Pony Play

Pony Play

The room was set up like a stable—railings and saddles, bridles, bales of hay, some riding crops, spurs. And a small metal frame that was, according to my notes, a horse crush, a device used to stabilize horses to restrict movement for veterinarian visits and breeding programs.

Yep.

A breeding station.

This crush itself was smaller than a standard-sized horse crush. This wouldn't fit an actual horse, but it would fit a human on all fours role-playing as a horse. It was sturdy and had a padded frame to support the pony's weight and to keep it in place.

I'd seen my fair share of pet play in my time at the club.

Not just horses, but also dogs and cats. More puppy play than anything, and I hadn't seen a pony play scene in a while.

I read the scene outline and was up to date with what was about to take place. What the participants would do, say, and most importantly, what they were not to do.

Membership to this club was exclusive and expensive, and only rarely did anyone overstep. Certainly not on my watch. Thank god.

As the scene began, a woman dressed as a farmhand entered. Faded jeans, riding boots, and a plaid shirt. Her hair was in a messy bun. I recognized her. We didn't have many female staff at the club. She was one of a few and would often work supporting roles in a scene, as I assumed she was in this one.

Considering she was leading in a pony on a lead, it was pretty obvious.

The pony was a man. He was on all fours, wearing a leather pony mask, with pointed ears and a mane down to the nape of his neck. He was fitted with a bridle and two horse-hoof gloves on his hands. His leather pants were split down the ass, and he was fitted with a butt plug, which sported a high horse's tail.

The tail was long, probably real horsehair at a guess. And he swished it as he trotted proudly beside the woman leading him. She walked him around the room, stopping by a bale of hay.

"Good boy," she said, stroking his mane. "Such a good pony."

He nodded his head up and down, whinnying in response.

Then the other door opened, and in walked a straight-backed woman wearing jodhpurs, a dressage jacket, and riding boots. She was stoic, with her nose raised, her hair in a tight bun. She looked expensive.

As did the horse she led in.

And if the other guy was a pony, this man was a stallion.

A man with expensive black leather horse-hoof mitts on his hands. His horse mask was also black with a long mane, and his long shiny tail was part of an intricate leather harness. He wore leather pants clipped with saddle buckles, and his long, thick cock hung heavy.

He was glorious.

He trotted into the stable like the king he was, his head high, his tail swishing. He sniffed the pony, keeping his head high and stomping his hooves, asserting his dominance and his anticipation for what was about to take place.

The smaller pony shied away and neighed. His handler controlled him with the bridle, soothing him with long strokes down his shoulder, just like you would a horse. "Shh, boy. Nice and easy."

The stallion charged at him this time, and the pony shied, struggling against his reins and whinnying loudly.

"Control your pony," the other woman barked.

"He's nervous, is all," the country woman replied.

The stoic woman eyed the pony. "He's small."

"Oh, he's a mighty fine pony," the farmer said. "Perfect breeding stock."

The stallion nosed closer to the pony, braying loudly, and the pony shied away again, neighing.

"If he's skittish, he goes in the crush. No ifs, ands, or buts. I won't have my prized stallion injured."

The farmer nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Then she led the pony around the room, circling him back to walk into the crush. He shied and bucked a little, but she pulled him through and closed the crush gate behind him. Before she could tie off his reins, he banged his side into the frame of the crush.

The stoic woman pointed her riding crop at his hind legs. "Hobble him."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, quickly clipping the cuffs on his hoof mitts to the padded frame so he couldn't move, then fixed a thigh spreader to his hind legs, effectively ensuring he couldn't move.

She then tied his reins to the top of the crush, keeping his head secure.

"Hm," the stoic woman said. "He presents well."

"He's a very fine pony, ma'am."

"My stallion seems to agree," she said, giving the stallion enough reins to sniff the pony and nudge at his ass. "Fix his tail," she ordered.

The farmer woman slowly pulled out the tail, the large butt plug leaving a gaping hole. She poured lube down his crack and over his hole, and the stallion began to nod his head and snort.

He was eager and kept trying to mount the pony, his huge cock swinging between his legs, and the woman lightly tapped her riding crop to his buttock. "Steady on," she demanded.

She paraded him around the breeding station, bringing him up to the rear. She pulled the reins over the crush and he reared up on hind legs, his front hooves on the pony's back, and he inched forward.

The pony brayed and the stallion nipped at his back and he inched forward again. The woman guided her stallion's cockhead into the pony's ass, then taking his reins, she pulled him forward.

All the way.

Jesus.

The pony brayed and whinnied, trembling all over, and the stallion bit the back of the pony's neck, snorting loudly, asserting his dominance. Once the pony stopped struggling, the stallion fucked him hard.

The pony moaned woefully, and the stallion snorted and neighed, rearing up with his hooves on the pony's back as he bred him, his horse cock buried deep.

The stallion snuffled and nodded his head as he backed out of the pony, his wet cock slipping out.

"I think you'll find your pony well-bred," the stock woman said, taking the reins and giving her stallion a pet. But the stallion nodded and brayed again, pulling on his reins. "Oh," the woman said. "On second thought, it seems he wants another turn."

The stallion mounted the pony again, sliding his cock straight back in. The pony cried out, neighing and nodding his head, while the stallion kept his hooves on the pony's back. He bucked and bucked, ramming the pony hard, and when he was balls deep and let out a loud whinny, he bred the pony again.

He snorted, nodding his head up and down, and this time when he slipped out of the pony, his cock was spent.

Breathing hard, the stallion stomped his foot on the ground, signaling he was done.

The pony threw his head back in response, braying softly. His asshole was gaping and leaking come.

Well-bred indeed.

When the stoic woman led the stallion out of the room, the farmer undid her pony's hobbles and untied his reins. "Such a good pony," she said. He neighed and shook out his mane. "Let's get you back to the stable."