said that everybody will be waiting on our return as we have been gone so long, and if I could just tell her to stop fucking Ken she not only would, but she would trade places with me after she striped naked and let me drive her all the way to the barn. She said she would be chained as I was and I could use the whip all the way if I liked. However, she pointed out, If I couldn't I would agree to be the best racing pony I could, and I would do nothing to keep her and Ken apart, or try to enter their lives uninvited ever again. I just knew it was a trick of some kind, but I also knew it would kill her not to keep her word as I could never think of a time she had ever lied to me. I wished I could have said the same! I nodded my pony girl head agreeing to the terms, and she removed my bit as she had done earlier when she watered me after my hard run.

I knew I had to choose my words carefully for maximum effect, and I thought to call her a hundred pound husband stealing slut, but all that came out of my mouth was a whinnying sound as Jill slapped her thighs and laughed at me till she cried. I tried several more disparaging phrases, and to my shock all it sounded like was a pissed off pony. When Jill caught her breath and I stopped trying to speak, she explained that my posture collar had a complex electronic circuit that interrupted any speech I might try to make and instantly inverted the sound waves like sound canceling headphones do. Further, an overlaying neighing or whinnying sound is forced out by my vocal cords and exhaled breath with tiny electrical transmitters directly against my throat. She told me when I wore it long enough I would loose the ability to speak due to it's natural conditioning programs retraining my brain, at least speech with humans, she added with a chuckle. Jill told me in the old days pony boys and pony girls had most of their vocal cord cut so they could only communicate non verbally, and that she thought the collar was a much more humane and noninvasive way to do things. Just as pony girls are no longer branded with their ranchs' mark, but are tattooed instead. So much more modern, she stated. I thought to say bullshit, but all that came out was a neighing sound, and that lead to another laughing fit from Jill.

I couldn't believe she was part of a conspiracy to permanently alter me against my will like this, but more importantly she had help from most everybody that knew me and I felt betrayed. I must have let on how I felt with my eyes, or that Jill was that perceptive, because she asked me if I thought Maria was sympathetic toward my situation. I hung my head, properly chastised, and Jill my jockey climbed into my cart to drive me to the barn. Once there Jill held up my groom's GPS with my new top speed in bold flashing numbers for all to read, and they congratulated HER on her run!

Jill told Ken and the others that her and I had come to an understanding while we were out, and that I would be the best pony girl I could for the ranch. It was technically true, but I tried one last time to get some mercy from Ken and I begged him to listen to me, but all that came out was that stupid whinnying sound. They all laughed, convinced I was playing for them and telling them I was happy.

 

03.11.12

story continues in The Reluctant Racing Pony 2

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