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From: connie <conniew@gte.net>
Subject: My Ponygirl Fantasy, pages 1 and 2 of 12
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Subject:
My Ponygirl Fantasy, pages 1 and 2 of 12
Date:
Fri, 13 Mar 1998 21:01:12 -0800
From:
connie <conniew@gte.net>
Newsgroups:
alt.sex.stories.bondage
Ok it starts out slow and I can always use an editor but if you want to
read the rest just E-mail me. I hope that you won't be disappointed.
This is truly my fantasy. I hope you like it. It ends with me as a
ponygirl at Auction.
My Ponygirl Fantasy
Chapter 1
(In The Beginning)
David and I met on one of those Internet news groups. He had a posting
there and it's heading caught my eye, "Groom wanted in So Cal, Pays
Well." I read on to find that if accepted, I could work for him and get
free room and board as well. I dropped an E-mail to him and was promptly
answered. "Let's meet for breakfast at the Denny's in Tustin and please
check out our web page at www._____.com." He then added directions to
the restaurant. I quickly replied my acceptance, even though it meant
leaving the house quite early, to be there on time. I then checked out
his web page. It was great, It told me that the pony training offered
was based on bondage and eroticism. It was for couples that wanted to
play an organized role playing game with an adult theme.
Along the bottom of the introduction page, there were five buttons.
The first was for an "Introductions Gallery," here ponygirls could post
pictures and some facts about themselves. Some also posted fantasy
stories.
The second button was for "Events." With pictures and a calender of
events.
The third button showed "The anatomy of a ponygirl." This gave me an
up-close and personal view of a ponygirl called "Pacific Sundae". I was
later to find out that David started all his ponygirls names with
Pacific. Pacific Sundae's photo spread, started with a front, standing
pose. Her legs were spread shoulder width apart and her hands were
clasped behind her head. An arrow pointed to a brand in her right thigh.
Another pointed to a black mark on the inside of that same thigh and
described it as a tatoo. Another arrow pointed to another tatoo just
above the right ankle. Later pictures would show these tatoos in greater
detail. The first (inside her upper thigh) was her registration number.
The second one (above the ankle) was "Ponygirl" in a stylized font.
Other arrows pointed out other notables. Another picture showed her
upper lip turned up, to show another tatoo of her registration number.
The fourth button was the "Ponygirl Registration Page" (this required a
twenty-five dollars fee).
The last button was the "Owners to Registration Page" (this required a
one hundred dollar fee).
Then, I drifted though the "Ponygirl Registration Page". I (of course)
left the first page blank and pressed the button on the bottom labeled
"Expectations and Training." As I read, I began to get excited and soon,
my heart was racing in overdrive. I shut down the computer and tried to
settle down with a cold shower but it was just the beginning of a
sleepless night of anticipation.
Chapter 2
(Introductions)
Although, it was a two hour drive, I arrived at Denny's early and
ordered an orange juice to sip on, as I browsed the news paper. David
arrived on time and walked straight back to my table. He looked me up
and down for a moment. Before we began the normal (almost ritual)
introductions, he had once been a fighter pilot and I had once been an
aircraft mechanic, so I felt both comfortable and in awe of him right
away.
He soon began telling me what was going on. "I am looking for a groom
for my ponygirls, I've been getting a lot of applications from men that
don't need really need a job but just think that it would be a kick." He
gave me a questioning look, so I swallowed my pride and answered what I
felt was the question. "I need a job," was my reply. "Good, here is how
it goes. On weekends I train ponygirls, that's Friday thru Sunday. You
looked at the web-page, I trust?" he paused for a moment and gave me
another questioning look. I nodded that I did and he continued. "Good,
you see a woman first registers with us on the "Ponygirl Association of
America" web-site. (It is our web-site.) They can either register as a
wild ponygirl or join the stables of an owner. They are then given a
registration number that consists of the date and a letter, such as
010298A. A few have it tattooed as you saw with Pacific Sundae on the
web-page but of course most don't. For most people this is just a fun
way to exercise and seduce their mate. For a few, like Pacific Sundae,
it becomes part of their personal identity."
He gave me a lot more facts and figures. At times, I had to faint
interested in what was a passion for him. Then he got to, "wild
ponygirls are the ones that usually arrange training with me. We pick
them up and we all sign a contract (these contracts have a 48 hour limit
and need to be resigned each session). Then it is back to the house and
we begin training.
We'll need to hang out together a couple of times a week for a few
months, before I actually pick someone for the groom position. These
women are very vulnerable and I need to know that I can trust the person
that I pick completely. Then he will work at my company during the week
to get a little money and his health benefits. The real money though,
and fun of course, comes on the weekends when he works for me directly."
I thought by now it was time for me to try to act intelligent and ask a
question, "so how do you become an owner?" "You can only become an owner
if you have a wild ponygirl willing to be put in your stables." he
answered. "Most owners register their wives or girlfriends as ponygirls
for their own erotic pleasures. The women are usually exhibitionists and
the men go wild with what their women do to turn them on. It adds spice
to their relationships." he told me much more but I didn't catch it. I
was just glad that I had my napkin on my lap. I was trying to formulate
a plan for getting out the door without to much embarrassment. My
hormones were in maximum overdrive. I just knew that if I opened my
mouth, I'd do nothing more than babble and if I was to walk out that I'd
look like a drunken fool.
What I was hearing was the incentive I needed to end a long marriage to
a woman that I'd come to love more as a daughter than a wife.
Months passed with frequent meetings at different nudie bars, and I was
eventually hired for the mail room of his company. Jim ran the mail room
and Mitch, Jeff and I did everything, from moving furniture (to even
acting as security guards as one day a secretary's ex-husband tried to
drag her right out the front door.)
It was only a few weeks later, that I was invited to go with David and
Sara (his roommate) to England for a ponygirl show. David booked us
passage on a cargo ship. It would be a slow cruise in what were
surprisingly comfortable cabins.
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