Confessions of a bootlicker: the pony days

Those who have been paying attention know that these 'confessions' are based loosely on real events. Today is no exception, though today is a bit more 'loosely' than normal. It also (finally) takes care of one of the items on The List.

I hope you enjoy it, and I hope I have more inspiration soon. I missed a few days, and I would rather that be the exception than the rule.

Just say 'Neigh'

                When I was a kid, I went to sleep away camp for about a month at a time. I don’t know why, but most of the counselors there were British. I certainly never complained; I always loved the way they talked, and I loved imitating their accents. I started getting pretty good at it, learning regional dialects and accents of different classes and different parts of the country. But as much as I loved the musical quality and cadence of accents like Cockney, the regal and proper English accent will always have a special place in my heart.

                It will always have that special place because of the lovely and wonderful Shirley, another camper who happened to have blood bluer than the sky, cheek bones that sliced through the air, and a glare that could freeze the air in my lungs. She had that perfect posture of the aristocracy, that ability to look down even on those who were taller than they were.

                I met Shirley by accident, which is to say I met her by saying something incredibly stupid. I was doing my normal socializing thing, randomly talking to people and asking about them. When I saw her, I saw a very pretty, but also very short, girl. I went and asked her name, then started making general inquiries. Harmless things, like which cabin she was in, or how long she’d been coming to camp.

                She told me she was from one of the upper cabins. That’s when it happened. I wasn’t thinking, at least not with my brain. “Aren’t you a little short to be from the upper cabins?” I asked. It was an innocent question, asked with all the ignorance of someone who doesn’t realize that he just said something offensive.

                She grabbed me hard with those frigid eyes. “Aren’t you a bit stupid to be breathing?” she asked. Then she stormed off, and it was only then that I realized what an ass I’d made of myself.

                I was too embarrassed to say anything right then, but I did find her a few days later, and did my best to mumble out an apology. “That’s not how I meant it,” I said. “I just meant that you looked really young.”

                She raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s not much better,” she said.

                “I just—look, I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just making conversation.”

                “Do you always make such ignorant comments?”

                I nodded. “I never know when to stop,” I said. I was hoping for charming.

                “Perhaps it would be best if you had some lessons in etiquette.”

                “Is that an offer?” My mouth often gets me into trouble. Sometimes, it gets me into the best kind of trouble.

                Shirley’s mouth was open, ready to fling another barbed insult my way. But my question threw her off just a bit. She shut her mouth, then smirked at me a bit. “I suppose I could,” she said. “If you were to make it worth my while.”

                “What do you want?” I asked.

                “A pony,” she said.

                I laughed at her. “Would that I could,” I said, trying to sound gallant. “But I left my millions in my other family.”

                That actually got a bit of a chuckle, humorless though it was. “You don’t have to buy me a pony,” she said. “You can just be my pony.”

                “What do you mean? Like, you want to ride me around?”

                She nodded. “That is part of it, yes. But I would generally like to train you. I will teach you what you need to know. Are you willing to carry me around?” Her eyes narrowed like a viper. “Or are you suggesting that I am not only short, but also plump?”

                I held in the laugh at the suggestion. Something told me it would only make things worse. She was tiny, in all senses of the word. Carrying her wouldn’t be hard. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be your pony.”

                She smiled, with a cruelty that I would come to love and to loathe. “Excellent,” she said. “Meet me at the stables tomorrow, immediately following breakfast. Can you do that?”

                I nodded. I’d never been to the stables, but I had the rest of the day to find them. I had no idea, absolutely none, what I was getting into. But something told me I would enjoy it.

                It started innocently enough, I suppose. She took a riding crop down from a hook and led me into a stall of the stables. There was no one else around; at the time, I assumed that they were all just busy. I had no idea who Shirley really was. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

                She used the crop to make me stand up straight, to raise my chin, to make me take my hands out of my pocket. “You must stand tall and proud,” she said, her voice dripping with cold malice. “Do at least try to act like a stallion.”

                I tried standing up straighter. She tapped my cheek lightly with her crop when I looked at her. “Eyes front,” she said. But that was an order I couldn’t follow. I just couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The knee high riding boots, toe curled up just a little bit, the beige pants painted onto her very well muscled legs, the polo shirt tucked in and pulled tight around her body; how could I look away?

                She slapped my cheek a bit harder with the crop. “Eyes front!”

                “Sorry,” I said, turning to face straight ahead and blushing in embarrassment.

                “Sorry?” she said. She stepped in front of me, hands on her hips. Even in the boots, she barely came up to my chest. But still she looked down on me, somehow. “I did not give you permission to speak,” she said. “And were I to do so, you would speak only as a horse speaks. Within these stalls, you are a pony. I thought I’d been clear about that.”

                I opened my mouth to apologize again, and the crop lashed out faster than I could see, leaving me with a stinging chin and a confused mixture of pain and arousal.

                She sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “I knew you were uncouth when we started. Very well, I suppose you’ll need some assistance. Get down on your knees so I can reach your face, pony.”

                I knelt, enjoying the feeling of the soft dirt under my bare knees, not entirely sure why. She stepped out of my field of vision. Then I felt something thrust into my mouth, holding it just a bit open. I felt with my tongue and realized there was a bar in my mouth. A bit.

                She tightened it around my head, then added a collar that forced my head up, so I couldn’t look down even if I wanted to. I felt her strap something around each wrist. She pulled my hands up towards my neck, and I heard a click. I tried to lower my hands while she put some kind of belt around my waist, but they wouldn’t move.

                “Much better,” she said. “Now you look the proper pony.”

                I couldn’t respond, and didn’t know what to say even if I could.

                She stepped around behind me, and then I felt her boot against my side. She pulled down at the belt around my waist, then I felt her other boot. She hugged them against my sides and spoke from above me. “Stand, pony.” She said.

                I lurched to my feet, unsteady and unused to not being able to move my hands to balance myself. She tapped me with the crop to get me to hold still. “Not bad,” she said. “Even still, perhaps I’ll wear the helmet anyway.”

                I had no idea who she was talking to.

                “Come along, pony. Trot around for me.”

                She smacked my ass, hard, with the crop. It left a stinging burn that felt like it would never 

fade. I took a few tentative steps forward, and she swatted me again.

                “Soon, you’ll learn to read the movements of my boots,” she told me. “Then the spurs will be all I need to guide you.” I would have swallowed in fear at the suggestion, but the gag made it almost impossible to swallow at all, let alone to swallow with purpose. “In the meantime, I’ll use the crop to direct you. Come along, we’re going to trot around the stables. I need to see how badly broken you need to be.”

                I didn’t like the sound of that, but I didn’t want to be whipped either. So I did my best to move around the stables, speeding up when she told me to and slowing down when she yanked at the bit in my mouth. After an hour, I was barely able to move, but she was guiding me pretty well. She finally let me back into the stables and dismounted. I fell to my knees almost immediately. Once she unhooked my wrists, I went down onto my hands, my arms shaking from exhaustion.

                “You are in poor shape for a pony,” she said. “So we will have to keep exercising you.” She stepped in front of me; all I could see was her boots. “But there is a fair amount of training you could still use.” She unbuckled my gag and pulled it out of my mouth. I stretched out my jaw and groaned. “Of course, that depends on you. I would say you have paid for your faux pas a few days ago. Wouldn’t you?”

                I nodded, my throat too dry to speak.

                “But I quite enjoyed having you as a pony. And there is more I would like to do. Would that be amenable to you?”

                “Wh-what?”

                “Do you want to continue being my pony?” she asked. “You will be here for at least another three weeks. Seven, if you like. I will even waive your fee.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “My family owns the camp,” she said. “Or hadn’t you guessed? These stables are mine, and we have complete privacy here. I can train you to be a proper pony by the end of the summer. Would you like that?”

                I don’t know why I said it. My mouth gets me into trouble so often. I should have asked what it meant. I should have made sure she was serious. I should have at least thought about it a while.

                Instead, I let myself say something I knew I’d regret. “I would like that,” I said.

                “Excellent,” she said. There was another click below my chin. She stepped back and poured some water into a trough in front of me. “Then we will continue this afternoon.”

                She started to walk away. I moved to get up, but couldn’t move more than about a foot. Something pulled at my neck. “Wait!” I said. “What’s going on?”

                “I’m going to train you, silly boy.” She stood a dozen paces away, hands delicately balanced on her hips. “I will ride you, whip you, beat you, clean you, and train you to be a proper pony. Eventually, I may even give you free reign to move around the stables when I am gone. But for now, until you are properly broken, I can’t just have you running off, can I?”

                I moved towards her again, but the chain around my collar wasn’t budging.

                She laughed. “Don’t worry, pet,” she said. “If you really need to, you can unhook yourself. But if I catch you unhooked, we will be entirely finished. So be a good pet and stay where you are. I’ll be back after lunch. This afternoon, I think I will teach you how to properly care for leather.” As she said it, she stretched her foot towards me and rolled her ankle so I could hear the leather creak. I looked up at her. “For now, drink some water.”

                She laughed and walked away.

 
                I was miserable, but I had no idea how good I had it. It wouldn’t be long before the leather harnesses were all I was allowed to wear. At least that day, I still got to wear clothes.