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Description

Unlike Jean, poor Sheree had no prior involvement with the ponygirl scene. Kidnapped and shipped to a strange land, in the hands of pony slavers, she completely lost it. Losing self-control, discipline had to be imposed on her with the lash.

Sheree’s slobbering attempts to cry out through her bit for help tore at Jean’s heart; but the experienced pony sub knew that only obedience and strength would save them. This was most of the girls' first taste of pony training. The heel spikes on their hoof gear constantly reminded that they must stay on their toes. Any weight on the heel sent a sharp piezoelectric shock into their feet.

The tethers from their helmets to the rotating overhead arms of the hot walker pulled the eight fillies around and around the circular track, until their tiptoe stride was automatic. Next came the hard part – prancing practice. A slick, elastic line was passed, without slack, from one ankle, through their thick labia rings to the other ankle. The line was so short that the trainees could not stand on both feet without painful pussy stretching.

As the machine again pulled them ahead, the fillies soon learned that to minimize pain, they had to slacken the line by lifting the forward leg quickly. As the grueling dance proceeded, the crotch line was gradually shortened, ‘til the girls had to hop briskly, with knees high. However, the hopping gait that lessened their cunt strain made their nipple weights stretch their tits even more cruelly!

At last, their sore legs and pussies throbbing, the captives stood at rest on one leg, chins raised and backs straight, sweat streaming down their trembling bodies. Jean saw Sheree’s buttocks quivering uncontrollably, the smell of sweat, dust and piss bringing back memories of her own early training. Despite the fix they were in, she now knew her friend was strong enough to endure, and possibly one day escape.

Charcoal on vellum

Description

Unlike Jean, poor Sheree had no prior involvement with the ponygirl scene. Kidnapped and shipped to a strange land, in the hands of pony slavers, she completely lost it. Losing self-control, discipline had to be imposed on her with the lash.

Sheree’s slobbering attempts to cry out through her bit for help tore at Jean’s heart; but the experienced pony sub knew that only obedience and strength would save them. This was most of the girls' first taste of pony training. The heel spikes on their hoof gear constantly reminded that they must stay on their toes. Any weight on the heel sent a sharp piezoelectric shock into their feet.

The tethers from their helmets to the rotating overhead arms of the hot walker pulled the eight fillies around and around the circular track, until their tiptoe stride was automatic. Next came the hard part – prancing practice. A slick, elastic line was passed, without slack, from one ankle, through their thick labia rings to the other ankle. The line was so short that the trainees could not stand on both feet without painful pussy stretching.

As the machine again pulled them ahead, the fillies soon learned that to minimize pain, they had to slacken the line by lifting the forward leg quickly. As the grueling dance proceeded, the crotch line was gradually shortened, ‘til the girls had to hop briskly, with knees high. However, the hopping gait that lessened their cunt strain made their nipple weights stretch their tits even more cruelly!

At last, their sore legs and pussies throbbing, the captives stood at rest on one leg, chins raised and backs straight, sweat streaming down their trembling bodies. Jean saw Sheree’s buttocks quivering uncontrollably, the smell of sweat, dust and piss bringing back memories of her own early training. Despite the fix they were in, she now knew her friend was strong enough to endure, and possibly one day escape.

Charcoal on vellum