Midnight - Segment XIV

Douglas the Groom

Having left a note on Douglas’s bedroom door, he greets us at the barn door. I smile to myself... no hesitation for this normally obstinate teen. Last night’s many lessons have indeed piqued prurient interest in our newly acquired beast.

It’s warmer in the mid morning sun, and whereas I was able to work Midnight into a good sweat in the early morning cool, her sudoriferous form now exudes rivulets which stream to her calves and feet. I crop the buttocks with zeal, the thwack of leather on wet skin sure to further impress young Douglas. The cart lurches, attaining top speed. And so I drive Midnight at an unsustainable pace for the final quarter mile, Douglas observing with awe.

Yes, at six foot two, 190 pounds of pure muscle, a yoked Midnight makes an impression with those stretched nipples jutting forth and the elongated labia flopping wildly between rapidly pumping thighs.

I sometimes wish I could both observe and be the flagellant working her into a lather.    

I pull the cart to a stop and direct, the first day of ‘Douglas the groom’s’ training.

“Hobble her, then take the reins,” tossing to Douglas the short ankle strap.

The first step is facile. But then I must explain that the reins must drawn from the cart and back through the eyelets on the plastic yoke, leaving such looped through the ends of the bit and the nose restraint.

I dismount and demonstrate.

“Be very gentle, Douglas, besides the bit pressing her mouth and lips, the nose loop penetrates her sinus cavity, thus applied tension irritates a myriad of nerve endings,” reaching forth to tweak my son’s nose.

“Ow! Dad!”

“Just so you understand. Handling the nose loop... and anything attached to it, offers instant and thorough control over her. You must be appreciative... as appreciative as her.”

Douglas nods, his eyes watering from the untoward pinch of my fingers. Rather brazen of me, but the point is made. Do not thoughtlessly apply suffering. Pain is to be applied for a reason.

“Now take the reins, one in each hand. That’s it, now just a simple tug left then right...”

Douglas complies and for the first time in his life experiences the exhilaration of controlling the subordinate human beast. Remaining attached to the cart, Midnight’s face diligently follows Douglas’s slow draw to the left then back to the right.

I smile with the dismayed look on Midnight’s face, a well trained and experienced pony girl having to respond to the neophyte. Yet she has no choice. And I am willing to bet that a simple splay of those labia and quick diddle of her vagina will reveal the wetness which betrays her true reaction to a controlling hand. It arouses.

“Now draw her into the barn, Douglas. Hold her head high. Always demand good form from a pony girl. Slowly now, remember you’ve hobbled her...”  

Douglas raises his hands.

“Higher, bring her up to her toes. Pony girls look more obeisant on toes. She will be more respectful of your governance... be more obedient... use your power.”

More comical foot work, as on toes, Midnight is forced to prance. Though the way is short, the steps are many, and I note Douglas’s eyes are glued below to where the dark pink flesh of Midnight’s vaginal opening announce her ownership and forced modification.

Into the barn, I show Douglas how to release the prongs from the hip rings. Then, freed of the cart, I direct to the washing table. It’s bath time. And whereas Midnight normally enjoys the deluge of warm water, soapy chamois and my caressing hands, I am sure she will once again find reservation. As opposed to last night when Douglas merely watched, on this morning he will touch... everywhere. Naked pony girls no longer have need for modesty. Yet the humiliation and the concurring concupiscent reaction remain.