Chapter 2
“I want to be one of them, Sebastian,” I said at last.
He raised himself up on one elbow and stared down at me in astonishment. “So that’s why you have been so pensive ever since we left the estate!” he replied at last. “Good God, Mercedes, I had no intention that you actually take part ... no idea that you might be even remotely submissive - especially as a pony girl. I thought you might enjoy the meetings, yes - and you obviously did ... But just think, girl. You would be naked before all those people. Racing almost naked as a human horse! Have you really thought it through?”
I had said almost nothing during our dinner and only picked at my meal, delicious and beautifully presented as only Claridge’s could. Now after a tumultuous session of the most ardent lovemaking we had ever indulged in, it had all become crystal clear.
What I had seen that day was what I wanted for myself.
I thrilled as I thought of myself being stripped by a groom in front of hundreds of people - felt their eyes on my flesh as I wilted under their gaze, all staring at my sex - male as well as female aristocrats staring at me as if I was a real horse being prepared for a race, then harnessed to the little gigs and whipped by the boy-jockey to a spanking pace around the little track.
I smiled up at my lover and mentor. “Yes, Sebastian, I have thought it through very carefully but even if it means I can no longer work at the firm, I still want to be your pony - owned by you and trained by your trainer and grooms - you do have other ponies, don’t you?”
He grinned and shook his head ruefully. “No I don’t, Mercedes. I have thought about it but at the moment I have only Father’s little herd to bet on ...”
I stared at him in awe. “You mean your saintly father actually owns girls - as ponies?”
“Well not actually owns, although the girls think of themselves in that way, but yes, he has two girls who consider themselves as his permanent human ponies.”
I was very excited now. “Where do they train? Do they stay in their own houses and only train weekends? Tell me all about it,” I said, all in a rush.
He grinned again as I stroked the clean-cut muscles of his beautiful chest. “They stay at the castle, Mercedes, but not in it. They are accommodated in a special, secret and out of the way location on the estate - they are housed as ponies - in a real stables that were built by my cousin’s father and now carried on by my cousin, for he has a small stable of ponies, too - you see they all really want to be thought of as ponies all the time. They sleep in real stalls, on straw and they are not allowed to speak, except in an emergency. Their trainer and grooms tend them, work them, exercise and train them just as they would if they were real horses.”
“Good God,” I breathed. “Oh yes, Sebastian. That’s what I want, too! I would never have known it if you hadn’t shown it to me today but it has struck something in me that has now come out so strongly that I don’t even care about my career any more. I just want to be one of them!”
We made love again then - even better this time for I sensed Sebastian, for all his concern that I could be throwing away a career in the law on a whim - and a sexual one at that, was, deep down, just as turned on by my decision as I was.
At last, when it was over and we lay side by side, both gasping from the effort we had put into the passionate love-making, he took my hand in his and suggested I think it over in my dreams and tell him in the morning what I had come up with. I agreed with him and rolled over into his arms, in which position I went to sleep.
I woke up refreshed and happy - and still very pleased with my decision. For all his, I think genuine, attempts to dissuade me, he seemed pleased with it too and he told me he would talk with his father about it that morning.
I was called in to the senior partner’s office within an hour of arriving at the firm. He, courteous as always, offered me a seat but then, after going to the door and locking it, returned to his and sat staring at me.
“You are a very beautiful girl, Mercedes,” he began.
“Thank you, sir.”
“No, I mean it ... You would make a quite beautiful pony ...” I made as if to thank him again but he held up his hand, his face now very serious. “You also have the makings of a very good lawyer and will easily make a partnership in this firm.”
I looked at him carefully. He was tacitly saying all the things Sebastian had said or implied last night, pointing out to me that I couldn’t have both.
“I understand what you are hinting at, sir. As I told Sebastian, if he hadn’t introduced me to the concept I would never have known it even existed, let alone that I had this deep desire to take part in it but I know it is what I want for myself.”
“It seems you may have a deep-seated but incredibly strong latent wish to be dominated, to be a slave, in effect ... to place yourself below all other human beings.”
He was still speaking with the utmost courtesy but his words were cutting - intentionally. “Perhaps I do, sir.”
“Stand up!” he said brusquely. “Take off your clothes - everything! I wish to see you naked!”
I blushed. But I also glowed. His manner - the brusqueness, the peremptory order, the very indecency of it were all sending shockwaves to my brain - shockwaves of shame and humiliation - and glee.
I didn’t even hesitate. I stood up and removed the jacket of my suit then folded it and laid it on the chair while he sat back in his executive chair and watched me critically. I undid the skirt of the suit and removed it, too, also folding it and laying it on top of the jacket. Under the suit I had on a string of (fake) pearls and a silk blouse. Both came off in short order and were folded and placed on the growing pile of my clothes. That left me in shoes and stockings, panties and bra but even at this stage I didn’t pause, removing each shoe in turn followed by the stockings. The shoes I placed under the chair; the stockings I folded and placed on the pile. I reached behind me and undid my bra and put it on top of the rest of my clothes and now stood up before his desk, stark naked except for the tiny silk panties that I loved so much. They were more g-string really than panties and I blushed even harder as I felt his eyes staring straight at my now almost revealed sexual organs.
He looked me up and down, not attempting to hide his salacious interest in my body but then raised his left eyebrow in an unspoken question that I now hesitated to remove the panties. I smiled briefly and nervously, hooked my thumbs into the thin elastic waistband then pushed them down off my hips, adding them at last to the pile of the rest of my clothes on the chair.
“Hands up behind your head. Get your elbows well back and now spread your legs,” he ordered after a few seconds,” he said in that same brusque, staccato manner. And now, again he sat there, looking me up and down critically for a few moments, his fine eyes bright as he looked my naked body up and down.
“And now walk about the office. Raise your knees high with each step. Pretend you are already a human pony.”
I did, the blush getting deeper and deeper by the minute as I performed as he ordered - but thrilled to the very core of my being by the indecency, the shame and humiliation of what he was making me do.
All right, I know he was only ordering me to do it and I could easily have refused, put on my clothes and left his office but I didn’t want to. I was already right into this scene - and he knew it. He was testing me; assessing me as a pony. On the way I reacted to his so indecent suggestions and actions now would rest my whole future. And so I high-stepped it round and round the front part of his office while he stood up and came round the desk to stand and watch me.
Part of my shame came from the knowledge that on the other side of that door was a whole office full of lawyers, secretaries, paralegals and other employees, all going about the business of a busy law practice while I was here, in the senior partner’s office, stark naked and performing as a potential ponygirl. It was heady stuff but I knew it was what I wanted - what I had unconsciously wanted all my life.
“All right. You may stand still now. Here, in front of me.”
I did and now stood only feet from him as his eyes continued to rake up and down my body. “You have a highly athletic body, Mercedes,” he observed.
“Thank you, sir. Squash and athletics,” I added by way of explanation.
“I see. And if we accepted you as a pony girl, what level of commitment would you wish to apply to this activity?”
I looked at him in puzzlement for a moment. He smiled. “I mean would you wish it to be just a few hours a week as a pony, or something more?”
“Oh I was hoping for a total - and permanent - commitment to it, sir.”
“So you would be prepared to give up the law entirely and become a real pony girl to my son?”
“Yes, sir. Exactly that, if I was acceptable.”
“Oh you’re acceptable, all right. The thing is, girl, we, that is my family and I don’t indulge in forced slavery, unlike some others ... If you came to Sebastian as a permanent pony it must be with your full consent, knowing exactly what is involved. There is also the question of your law degree and your future with this firm. You have the makings of a very good lawyer and I would be sorry to see you depart from that stream and from this firm. On the other hand, watching you compete as a near-naked human pony would be a distinct thrill and I know my wife will also be delighted to hear of your decision - if indeed it comes to that.”
He paused a moment and then reached out to cup my right breast. “Does this embarrass you, girl?”
I smiled slightly, blushed a lot and nodded. “Yes it does, sir, but I love the shame ...”
“Perhaps you are a born slave. Perhaps this is exactly what you want ...”
“Oh I know it is, sir. I can feel it inside me. I want so much to join your other ponies and learn to be the best one there is. I will work very hard!”
“I know you will.” Again he paused, looked at me speculatively for a few moments then went on, “You understand that once in the stables, you will, to all intents and purposes, cease to be a human being. You will be treated as an animal in all things. You will be disciplined - physically disciplined - with whip and cane when you misbehave or fail to work your hardest?”
“Yes, sir. I understand that.”
“All right. But let’s not jump in head first. Let’s say you take a week’s leave. Sebastian will take you, right here and now out to the castle. I will telephone my cousin and inform him you are joining his little troupe of human ponies on a trial basis. Let’s see how you go after a week, eh?”
“Oh, thank you, sir ... shall I dress now?”
“No. in fact, I will remove these clothes now, put them away for safe keeping. You will not be needing them again, until next Monday anyway, and perhaps not again - ever ...”
He gathered up my clothes and shoes and took them into the small bathroom off his office while I watched him with some trepidation. Was I burning my bridges, I wondered. He came back, went to his desk and called Sebastian, asking him to step into his office. He moved over to the door to admit my so handsome lover who smiled at me as he entered the just open door and closed it behind him although he didn’t lock it now.
“She may be just right, Sebastian,’ his father said. “I will telephone Milford to ask his permission for her to join our little stable but there won’t be any objection, I feel sure. Bag her and take her now.”
I stared from one to the other of them, excited as all hell at this little exchange - up till the last statement, anyway ... Bag me? What did that mean? I was to find out in short order. Sebastian grinned at me as if to say, ‘well, you asked for this’ and then went into his father’s bathroom, off which there was a small bedroom. He emerged from this holding a large hessian sack which he now draped over my body then pushed me down onto my bottom so he could tie the neck of the bag.
“Just hang loose, Mercedes,” he said, “and don’t for God’s sake say a word until I get you out.”
He then hoisted me up onto his shoulder and took me out of the office, presumably by the private entrance to his father’s little suite, then into the service corridor and down the goods lift at the back of the building into the car park.
He sat me in the passenger seat and then undid the bag and stripped it up and off my body, leaving me stark naked in the front passenger seat of his Jag. I was about to protest but he held his finger up to his lips and closed the door, placing the bag in the boot and then hopped in beside me.
“You wanted to be a pony, Mercedes. Ponies aren’t allowed clothes - not permanent ponies, anyway.”
“But we are shortly going to be coming out into the London streets,” I said.
“Yes, and people will look down and see you naked ... Humiliating, isn’t it?” he said, grinning broadly as he backed the big car out of his spot and drove out of the building car park.
It was as I had expected. Most people didn’t see me of course but when the car stopped at lights, those in the cars to my left, if they glanced at me, could see my upper body was bare. Few noticed this included my breasts or lower but of course I thought they did. The windows were slightly tinted and this added to the indistinct view they got of me but to me - and that was what was important here - I thought they could see me in all my naked glory and my shame stayed with me until we were right out of London and headed down to the castle.
Once there, Milford, was there to greet us. He had come down to the secret stables and human pony training track to see Sebastian’s first acquisition as a pony and as I got out of the car, still stark naked of course, he looked me up and down appreciatively.
“You’ve chosen very well, Sebastian,” he said smiling lightly down at me.
“Actually I didn’t choose her, Milford. She chose me ... I took her to the meeting yesterday and she knew straight away this was what she wanted for herself.”
“She did, eh, well she’s certainly excellent horseflesh. May I?”
Sebastian nodded and smiled. “Of course. But make it a very thorough inspection, will you?”
His cousin grinned. “Naturally.”
Thorough wasn’t the word. Milford, seventh Viscount de Veere, was a connoisseur of both equine and human horseflesh. Unlike many of today’s hereditary peers, he was still the master of a vast estate that included not only lands: farms and villages, but also interests in the City. He was an excellent businessman but his abiding passion was horses - of both kinds and while he never trained and raced unwilling girls and boys, those he did have in his stables were trained very hard - and had to accept his rigorous discipline if they wished to remain a part of the scene. Of course they could go at any time they wished. He abhorred the compulsion that I later found existed in some areas of the sport and he was eminently fair in the way he treated us.
As long as we performed to the best of our abilities, we were rewarded with little luxuries, but if we didn’t give our all to our training, then we suffered - and boy did we suffer!
Right now he was going to inspect my naked body - and in as salacious, indecent and intrusive manner as he could devise. He well knew that in every single one of us ponies, male or female, the shame we got from being naked - permanently so; of being treated as animals all the time; of being fed mush (a very healthy mush but mush nonetheless); and trained far harder than any Olympic athlete, was the major part of our delight in our submission as ponies and now he treated me to an introduction to this life.
The car was parked in the yard inside the high wall that surrounded the human pony stables. Behind me was the building where, presumably, we were housed. Just down the way was the track and there I could see young men and women harnessed to the gigs and either trotting or galloping round and round. They were all as naked as I was except that they were harnessed of course - and they had all been depilated. Their sex was quite naked of hair whereas mine was still in the trimmed but still hairy state...
And now, in full view of Sebastian as well as the trainers, grooms and other ponies, the seventh Viscount de Veere ran his hands all over my flesh. “Position, Mercedes,” Sebastian said quietly and, guessing this meant the position his father had required of me back in his office, I assumed that one now, spreading my legs and clasping my hands up behind my head while pulling my elbows as far back as I could get them knowing full well that this exposed my breasts even more.
The viscount nodded in approval. “She shows much promise, Sebastian,” he said, smiling down at me as his hands began to rove all over my flesh. I think he was genuinely assessing my muscles and their tone but he also made it very indecent as well, feeling and fondling my breasts - which had nothing to do with my ability to run, stroking my bottom cheeks - as well as in between them and even delving in to poke at my anus after making me bend over and spread my legs even wider apart; then ordering me to stand up again so he could now inspect my vagina - which he did for ages.
I glanced at Sebastian from time to time but he just smiled blandly at me, as if having his girlfriend’s body so indecently inspected, as if she was an animal, was the most normal thing in the world - and I gloried in it - while blushing furiously, of course. It sounds odd but it was that shame and humiliation that I craved so much ... we all did. Hell, if we didn’t, we wouldn’t have been there.
“All right,” said Milford, “let’s get her into the stables. I’ll be interested in seeing her hosed down, shaved, ringed and put into her stall, then I want you to come up to the castle. I’ve got some new coins I want to show you.”
He led me in through the big double doors of the building and now I saw that the left side of the building was devoted to the open-fronted stalls for us ponies, the males on one side and the girls on the other, as well as the proper rooms for the grooms and trainers who lived with us, while the other side was devoted to tackle and harness rooms, clinic and an indoor training area including a well-equipped gymnasium.
First, I was to be bathed. I was taken to a concrete ablution area that was really just a huge open shower recess - without the shower heads. I assumed we were all cleaned together from the size of the area. I was pushed into this and then one of the grooms took up a large hose and played it all over my body for a minute or so. The water was freezing and I danced around under its blast and shivered heavily even after he turned it off and handed me in a cake of plain soap to wash myself with. After I was properly cleaned - watched by Sebastian and his cousin, the boy blasted me with the icy water once more and then rubbed me down with a rag. This was not a towel. It really was a rag and as I stood there on the cold concrete, the boy, being scrupulously proper, rubbed all the moisture from my body and then combed my hair.
Now I was ready to be shaved and ringed.
I had never thought of myself as a masochist - that is a lover of pain and neither Sebastian nor any of my former boyfriends had ever engaged in such a thing with me, but the implication was that they were going to put a ring somewhere on my body. I had had my ears pierced and knew that was slightly painful. This, I guessed, would be far worse, no matter where they ringed me. Where would it be? My nose, perhaps?
No it wasn’t. I was taken to the small room they used as a vet’s clinic (the vet they used was a real doctor who was in on the human pony scene) and there ordered into the gynaecological chair they used to examine us. My wrists and ankles were secured and then the head trainer, a man named Arthur Scott who had been a personal trainer as well as an athletics coach of some distinction, came in and prepared me for the coming piercing.
First he shaved my genital area. Totally and carefully until I was as smooth and naked down there as the rest of my body but then, to my consternation, he swabbed down the same area with alcohol - which hurt like hell, then, after teasing it until it emerged from its little hood, grasped my clit and then, using the large needle he had hidden in his other hand, simply pushed it through the organ while I screamed in pain and attempted to push up off the table. Only Sebastian on one side and his cousin on the other, both pushing down on my belly kept me in place as the trainer performed his horrible little operation.
He swabbed the area down again while I screamed afresh at the renewed and so fiery agony and then took out the ring from its antiseptic plastic bag. This was a hinged device with a permanent lock on it. It was quite thick - I would say a couple of millimetres - and the ring, when closed, would have been about two inches across. He pushed the open end of this through the hole he had just made and then snapped it closed, again dowsing the whole area with more of the fiery spirit.
The locks were then undone and I was helped up off the table and taken down to my stall. These were each filled with straw - and nothing else. They had a water trough near the front, kept filled automatically, and on the back wall was a huge ring dangling about three feet up from the floor. Attached to this was a chain of medium weight that was about six feet long. The trainer now locked this onto my new clit ring and all three of them now stood in the passageway staring in at me as I stood there, naked, a human pony at last, in my own stall...
Sebastian smiled at me, waved - and then all three of them turned and left me alone to contemplate my immediate future. I surmised that with the wound in my vagina so new, they wouldn’t be training me today but I was looking forward to meeting my companions.
Alas, I had forgotten we were all now ponies. Speech between us was forbidden and would be rewarded by painful punishment - a dose of the cane as a minimum and the whip for repeated offences. If they really wanted to punish us, we were hung up by our ankles with our legs stretched very wide apart for a day and then in the evening, our rumps were paddled - hard - with a wooden bat.
I sat down on the straw, very carefully, for the wound in my clit was still sending shock waves through my brain and wondered if I was still as enamoured of my new life as I had been when I woke up this morning.
The answer to that was yes! A resounding yes! Perhaps even more so. I just said the wound in my clit was sending shock waves through and through me and that was true - but I now found that I gloried in this pain as much as I had from the shame and humiliation of being driven naked through the streets of London. I touched the ring and the pain was multiplied. I gloried in it even more. I actually tugged at it and it now sent electric barbs of pure fire through me.
Yes! I screamed (silently, to myself). This was what I wanted - what I needed. I wanted them to harness me right there and then and take me out, whipping me to faster and faster gallops around the track. They didn’t, but I really wanted them to.
All afternoon I sat or lay there, now learning that I was no longer the master of my own destiny or even of my immediate actions. I was an animal under training and I had to do what they wanted me to. No more; no less.
I didn’t see Sebastian again that day, or indeed, not for the whole week. His father had told him to leave me there to be trained and assessed under real human pony conditions and I was.
Later in the afternoon, the other girls and their male counterparts trudged in, worn our after a hard day’s training and I stared at them with great interest. All were young, perhaps eighteen to late twenties, I thought and their bodies were everything I had ever dreamed of for my own physique. I am athletic rather than voluptuous and I preferred this in a female contrary to what most other people prefer in a woman. But the boys were something else. I was, of course, more interested in them as sexual objects and every one of them was the absolute epitome of everything I found attractive in a human male, even if these human males were now ponies ...
They were athletic to a tee. Not an ounce of fat anywhere on their bodies. But they all also had beautifully soft and blemish-free skin. The whites amongst them all had light tans that made them look even better while the two blacks (one each male and female) gleamed wonderfully. All were handsome or attractive in face, too - as I said, perfect human beings, all of them.
Oh how I wanted to greet them; tell them who I was and exchange stories with them but all they were allowed was a neigh of greeting to me - which I could return. If a pony was caught talking to another (and they had highly sophisticated listening devices to catch us out for Lord de Veere was very serious about his human pony training) we were placed in a horrible muzzle - a bridle really with a real metal bit that was pulled right to the back of our mouths so we couldn’t talk. Mr Scott had come back during the afternoon and placed one of these on me. “Just to show what awaits you if you break the rule and actually speak, Mercedes,” he explained.
“And even if it is inadvertent - if you forget, even on your first day, this will be your minimum punishment. If I think you did it deliberately, you may be in for ten strokes of the cane to your rear - as well as the bridle; and a repeat offence may well have you hanging upside down all night and the next day with the threat of a paddling the next evening, so be warned.”
He left the muzzle on for an hour and I was never so grateful for anything as when he took it off. I hadn’t seen bridles used at the race meeting and wondered why they had so many here but it was only a passing thought as I tried to cope with the horrible bit in my mouth, and the tongue-guard pressing down on my tongue and making me salivate unpleasantly. But through the distress I felt again that same thrill of shame that so turned me on.
We were now fed. I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and now discovered lunch for me was a thing of the past. We had two meals a day. A mush of cereal and milk in the morning followed by fruit and another mush made up of a proper mix of cooked meat, raw vegetables and nuts, all pureed into the horrible-looking but quite tasty mush, followed by more fruit. It was given to us in dog bowls and we had to get down on hands and knees and lap it up from the bowl. Any attempt to use our hands to assist in feeding met with a dose of the cane - and remember ten strokes was the minimum for any offence.
After feeding, the lights were dimmed and we were required to sleep. I wanted to whisper a goodnight to my neighbour but I didn’t and I was glad I had for when I saw a boy punished for speaking unnecessarily during training a couple of days later, I realised how dreadful a punishment ten strokes of the cane to the naked buttocks really was.
In the past, when a schoolmaster caned a boy or girl, it was administered over trousers (or skirt) and underwear and the maximum number was six strokes. Our usual minimum was ten strokes - on the bare skin and the way the boy jumped around during and after it, I knew it must be an awful punishment. And yet I was wet throughout it. I felt a dreadful shame that I was excited by watching another human being punished but I couldn’t help it.
The next day, Tuesday, I joined the rest of them in their training ...