The New Foal (Pony girl mother and daughter)

[EddieDavidson]

Synopsis: Ellie begs her mom to teach her to become a foal (new pony girl) after years of watching her mother practice around the house with her father. Her little brother becomes her groom, as they prepare for a trip to Camp Crucible and pony competitions. This is a collaboration between Mike McGifford and Eddie Davidson.
Sex Contents: Some Sex
Genre: Coming of Age
Tags: Ma/Fa, Teenagers, Consensual, Teen Siren, Incest, Mother, Son, Brother, Sister, Daughter, Grand Parent, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Humiliation, Light Bond, Spanking, PonyGirl, Gang Bang, Interracial, Hispanic Female, Enema, Exhibitionism, Facial, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Squirting, Tit-Fucking, Water Sports, Illustrated

This one is going to be a little different. I am working on it currently, so it will be slower to post.

[EddieDavidson]

“The first thing I need you to do, Jeff, is help your sister onto the rig. You’ve seen me get into position enough times that you know how it works. It’s harder to do than you thought, isn’t it, Ellie?” I laughed when my daughter wobbled on her hoof heels as she tentatively backed up.

Ellie nodded once, careful to maintain her balance with her arms bound behind her and the mask in place, effectively blinding her. She was taking this very seriously and trying to keep her shoulders straight and her chin up like I taught her.

However, she was a long way from good form or even perfect form. She didn’t stick her tits out and clench her ass cheeks. She didn’t smile with her eyes, and she lacked confidence. I tried to reassure my daughter that she would get better over time.

I also wanted my son to know that he was doing a good job as her groom. I was reluctant to show him how to put Ellie through her paces, but they had both brought this idea to me and seemed so enthusiastic that I thought I would satisfy their curiosity and be done hours ago.

“Good boy, Jeff. I’m glad to see you’re not worried about touching her. That’s important because her senses are limited right now, and she’s orienting herself with the cool metal of the frame and your hands. Yes, nudge her thighs apart like you’ve seen your father do to me. Further apart, Ellie. I want to see pink! You’ll feel your shoes slip into the grooves on the foot pads when you have it right.”

Ellie snorted in consternation, likely feeling as though her thighs were already a mile wide. I know because that’s how I felt the first few times Peter introduced me to the posture frame, or ‘rig,’ as he calls it.

Of course, my daughter isn’t allowed to speak with the bit in her mouth, and she’d already mastered that lesson. Snorts and whinnies only while she is in training.

She’s a bit of a chatty Cathy ordinarily. I was certain it was driving her crazy to only be able to communicate in an animalistic fashion. It’s a little dehumanizing, and that is by intention. Ponygirls are supposed to serve instead of talking.

This wasn’t real training, of course. Pony girls don’t train pony girls, although Ellie had begged to be allowed to experience what she’d seen me do for a number of years, and now that Jeff had expressed interest in being a groom, there really wasn’t a good reason not to have a little family bonding opportunity while Peter was out of town.

There was no point in hiding that my husband and I shared an interest in ponygirl training. My parents did as well. The kids had grown up knowing that. I had made no secret of the awards that I’ve won over the years, and there were even a few portraits of me in my pony regalia in the privacy of my bedroom.

There was no point in forbidding them to do it, either. The best way to motivate a teenager to do something is to tell them they can’t do it. I felt like I could show them safely how to engage in the very basics. There was nothing really sexual about any of this.

Ellie’s breasts and pussy were exposed, but ponygirl training was never really about sex. Sexuality is a byproduct of pony play. I saw nothing wrong in guiding them safely as long as they were interested in satisfying their curiosity. I had no desire to turn my daughter into a new foal. I was simply showing her and Jeff the basics so that she could have a conversation with her father about it if she wanted to take it any farther.

The regalia was just sitting in the closet gathering dust, and I had the free time. I have to admit it was kind of fun to show them because it was all new to them. However, I’d rather have been in the harness myself.

I wasn’t prepared to use some of the more advanced toys and tools on my daughter, especially the butt plug. I saw no harm in the small clips that are attached to the labia to pull the pussy lips open and apart slightly when a girl is harnessed.

“Okay, Jeff, we’ll leave the plug out, but I want you to use the labial clips before Ellie puts her feet together again. Just one on either side, for starters. I only want to give your sister a feel for them. No, a little lower. Yes, that’s it. Same with the other side.”

“Her lips are really slippery, mom. I can’t get a good grip. Even though they are thicker and meatier than yours, they are much smaller, and I need to pinch them more than Dad does with yours,” Jeff volunteered. Ellie’s were certainly more compact than mine, and she was clearly lubricating. A lot.

I wasn’t sure if her little brother understood fully WHY my daughter’s lips were “slippery”. The way that he announced that she was wet made me think that he thought her pussy was disgusting like a snail’s belly. I assumed he was old enough to know that girls got wet now that he was starting high school.

“That’s okay. You’ve got this,” I assured them both as Ellie grunted her reaction to her brother being a little rougher with her nether lips than she’d expected. “Once you’ve got them both clipped, turn the ratchet. Two turns. Remember, do it slowly. There’s no hurry or need to prove you’re an expert. You’re not. All rushing will do is induce unwanted anxiety in your sister. This is as much a demonstration for you as it is for her, okay?”

Ellie’s pussy lips spread like butterfly wings as Jeff turned the crank. My daughter has a pretty pussy, seemingly made for being spread like she was. I would have loved to have a pretty little pussy like hers.

I noted that Ellie had groomed herself very well but hadn’t shaved off all of her pubic hair. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel knowing that most ponies are completely hairless. I assumed she was proud of the little tuft of hair she had growing above her pussy, because she had cultivated a perfect landing strip.

“Run your fingers through her slit. Get her clit good and extended. That’s it,” I praised my son.

“Can I use the clit clamp?” he asked hopefully when he recognized her clit poking out of its sheath.

“No, not today. This is only a demonstration. I probably shouldn’t have had you even connect the labia clamps, but I wanted you two to get comfortable with such intimate contact. If you’re really set on being a groom, you need to be experienced with a wide variety of cunts, and Ellie needs to get used to feeling others manipulating hers when she can’t see what’s happening. How are you doing, Ellie? Too much?”

“Moooom. I’ve seen Dad do this a million times. I want to do the full prep. The plug and all the clamps, too!” Jeff complained, ignoring his sister’s response. He wanted to stick something up his sister’s butt. I wasn’t sure Ellie was comfortable with that.

At the same time as Jeff was whining, Ellie shook her head and whinnied. Just like me, needing to be manipulated by a groom was a side benefit of the rig. She was enjoying herself, but it was impossible to tell if she was protesting or agreeing with her little brother.

“This isn’t just about what you want, Jeff. Do you want to put your sister off training to be a ponygirl by pushing her too far, too fast? It’s as much a lesson in restraint for you as it is a lesson in being restrained for Ellie.”

“I guess, but that’s why I wanted to work with you,” Jeff replied. “I’d like to put YOU in a rig.”

I chuckled. “You have to trot before you can run,” I assured my son that he had a long way to go before that would happen. “Focus on doing this. Once I’m satisfied you’ve got all the steps down cold and can work the emergency releases, then I’ll ask your father if you can put me in the rig. Not before,” I was firm on that, which was easy considering Peter had already made the demonstration limitations clear.

I had been placed in a rig by total strangers acting as my groom at pony events. I’d never considered allowing my son to be that familiar with my body before. I wasn’t opposed to it, but he had to know what he was doing first. I certainly wasn’t going to volunteer for that on his first day.

Jeff didn’t say anything. He continued to pout.

“Your father has been very generous in allowing this at all in his absence. Do you want to pack it in for the day?”

“No! I just want you to see that I already know what to do!” Jeff said in resignation.

“I’m sure you do, Jeff, but we’re doing it my way today. Now, slide the bar in between her arms and back and lock it in place. Ellie’s about as tall as me, but you’ll probably have to use position 4 instead of 8 like your father does with me.”

“Yeah, she’s a little dumpling, isn’t she?” Jeff snickered and alluded to the fact that his sister had a little baby weight on her thighs.

“Jeffrey Thompson! We do not have body shame in this family! Your sister just turned 18, which is really the only reason your father is permitting her to experiment like this. She’s been growing out, not up. How would you feel if Ellie called you scrawny?” I asked. Ellie had sprouted big tits and a big butt, but she wasn’t going to get any taller. Jeff was tall but skinny.



“I meant it in a cute way, Mom,” Jeff backpedaled. “My friends all think so!”

“Sure you did, Jeff,” I replied, deciding to let it go this time. I’d seen a couple of his friends practically drooling over her when they were visiting. I had to show him how to put my daughter into position four because Jeff obviously didn’t know what it meant.

Ellie may have just graduated from high school, but her breasts were already the same size as mine, and her butt was certainly a lovely round peach. She didn’t have washboard abs, although I suspected that within the next six months to a year, the last of her baby fat would be completely gone. I considered her adorable, especially with her strong Latino features and long raven hair down past her butt crack.

Jeff, on the other hand, takes after his father. Slim, bright red curly hair, and already 5’11”. Jeff isn’t even 15 yet. If it wasn’t for his lack of a tan and unfortunate acne issues, he’d be a truly stunning example of a future heartbreaker. We just about have the acne controlled, but he really cannot tan due to his Scottish ancestry. We never spoke about that. His lack of olive pigmentation is a sore spot for him.

“Just lift her right leg slightly, bend the knee, very demure, pussy lips should be slightly spread, tits out, chin up,” I helped him adjust Ellie using the tip of a riding crop to guide her. Position eight was a little more ‘exposed’ with all holes visible and the legs much more spread.

Once I was satisfied that Ellie was in a properly posed position, I continued with the demonstration.

“Okay, the bar is in place and latched? Go on and connect her collar next. You’ll need to move Ellie’s ponytail out of the way so you don’t pinch it. Good. Ellie, can you nod your head?”

Ellie did her best to nod, but the posture collar didn’t allow much leeway, and with the back of it now clipped to the rig, her head was practically immobilized. She was rigid and looked very tense. That was good – it was supposed to be an exercise in tension and holding herself in position. It took a great deal of practice and endurance to stand properly like a show pony for hours.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” I sought and received affirmation that Ellie wasn’t in distress despite being almost completely immobilized. I knew I wasn’t cut out to be a trainer or a groom, but I knew enough to be aware of her mental as well as physical well-being while we trained.

“Okay, bring your feet together now. You’ll feel your labia stretch, but that’s okay. It’s supposed to pull.”

Ellie nickered in a very horse-like way as the clamps holding her labia apart stretched when she brought her legs back together.

I remember thinking there was something wrong the first time I experienced the sensation. I had expected the tension on my labia to relax when I first used the rig, but the way the cables connected to Ellie’s cunt and the rig worked was to cause her outer lips to stretch further, focusing her attention on that small part of her anatomy.

I hadn’t even let Jeff plug her cunt and ass. I’d let her discover that little treat next time if there was one. This episode may have satiated her curiosity and would be the last I heard of it. Ellie was too proud to bail in the middle of the session, especially since it was suggested.

She might be feeling humiliated or exhausted and I didn’t want to push her too hard on her first session.

I paused for a moment. The next step was usually to clamp the nipples, but I wasn’t sure about that. This was only a demonstration. I wasn’t about to leave Ellie in the rig, doing knee lifts for the next hour like I’d do so she didn’t really need the nipple bells to ring with each lift, but on the other hand, feeling the pressure on her nipples would be a good experience.

“Alright, Jeff,” I decided on the spot, “I know you’ve been dying to clamp her nipples. But since this is her first time, she has a lot of her the nubs of her nipples under the clamps, too. Your sister’s nips aren’t as big as mine and rigid as mine, and I don’t want you to damage them. They are still developing.”

“You mean they’re gonna get bigger? Damn!” Jeff said, already lifting her breast, trying to close the gap between her right nipple and the dangling clamp.

“That’ll never work, Jeff,” I said with a little giggle. “I’m about six inches taller than her. You’ll have to drop the support boom a little. We’re not trying to torture Ellie!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, sis,” Jeff said, letting her breast go and scooting around the rig to the other side, where he dropped the boom, holding the clamps a few inches. “Will that do?”

I was satisfied and directed him to attach clips to her labia. They were designed to hang small lead weights between the thighs. These “knockers” clack back and forth while we march and hold our pussy lips apart. A few trainers have knockers with little spiked edges to add a little pain to every step. I just wanted Ellie to feel the stretching and not the full weight today.

“A little more. There, perfect. Now clamp it back and try again,” I observed my daughter’s puffy lips as the clips bit into them and watched as her juices ran down her thighs. Jeff may not have any idea of what that gooey substance was but I certainly did.

I had eaten a lot of pussy in my life, but never thought about my own daughter’s vagina in a sexual way. It certainly looked edible and inviting! I felt like a really naughty mommy for even admiring it.

The clip is attached to a chain that reached Ellie’s nipple, and when Jeff clamped it onto her tits, it caused an audible gasp from Ellie but without stretching her breast out of shape or squashing her nipples. They would be sore for a little while as a reminder of this session but no worse for the wear.

“Your father connects the clamps then raises the support to stretch out my tits when he wants to punish them, but we’re not doing that with Ellie,” I explained to Jeff, even though he’d seen his father do that a few times.

“Yeah, I know. Can I at least cane each once?” Jeff asked, not being mean but wanting to experience the feeling of caning captured breasts. He seemed a little impatient to show me what he could do and to drive things.

I am not a naturally dominant person, and I’d very much have liked to offer over control to someone else. However, he just wasn’t ready, and I didn’t think Ellie was either.

“Grooms don’t do that, Jeff. Only trainers can, and you only get to be a trainer after a year as a groom. Anyway, when we talk later, your sister might tell you she doesn’t want to be disciplined. Being a pony girl doesn’t automatically mean you want your tits thrashed. Just because I like it doesn’t mean that every pony girl does, and Ellie hasn’t had nearly enough experience with this to know what she wants.”

Ellie neighed behind the bit, although I couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or disagreeing. I did know that her fascination with ponyplay revolved around the look and poise of pony girls and their dedication to their role.

“Okay, Ellie, are you comfortable?” I asked.

Ellie knew I meant ‘relatively’ since the rig was not a truly comfortable piece of training equipment because she did her best to nod.

“Good. Now lift your left knee until it rings the bell on your nipple clamp.”

Ellie lifted a knee and rang the bell, but the wrong knee.

“Other left,” I giggled, knowing that such mistakes were very common among new foals.

She was understandably stressed and doing her best to make me proud, but she didn’t need to try to do that. I was very proud of her already.

“Ellie, stop. In fact, both of you. Take a breath and listen carefully because I have something to tell you both.”

Ellie was already lifting her left knee, but she paused the moment I told her to. The girl had real promise. Her knee came down again.

“Jeff, you need to slow down. You’ve made the decision to become a groom, and you’re attacking it like you need to prove to me you have years of experience, but you don’t. I’m your mother. I know you don’t. There’s no need to prove what you can do, but there is a need to prove you’ve got what it takes to learn.”

“I know that, mom. But I’ve watched you and Dad a million times. I DO know what to do!”

“Then you missed a major lesson, Jeff. Step one ... before anything else, is to be calm, and that will help calm your pony girl. If you are fidgety and nervous or rushed, she will be, too. You want to direct your sister, so think of her as a real horse that you are trying to saddle or harness to a wagon. you don’t see your father or other grooms create panic or tension by moving too quickly. They take their time and are very deliberate with their movements. You set the tone for how Ellie acts, Jeff.”

“As for you, Ellie, you’ve been saved a little from having to see your brother turn himself inside out, wanting to show me he knows everything, but you’ve still done yourself a disservice by overthinking practically everything you’ve heard. The result is you not knowing your left from your right. In a competition, that would be an immediate disqualification.”

I instructed Ellie to lift her left knee and ring the bell attached to her nipple, then return it to the floor. I then counted out loud to three before telling her to lift her left knee again. I repeated the instruction, and the count half a dozen times, randomly choosing left or right before asking Jeff to take over. I still had to slow his counts between knee lifts, but I think after a while, he began to grasp the lesson more fully.

After five minutes of leg lifts, I noticed Ellie was no longer anticipating Jeff’s instructions and was simply following his lead like a proper ponygirl. All in all, a good session, but that just made me want to don my own gear and practice, too.

To be honest, I felt a little jealous of my daughter practicing the art I’d spent years perfecting while I had to stand there and supervise. It was a wonderful reminder that I certainly had no interest in being a trainer!

I let Jeff train Ellie for a few more minutes while she was in the rig, although I knew from experience that the innocent-looking rig could do a number on the unsuspecting first-time user, so I walked Jeff through the steps to release his sister before I supervised him removing the armbinder that held he arms together behind her back, tack, mask, and pony boots.

Once Ellie was completely nude again, I handed Jeff a hairbrush and massage oil. Ellie was smiling widely like she’d proven to herself she had been right in her insistence on experiencing the thrill of being bound and turned into a work of art, as well as being worked physically. I know the feeling well.

It’s like an athlete finishing the marathon they knew they could complete. A feeling of pride and accomplishment despite or maybe in part because of the lingering discomforts of having nipples and cunt clamped, calves and thighs stretched in the towering hoof heels, and posture controlled by the rig.

“Aftercare is one of the most important functions of a groom, Jeff. Imagine Ellie has just come in after a full day working as a pony girl, hauling passengers around, or participating in various events. She would be sweaty, stressed, exhausted, and overstimulated. Your primary responsibility is to help her relax. Remember, the brush is not a paddle to be used on her at this time. Your task is to groom your pony girl and make her feel pampered and special. Once you’re done brushing her hair, you massage her with the oil. Let’s see if you’ve been paying attention. What’s the most important thing to remember about both of those tasks?”

Jeff looked at me for probably 5-10 seconds, trying to read the answer to my features, but I wasn’t giving him any hints. Then his face lit up.

“Patience! Go slow ... take my time and make Ellie feel ... special?” My son asked rhetorically. I could picture a light bulb emerging over his cute little head.

I’m sure Peter would want to work on Jeff’s confidence if this continued into something that neither of them wanted to pursue. Grooms are not hesitant or unsure of themselves, and they are a good pair of traits to take into life outside of tournaments.

I watched Jeff carefully remove the band that kept her hair in a ponytail, then brush Ellie’s long raven locks, taking care to avoid causing knots and clearly taking his time with the task. Just to see Jeff treat his sister so gently and respectfully made my heart swell.

He was at it for nearly ten minutes, talking to her occasionally, telling her what a great pony girl she was going to be one day soon and how he couldn’t wait to see her compete.

Ellie was lapping up the attention as if she were starved for affection, even though it was her younger brother providing the compliments. Jeff couldn’t even see the effect his verbal encouragement was having on his sister.

I could smell her, but the scent wasn’t body odor. Ellie was sexually wound up to a level she had not previously known existed while Jeff was performing one of the tasks that had convinced him he wanted to be a groom in the first place.

Her heightened sexual state seemed to go right over Jeff’s head, and that was a relief to me. An experienced groom know why the pony girl was so fired up, and even if he’d just met her for the first time, he would be balls deep in her.

Of course, with Ellie being Jeff’s sister, I couldn’t and hadn’t explained any of that psychology to him. He didn’t want to be a groom just so he could get his wick wet in a willing pony girl but rather to participate in the art of ponyplay for the sheer thrill of helping out.

I don’t think my son even sees ponyplay as a sexual activity, thank goodness.

I finally left the pair of them alone after Jeff had helped Ellie up onto the massage table to lie face down. He spent ten minutes working on her calves and thighs before having her roll over.

Jeff had massaged me a few times after training when Peter had allowed it, so this was an aspect he was quite familiar with. My son is a natural at it and has quite talented hands. He hadn’t done anything tawdry, and he certainly hadn’t tried to masturbate me. My son hadn’t been shy about touching my tits or my ass cheeks though.

I’ve got quite the badonka-donk, and a lot of men gravitate to my oversized bubble butt. I had to ask Jeff politely to stop pulling my butt cheeks apart to watch them slap back together. He wasn’t the first to play with my butt and he wouldn’t be the last, but there were some things that a mother shouldn’t allow or encourage.

In a way, it is lucky he considers the massage part as aftercare rather than a groom’s due, even when he had Ellie roll over so he could begin to firmly manipulate and stroke her tits. I had to tell Jeff that he should massage my nipples when he gave me an aftercare massage in the past. My nipples get very stimulated and sore during training.

I didn’t have to tell him this time. He went straight for Ellie’s dark nipples and began to gently massage and tweak them. I could tell from her expression that she was surprised. I assumed this might be awkward for both of them as brother and sister.

They didn’t act like lovers, but they didn’t act like brother and sister either. My daughter began to softly purr and surrendered to let Jeff stroke and touch her.

He naturally ignored the fact that her nipples were hard and engorged or that she purred into his touch as if inviting tongue or teeth on them.

From his perspective, the focus of the massage was to address the areas affected by the training. In this instance, it was first her back, thighs, and calves, then when she rolled over, her neck, nipples, and labia. He still had no idea how sexually stimulating a groom’s touch is when a pony girl has just been in training.

When he had massaged me, I’d occasionally had to remind myself it was my son doing the massaging and to not hump too much against his fingers when they brushed near my cunt. I was sure Ellie was going to have the same problem just based on her appreciative sighs.

As parents, our unspoken rule is that erections and children do not mix, so our kids have no idea there’s more to ponyplay than baring a little, or a lot, of skin. I felt Ellie was quite safe in Jeff’s talented hands and that it wouldn’t lead to anything further.

It was an intense session, and after we put away the rig, I sent Ellie to take a nice long shower. I took one myself and masturbated myself to release to take the edge off of the session.

Jeff was helping me set the table that evening when he brought up the posture rig. It seems that Ellie had asked if he’d help her use it again. She’d promised him she’d let him use all the clamps and plugs and even let him cane her breasts if he’d help her again tomorrow. He’d told her he’d ask.

The question made me pause. We’d hosted a lot of ponyplay friends at our house over the years, and the rig had seen extensive use in view of the kids. I didn’t know how Peter would feel about the idea of giving our children full access to it, though.

To me, the concept was the same as with firearms. Educate the children to use and respect them; they’re valuable tools. One doesn’t just hand the kids the keys to the gun safe, though.

“You know I have errands to run most of the day tomorrow, Jeff. Your father approved a supervised demonstration today but now you’re asking to use it without that supervision. Can I trust that you’ll do the right thing and inform your sister the answer is no? She really should have asked me herself.”

“She knew you’d say no, mom.”

“That’s why she wanted to go behind my back. I’m glad you told me, and I know it’s not the answer you want to hear. There’s something else you need to be able to do if you are serious about learning to be a groom. It’s knowing that you’re responsible for the health and safety of your pony girl.”

“I know that, mom!”

“What I mean is that occasionally, you’ll get a request that you have to refuse even if you don’t want to. You want to help Ellie with the rig as much as she wants another go on it, but if you use it without either your father or me present, we’re going to be angry, and for good reason. She thinks you’ll get away with it. What’s the right thing to do, Jeff?”

“Tell her no,” Jeff said with resignation in his voice.

“That’s right, but your attitude is wrong. Who is in charge tomorrow?”

After a moment, Jeff replied, “Ellie?” Jeff knew his sister was always in charge when we left them alone together.

“Not tomorrow. Not after what you’ve just said. I need to trust you to keep her in line tomorrow. She wants to use the rig again and she thinks as long as I’ll never know, it’ll be okay. Your job as groom is to say no.”

“I’m in charge? Cool!”

“Don’t make me regret this, Jeff,” I told him.

To be honest, I was probably overstepping my own boundaries. Peter is the family disciplinarian, and it isn’t my place to put my 14-year-old son in charge of his 18-year-old sister. I realized that I had probably opened a Pandora’s box by agreeing to show this aspect of my life to them. We had never hidden our interests in ponyplay from our kids, but we also hadn’t included them in any of our activities either.

They had seen me naked and in my regalia. I was certain Ellie had probably glamorized the role of the pony in her mind. I had done the very same when I was introduced to the ponygirl lifestyle. I felt that Jeff was just accommodating his sister, and he probably enjoyed seeing boobs and having a little control. It was hard to tell with my son.

He certainly hadn’t gone overboard about it or acted extremely enthusiastic the way Ellie had when I agreed to break out some of the pony regalia and let them experiment.

If Ellie wasn’t just going through a phase and was serious about ponyplay, she’d need to get used to obeying someone else, even a brother 2 years younger than her.

I told Ellie about it at dinner, and she took it well. So, well that I was immediately suspicious.

I love my kids, and I trust them, but they’re still kids, and trust only goes so far. Before bed, I brought up our security app and adjusted the camera in the game room to focus on the rig.

The following day, the kids were in bed, and Peter was home from his trip. I was finished with the errands he had set for me that afternoon, and I was feeling a lot less stressed. We don’t engage in a BDSM lifestyle 24/7, but I’ve never made any secret that Peter makes the decisions in the house.

He isn’t a micromanager, and I have a lot of autonomy to do things that need to be completed. However, sometimes, he gave me errands and specific tasks to perform. Most of them were mundane, some of them were erotic in nature.

The last stop I’d made that afternoon was to a friend of his. I knew why I was visiting and so did his friend. Peter didn’t have to say what I had to do. He simply wrote “Visit Hector” as the last item on the list of errands.

I hadn’t had a dick in a week, and even though I was a gift to Peter’s buddy, he managed to quite handily take the edge off. I was still ready for some Peter cock, though!

It was straight sex with a relative stranger. There wasn’t any emotion, or kissing, or snuggling. I took his clothes off, sucked his dick for a little while and guided his cock into my pussy. I didn’t even know if Hector was married when I arrived, and I didn’t care if he was.

He was a consenting adult, and so was I.

Peter and I made a deal a long time ago. I’ll fuck anyone, anytime, anywhere, as long as he tells me and knows about it. I can ask permission to fuck someone else, but it’s not cheating if he knows about it.

We are swingers, and we have a lot of couples that we play with together. However, Peter likes the feeling that other men want what he has, and he gets to decide what I do, and who I share my body with.

I’ll be honest, I just like cock.

It was a fun, perverted little distraction and nothing more. Hector didn’t ask me to stay, and he didn’t even say thank you. He used my pussy, left his jizz inside me, and then I got dressed and left. It was like a simple transaction.
I’d been so busy during the day that I hadn’t once checked the camera in the game room. It made me feel like a bad mom, so while preparing dinner, I played back the camera footage on my phone at high speed, and sure enough, the kids had spent a lot of time in the game room.

Ellie had even been in full pony regalia, including my headdress, boots, armbinder, bit, and tail. The butt plug tail was a full-sized one, and on Ellie’s small frame, the hair connected to it fell below her knees.

I didn’t know how I felt about my daughter using one of my sex toys, even if she naively considered it part of the costume. I wondered if she’d needed Jeff’s help to pop it in.

Jeff had come through for me, too. I was not about to slow the recording down to normal speed so I could eavesdrop on their conversation, but all that mattered was that they hadn’t used the rig.

He did extensively spank her bottom, and that did momentarily tempt me to slow it down and investigate, but the house was still standing, and the kids hadn’t stayed up to rat each other out when I arrived home, so I didn’t bother.

Jeff also put Ellie through her paces for a good couple of hours before grooming her, and despite viewing everything at high speed, it was clear that both of them appeared to have heeded my words about being deliberate and not anticipating the trainer.

I reminded myself to share the video with Peter at bedtime. It was obvious to me that Ellie has natural skills. Even at high speed, she looked like a ballerina with her high-stepping twists and bows. From an artistic standpoint alone, I could see she is a prodigy, but maybe that’s just me being a mom.

I’d also be sure to point out to Peter at bedtime that Jeff had handled himself in charge of his sister with maturity and aplomb.

“I told you that Ellie loved the rig, but I wanted to catch you up on what happened after we talked on the phone yesterday afternoon. She asked Jeff to put her in it again today. She thought they would do it while I was out.”

“And you didn’t stay home to stop them, Vixen? What were you thinking?!”

Peter uses my pony name as a pet name a lot around the house and definitely in bed. I find it easier to identify with than Carmen, especially around Peter. I am Carmen for mundane tasks and because it’s easier than explaining why my husband calls me “Vixen” to total strangers.

When I hear him call me “Vixen” our unspoken rule is that I need to straighten up and do what he tells me. It’s great for stopping arguments before they begin. I’ve got the fiery Puerto Rican blood running through my veins and usually just hearing him call me Vixen is enough to cool my jets and think about what I will say and do next.

“What I was thinking was that you’d committed my cunt to Hector yesterday afternoon, Sir! I would have let both of you down if I’d stayed home to guard the rig. So, I put Jeff in charge and told him the rig was off limits unless one of us was here.”

“And you didn’t get with me first to seek approval? You know better than that, Vixen. You’ve earned yourself a punishment,” he sighed as if he didn’t particularly enjoy punishing me (he does). “What were you thinking?” Peter shook his head slowly as if accepting partial responsibility for my lapse in judgment.

“I’m sorry, Sir. You know how hard it is to be here without you, and it was a whole week! I guess I just slipped into your role a little as head of the house. I have said before that I can’t maintain my mindset forever when you’re not around, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again. It’s just the way I’m wired.”

“It was a week, Vixen. We spoke multiple times every day. It should have been a no-brainer. So, what happened? With Ellie and Jeff?”

“You would be proud of Jeff, Sir! He kept Ellie off the frame. He worked her for a couple of hours and then groomed her.”

“He worked her? What do you mean?”

It was becoming obvious to me that there was a miscommunication somewhere and the fault probably was with me. I was starting to get nervous, but I continued my explanation.

“You know, pony training. I saved the cam footage from yesterday if you’d like to review it.”

“What the hell, Vixen? I said Ellie could explore a little to satisfy her curiosity! I do not intend to allow my daughter to become a full-on ponygirl! Why am I only learning this stuff now?”

“Sir! I told you that she’s been practicing different facets of pony girl training all week, from speech protocols to legwork to tack. You said it was good that I’d found a way to shut her up when she gets going.”

“I was thinking teaching her a few speech protocols was a game, Vixen! You failed to make me understand it was anything more than a five-minute phase or that you’d put her in full regalia. I had no idea she was so invested. All week? Shit. Now, what am I going to do? Forbid her from acting like a damned horse around the house when her mother already does? This is on you. Fuck. Next, she’ll be demanding I buy her tack of her own and train her, and that’s certainly not going to happen.”

Peter was not amused, and I could already feel the whip on my back. He has a way of making me quiver in anticipation of being corrected for things I hadn’t previously even known I’d done wrong.

I thought I’d been following instructions by sharing some of the basic premises of ponyplay - the PG-rated stuff, anyway. It’s not like I had her throating dildoes or bouncing on fake cocks stuck to a wooden chair, much less providing full service to trainers and grooms.

I wanted to explain that I’d be the queen of the hypocrites to tell her to do what I say and not what I do. I’d been in the rig in front of both of them. I hadn’t done it frequently, but they had seen me practice in the backyard, and nothing that I introduced to them was anything they hadn’t seen before.

I wanted to say that the best way to make Ellie want to do more of this was to tell her that she couldn’t do it.

However, that theory may fall flat since Ellie obviously wanted to do more of it anyway.

Peter’s anger made me wonder why he was so averse to Ellie engaging in basic ponyplay while allowing Jeff to think he could become a groom if he wanted to so badly.

“Sir? I need to understand something. If Ellie can’t be a pony girl, why are you getting Jeff’s hopes up about being a groom? Surely, they lead down the same path?”

“I wouldn’t have to fuck Jeff, that’s why! Jeez, Carmen. For a smart girl, you are the dumbest slut sometimes,” Peter scolded me. It did seem like a double standard to me, but I wasn’t going to argue with my husband.

Now I knew he was truly angry, not just warming up for a game or two. Using my real name and calling me a dumb slut in the same breath was very unlike my husband. Neither of us is really into humiliation games. This time, he had a point, though.

I’d simply been living day to day in his absence, and talk about ponyplay had come up the first day he was gone. Being open with the kids about the training Peter had put me through before he’d left on his trip had led to Jeff asking about being a groom.

That, of course, had caused Ellie to pipe in about still wanting to be a ponygirl. She hadn’t said anything about it in months. When I’d told Peter what Jeff had said, it’d been in an inconsequential way, like, ‘Hey, this is what Jeff said today.’

I’d failed to mention that Ellie had shown much of a renewed interest, not thinking anything of it. I’d just mentioned that I’d played a game with Ellie where any time Jeff or I asked Ellie a question, she could not reply with spoken words. Later, I mentioned that Ellie and I had played dress up.

It never even occurred to me to mention that the dress-up had been in pony regalia. I’d just assumed Peter would know since that’s the only dress-up I play around the kids.

[gymnarchist]

Thank you, I enjoyed a fair bit of this although I will say that my own preferences with the ponygirl concept definitely lean more to the "exhibitionistic cosplay" end of the spectrum. Having the characters themselves flag upcoming potentially offputting tropes, in-story, is an innovative and clever way to handle it!

[EddieDavidson]

Now I could see how Peter allowing Ellie to use the rig had been incredibly stupid of me. I hadn’t prepared him in any way to imagine the true situation. He probably imagined her using it while dressed in her normal shorts and tee shirt.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Sir! Ellie just likes to be harnessed like a pony and prance, and she canter and generally pretends she’s a horse. She has no idea of the other things adult ponygirls get up to.”

“So that excuses your behavior? What do you think your parents would say if you’d been so flippant around your father? I think they’d both be in agreement with me that you fucked up big time here.”

“I think they’d agree I should be punished, Master,” I admitted, feeling my joy at Peter’s return and our kids’ accomplishments evaporate with his condemnation.

I had been way off the path and hadn’t even known it. I needed a severe punishment to even my keel again. I was honestly glad Peter was up for the job.

He’d had a long week, and he was probably tired, but he didn’t shirk or delay his responsibilities. Even though Peter had been comfortable in bed with me, he pulled away from our cuddle and climbed out of bed. I quickly did the same, taking a position on my knees in the middle of our large bedroom to wait for him.

He went to the walk-in closet and returned a minute later with the punishment hood, thumbtack bra, a paddle, whip, and cattle prod, all the items I am a little fearful of. The hood has a 10-inch dildo I have to swallow in order to get it on, and with it on, I can’t see, speak or especially scream.

I don’t know what’s coming, where it’s coming from, or how much it’s going to hurt. I know all about the thumbtack bra, on the other hand, and it is exactly that. A bra with strategically placed thumbtacks embedded in the leather, the sharp pointy ends against my skin.

It once had regular studs, but Peter had replaced them with sharp tacks, so instead of pressing uncomfortably, they’d pierce flesh about a sixteenth of an inch. Tapping the outside of the bra ensured maximum agony.

When he walked into the master bath with it, I knew he was going all the way tonight. He’d soak down the bra before putting it on me. As it dried, it’d shrink, and the thumbtacks would poke me constantly, all at once. I shivered in horrified anticipation. It wasn’t a toy. Neither was the cattle prod, even though he used it at the minimum setting.

I was almost catatonic when he finally removed the hood and loaded me into the sea chest at the foot of the bed last night. In fact, I don’t even remember him doing it. I only know he removed the hood because instead of it choking me, it was next to the bed.

All I remembered was being woken by the click of the auto locks releasing this morning, which sets the hydraulics in motion. The front of the chest opens, and a hydraulic platform flips up, unceremoniously dumping me out on the bedroom floor.

Everything about my punishment was focused on teaching me lessons. I lost track of the hours I spent bound in the darkness with the hood tightly around my head.

The bra was dry, and I had about two dozen sharp tacks sticking into my tits. Being effectively rolled out of the chest while in a fetal position doesn’t protect my tits from further punishment but rather reminds me that I’m wearing it. Then I have to wear it into the shower to get it off again.

The worst part of the punishment is actually nothing Peter did to me last night. It is primarily the lack of proper aftercare for both of us. Peter doesn’t massage me, and I don’t get to snuggle afterward. It’s as much a punishment for him as it is for me, but it doesn’t end there.

We don’t speak of me spending a night cooped up in an oak chest. I’ve learned that Peter considers the punishment complete, and he doesn’t want to hear my apologies the next morning. I know what I’ve done to earn punishment; I’ve paid for it, and we’re starting a fresh new day.

I’m just expected to move on with life as if it’s just another day. It never is, though. My aftercare is showering alone, and it stings worse than the bra or the electric cattle prod sending quick stabbing jolts to cunt, ass, and nipples.

Even after my shower, naked under my robe, I was sore, tired, and stiff the next morning when Ellie bounced into the kitchen in just a pair of panties, her breasts perky and unmarked from the punishment I’d seen Jeff inflict on them with a tawse yesterday.

“Hi, mom! How’d you sleep? I slept like a baby! Do we have plans today? I didn’t know how to dress, but since Dad was home, I thought I’d wait to figure it out until he asked if we were doing a family outing. It’s the best part of Dad getting home from his trips, and I love it when he’s home, but he always makes it nicer because we always do something as a family when he returns,” Ellie’s words were a mile a minute as if she needed to explain her whole thought process to me in a single sentence.

Seeing Ellie pulled me out of my funk a little. She’s a chatterbox, but she’s usually almost normal, starting first thing in the morning and continuing until she’s fully awake. Today, I was being subjected to Ellie full force first thing in the morning.

Other than being unusually hyper so early in the day, Ellie still had a messy bedhead and an unexplainable, freshly fucked air about her that women get, which was completely out of place on ‘morning Ellie.’ I would have bet she’d been dicked if I didn’t know better.

She wore just her panties, without a bra, she hadn’t bothered to change into anything more. My daughter seemed excited, like someone who had one cup of coffee too many, and was hurrying to get another.

That was the most confusing part to me. She was between relationships and, therefore, wouldn’t have sneaked a boy in last night, so what had made her wake up so full of zest and zeal and looking so sexually fulfilled?

“Are you high, Ellie?” I blurted, not really thinking it was possible but worried, nonetheless.

“No! Why would you say that? I’m just so happy about ... well, I guess the whole last week, really. Being a ponygirl is hard, and it hurts in the most tender parts of my body, but I am SO glad Dad allowed it, and I can’t wait to show him my new moves now that he’s finally home and I can ask him if he’ll train me like he does you and Jeff’s going to be my groom and he can be yours too and he’s got really magic hands and I just KNEW I’d love being a ponygirl like you and Gamma! I could hardly sleep last night!”

Ellie calls her grandmother my mom, Gamma. It’s a holdover from when she was young and couldn’t say grandma. Jeff calls Mom the same thing.

I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news and inwardly rejoiced that it would be Peter’s job to let his daughter down. Still, it broke my heart to think of Ellie going from infectious high to disappointed low when she learned of Peter’s objections.

I didn’t have long to wait. Peter stumbled in and immediately found himself with a practically naked daughter plastered to his front, her arms and legs wrapped around him, kissing his neck and thanking him for being the best dad ever.

Peter looked at me in confusion because he clearly had expected me to break the news to her as soon as we met. I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t get a word in edge wise.

“Ellie was just telling me how fantastic this past week has been since I let her do ponygirl stuff. She came in all revved up and excited to ask you something. It’s what we talked about last night,” I explained quietly, remembering how he’d subsequently talked with three different voices ... paddle, whip, and cattle prod.

I don’t call Peter Sir or Master around the kids during our normal day-to-day life, although they’ve heard it from me plenty of times when Peter is actively training me. At times like this, I call my husband by his name or at least omit Peter’s formal title as per his standing instructions.

“I know it was really your permission, Dad, but wow! Being a ponygirl is so ... I dunno, fulfilling, I guess! I feel so special, all strapped up securely and at Jeff’s mercy. Even the punishments are fine! You just don’t even know!” She squealed and kissed his cheeks for emphasis.

Go on, Peter, make her feel like a failure now, I said to myself before remembering this was really all my fault and dropping my chin in shame.

“Actually, it really was all your mother, Womble,” Peter said, calling her by the affectionate baby name he had for her while growing up. She always had a special “Daddy’s girl” relationship with her father, and he’d always been the one to spoil her.

“I only found out last night. Your mom said you’re quite good at the basics of pony play.”

“GOOD? I nailed it, Dad! And not just basic stuff! I know I can win you a blue ribbon the first time you enter me in a tourney even if I’m not as tall as the other ponygirls, although I make up for it in other ways, and my high stepping is great, but you should see me doing side-stepping and turns and prancing and trots and canters and bowing and stuff!”

When Peter didn’t immediately reply, Ellie climbed off him and backed up a step so she could look into his eyes. Her nipples had stiffened while she was hugging him closely.

“You will train me and let me win a ribbon for you, won’t you, Daddy?” Ellie begged.

If you think kittens look adorable with their huge eyes begging for treats, you’d be kind of in the right ballpark with the pleading eyes Ellie was giving her father. He really didn’t stand much of a chance.

“I already had a long talk with Jeff, and he agreed to be my groom if I obey all of his instructions like they came from you. He’s been training me for you for three days already, and I’m getting really good. And I already picked out a ponygirl name! I want to be called Dancer. I can’t wait! I want to be trained just like Mom and Gamma!” Ellie blurted out all in one breath when her kitten eyes weren’t working fast enough on her dad.

“Whoa, slow down, Womble!” Peter laughed at Ellie’s short speech.

“Three days, huh? I was only gone a week.”

“I know. I asked Jeff if he would talk to Mom since she always says no to me when I ask, and if you agreed, we could train together in the yard, and it’d be like when we go to Gamma’s house, and it’ll be so much fun! I can pull you around in Gamma’s sulkie, and Mom and I can both use the Patience Pole together!”

“So, your mom was supposed to get my permission to proceed with all of this?” Peter raised an eyebrow at me as he glared at me. I could tell he thought I had put all of these notions into her head, but I didn’t know half of what Ellie had just vomited out in her excitement. I was still trying to figure out how my kids had done three days of training already. I certainly didn’t remember Jeff asking me to get permission from his father to allow Ellie to train!

I tried to recall the exact conversation I’d had with my son. I can still remember the part where Jeff said he wanted to be Ellie’s groom.

Maybe I’d been so thrilled I’d misheard him or didn’t hear everything? Jeff asking to be a groom was a big deal, even though I’d downplayed it since kids change their minds more often than their underwear.

In my defense, I’d told Jeff that I didn’t like being left in charge!

“Yeah, I was there! He said he wanted to be my groom, so you’d teach him how to train me to be a ponygirl! I didn’t even complain the first time he used the tawse on my boobs and pussy to seal our deal, although that was really smart, but I didn’t cry! Later on, Mom said she’d talked to you, and I guessed she did because then she told me about speech protocols and stuff, and that’s really hard when you know I like to talk, but I learned, and I’m getting good at it now!”

Peter had to hold his hand up and say, “Stand,” to stop her.

‘Stand’ is the word used by ponygirls to tell them to stand at attention without moving or making a noise.

Ellie probably would have kept nattering on for an hour, but she immediately followed his command, coming to attention with her arms behind her and her tits out, smiling at him from ear to ear, showing her perfect, white teeth, her big doe eyes sparkling.

“I have to say, your mother taught you that command well. I can’t fault it. Your posture is right, with weight on the balls of your feet, your knees straight but not locked, your head perfectly level, and your eyes forward. It only looks wrong because you don’t have a bridle and headdress on orbit. And your overall height, of course. Add a harness, possibly a latex body suit, and hoof heels, and you will look perfect. Hmmm. You really want to do this?”

Ellie nickered once for yes.

“You can take orders from your brother despite him being younger than you?”

Ellie nickered once again.

“Stand Down,” Peter said, the command meaning a ponygirl should communicate with words, although the bare minimum. Little more than yes or no - just to convey a basic feeling.

“You said Jeff’s already punished you. How far do you plan on allowing him to go as your groom?” Peter asked.

That was a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. I don’t know how I’d even respond to it if I were Ellie.

“All the way, Sir. Whatever it takes to get me that blue ribbon for you.”

Of course, I didn’t think that Ellie meant all the way, all the way. Not with her brother – not sex. But the message was clear. Whatever it took to win. That’s always been Ellie’s priority.

I knew she didn’t even want the prize for herself, just the recognition. She is the same way with the Junior Varsity cheer squad.

Then Peter said something totally unexpected, but Ellie didn’t hesitate.

“Show me your butthole. Turn, lose the panties, squat, knees on the carpet, spread your cheeks wide apart, and let me have a look” Peter commanded and told her that he had not decided if she’d be a suitable pony.

The command was forceful, clearly spoken, confident and expectant. Very much an average Peter command. Just not something I’d ever expected Peter to say to our daughter. My daughter offered him a pouty dejected expression but her father made it obvious that this was not a negotiation without repeating himself.



My daughter fell to her knees, and positioned herself so that she was fully exposed to us both in the living room.

Ellie even did it in the right order, showing she’d learned something from the day she had used the rig. I’d never actually seen Ellie’s butthole. If I had to describe it, I’d say it was akin to another person’s belly button. It didn’t look like you’d imagine the inside part of a balloon tie to look - like mine looks - it was tiny, round, smooth without wrinkles or anything, and it almost seemed to have a button in the middle.

Her hole was pert, clean, pink, and pretty. She held her cheeks open proudly for him to inspect her as if it were a test or an initiation.

“Have you ever worn a tail before?” Peter asked, stopping Ellie when she went to stand at attention again. He placed his hand firmly on her back so that she would remain in position until given permission to stand.

She apologized and briefly explained she thought she wasn’t supposed to speak unless she was at attention. Her father nodded and gave her permission to answer his questions but didn’t allow her to stand.

“Yes, the first day Jeff trained me. I thought I’d never get it in! I have it figured out now, though. I lube it up with pussy juice, and I just squat on it, and it goes right up there. It even feels kinda neat, but I keep thinking I have to go poop.”

“I see you’ve still got work to do on the Stand Down command, Ellie. I asked a simple yes or no question.”

“Sorry, Dad. I’ll...” she snapped her lips closed, suddenly realizing that even apologies were considered too many words.

Peter studied her for probably a full minute while Ellie continued to hold her cheeks apart before he said anything, just staring at her moist clam and butthole.

“Stand and face me,” Peter said, then when she’d complied, asked, “Are you a virgin, Womble?” he asked, more softly, sounding more like a concerned father than a trainer.

“No ... Sir?” Ellie answered and asked, not sure if she should use the honorific or not while in stand-down mode. I could see she was practically busting a vein trying to keep from asking why he wanted to know.

“That’s a shame.” Peter said sadly.

“Speak freely, Sir?” Ellie asked, her smile disappearing.

“Sure, but please don’t wear me out listening to you,” Peter said with a smile to show he was joking. Sort of.

“Does me not being a virgin ruin my chances of being a ponygirl?” Ellie asked with a quivering voice, biting her lip, afraid of Peter’s answer.

“No. It would have if you’d still been one. Some training tools are made to fit inside your cunt, and I was not prepared to break your hymen to utilize them,” Peter admitted with a frown. Ponygirls have “cunts” and not “vaginas”, and typically when I am in Pony Mode, Peter reminds me of that frequently.

Our cunts need to be ready for use, wet, pliant, and open. A pussy gets treated much more gently, but a Ponygirl cunt is meant to be worked hard, and put away wet.

“Well, that’s a good then then! Ellie almost squealed her relief. “Jeff’s gonna be so happy!”

“Because he can be your groom?” Peter asked.

“Uh ... yeah, sure! He said he’s wanted to train me for a year or more but didn’t think I’d let him.”

I was starting to be puzzled by this story. I got the impression from Jeff that it was all his sister’s idea.

“He’s not a trainer, Womble. He has to learn to be a groom for a year first. Only then will I discuss an apprenticeship as a trainer. Your grandpap insisted on the same thing with me when I first began dating your mom.”

“Back in the olden days? Wow...,” Ellie gushed like it was a hundred years ago. I guess to a 18-year-old freshly out of high school, it may as well have been. “I’m sure Jeff knows that, Sir. Grooms are still allowed to massage ponygirls and stuff, though, aren’t they?”

“Womble, there aren’t any national laws about it,” Peter chuckled at the notion of ponygirl training being anything more than a shadowy fetish activity practiced within the BDSM community.

“They’re simply my rules, and those were your grandpap’s rules, too. We don’t advertise that we’re into training women for sport. That’s why you don’t discuss your mother’s leisure activities with school friends. The rules are just good rules, and they exist for a reason,” Peter explained patiently.

“I know, Dad. I would never tell anyone, I promise. It’s just something I feel in here,” Ellie said, placing her hand over her left upper boob. “It’s challenging, exciting, really painful a bunch of the time, yet it’s just ... I need it, Dad, and I’ll do anything at all to qualify, even if I have to walk on hot coals every day or be led around by a big old nose ring. I don’t mind. I haven’t yet said no to anything Jeff has told me, and I won’t, I promise. You, too, either. If you want that little fat, bald guy who comes over to train mom to train me, I’ll do it gladly.”

“No hot coals, Womble, and you mean Eddie? Eddie Davidson? I doubt he’d be amused at being called a little fat, bald guy, even if the description fits. Anyway, he has plenty of hair, just not on his head. But okay, we’ll give it a go. I am going to have some restrictions and before Eddie has a crack at you, I am going to make sure you can handle the basics!”

“Yes, Daddy!”

Peter cringed a little, and said, “We are going to make time for school, and to spend time as a family. I know you have a little time off for vacation, but your school work better not suffer, and I want you to help your mom around the house too!”

“Okay, Daddy!”

There’s a tournament at Camp Crucible in three weeks that I think I can get us all into. It’s supposed to be restricted to people over 21, but I have a friend.”

“I remember mom talking about that; it’s in Maryland, right? Permission to hug you, Daddy?” Ellie asked, trying to keep the satisfied grin off her face and some measure of professionalism in her tone.

“C’mere Womble,” Peter said, holding his arms open to our daughter.

“Can you start calling me Dancer, Daddy?” Ellie asked before running into Peter’s arms and kissing all over his face, even his lips.

Peter once again had a teen plastered to his front, but this time, a fully nude one. This time he didn’t hesitate to cup her butt to support her.

They hugged for about 30 seconds before he took her little waist in his hands and lifted her off him. Ellie gave him one last smack on the lips before she let herself be put back on her feet.

“Dancer, AFTER you show me, you’ve got at least a little of what it takes already. I’ll have to work with you intensively, no matter what - if we’re doing this. We’ll have a look at you next to Vixen this afternoon. For now, go get your lazybones brother up. I’m taking us all to breakfast, then, minigolf.” Peter told Ellie.

I didn’t say anything. I just returned the eggs to their bowl on the counter. Glad I hadn’t even cracked them for scrambled eggs yet.

The moment Ellie left the room, I said in a really bad impersonation of my husband while trying not to giggle, “I’m not buying her tack of her own and training her, and that’s final!”

“Yeah, yeah. This is STILL all your fault, you little hussy! Blindsided by my own pet wife and daughter,” Peter joked, trying to sound exasperated.

His words were spoiled by the visual of him standing there with a lump in his pants throbbing. He was hard and turned on, and I couldn’t blame him. Ellie was a hot little piece of ass. I wondered if that had popped up before, during, or after Ellie had spread her ass cheeks for him.

Peter insisted that we not discuss ponygirl training or BDSM during the family outing and we didn’t. I was certain everyone wanted to talk about next steps, but Peter was insistent that we have some “normal” family time. No one challenged him on that, and we had a great time on a nice sunny morning.

After minigolf, we all went in Peter’s truck to a fetish store called The Dark Side to get Ellie some hoof boots, a harness, a bridle, a plumed headdress, and a tail. This was Peter’s attempt to show Ellie that what she was content to consider a ‘sport’ had a very real financial cost.

Luckily, Peter’s buddy Steve, the owner, was there, and he was able to get Jeff and Ellie past the front door, but only en route to a changing area that was relatively private. The only one in the back room was his dumpy assistant manager.

We had to pass through the erotic DVDs, sex toys, and magazines that were filled with the typical perverts that inhabit his store regularly. I recognized a few of them, and they recognized me, but I didn’t have time to stop and talk to them.

Peter and I trailed along a little behind the kids who followed Steve’s manager, giving us a little privacy to talk more openly.

Peter quietly assured Steve that he would owe Steve a favor for hooking Ellie up with what she needed, and by that, I knew he meant I would be the favor. Peter was not shy about spreading favors to get what he wanted.

When Steve eyed Ellie’s butt in her tight tee shirt and shorts, making her look no more than her eighteen actual years of age, he whispered a suggestion that he could be very generous if Peter would owe him a favor provided by Ellie.

That made me cringe. It’s one thing for Peter to loan me out and quite another to have another man hint that he’d like to have his way with my daughter. In my mind, Ellie still plays with dolls and hosts pretend tea parties, even if the tea parties are held naked.

Thankfully, Peter seemed to be on the same page as I was.

“Steve, that’s my daughter!” Peter hissed quietly. “She wants to have her own ponygirl regalia after being inspired by Vixen and Luscious for so many years, and I’ve agreed to that. I’m not willing to go any further, though. It’s basically just cosplay for Ellie, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You know my mind lives and thrives in the gutter, Pete. This humble business of mine reflects of that. Anyway, how is your dear mom-in-law? She hasn’t been in for a while. You have the dirtiest family ever, buddy!”

Luscious is what my mom’s pony persona is called although the name could probably use an update. Calling a 61-year-old ‘Luscious’ is stretching things no matter how good shape she’s in.

“Still ticking along, although she retired last year and is living as Luscious full-time now, I am envious they are retired and my father-in-law can train her all day and night.”

Ellie coughed a little, to indicate that wasn’t what he told her.

“We’ve got jobs, school, bills, all sorts of mundane things, and we also need vanilla family time, so living on a full-time pony ranch is something of a fantasy, Womble,” Peter assured her.

“Well, I consider your life a fantasy, Peter! You got a hot wife and a hot daughter, both ready to be trained, I’d trade places in a heartbeat ... okay, mind back on track here. Let’s get down to it. What are you looking for? I’ve got a couple of lightly used showgirl outfits with really fancy headdresses that you could mix and match, but I wouldn’t be able to sell the dresses by themselves, so I don’t really want to split up the sets. You’d have to figure out what to do with the dresses yourself. Then there’s your daughter’s diminutive stature. How ... risqué is she willing to go? Boobs in the breeze?”

“She’s not body shy, Steve, but she is still my daughter. I don’t mind you seeing her stripped down, but I don’t want people thinking ... well, you know how some ponygirls are.”

“Cock hungry whores?” Steve joked, then looked at me for my reaction. I played it coy, but he knew me well (and had been inside of me many times).

“Exactly. But Ellie’s a good girl,” Peter insisted.

“Well, let’s get her naked and go from there, shall we?”

Ellie and Jeff were sitting in two chairs in front of Steve’s desk, looking around in wonder at the chaotic office with its piles of dirty magazines, vibrators, dildos, riding crops, whips, racks of negligees, and bondage gear littering every open space.

“I know it looks like a landfill, kids, but I know exactly where everything is. Now, where’s my tape measure?” he asked himself out loud, immediately proving himself wrong and eliciting a giggle and chuckle from Ellie and Jeff as he’d planned. “Ah, yes,” he said as if remembering before opening his drawer and pulling out a cloth tape measure. “I will need to get some measurements.”

“Oh sure, I guess that makes sense. Should I leave my undies on or take them off too?” Ellie said, already peeling off her tee shirt and jumping to her feet to kick off her sneakers. “I’m a C-cup right now, but mom says they’re still growing, and I’ll probably be a D like Gamma by next year. I trim my bush, but I haven’t shaved it, but I can if I need to, and I’ve used mom’s tail, but it’d be really cool if I could get one with jet black hair instead of brown and...”

“Stand, Ellie,” Peter said before Ellie really got going. Her shorts were already at her knees when he’d spoken, and she was just about to step out of them. Ellie immediately stood at attention and shut up.

“I was going to start with measuring your head, but I guess that works too,” Steve said, carefully looking Ellie up and down, noting the boy shorts style panties and unmatched sports bra. Her nipples were awake, and I wondered why. It wasn’t cold. “You really aren’t shy, are you? But damn, you can talk!”

Steve isn’t one for being politically correct and he’d just been introduced to the chatterbox that is Ellie.

Ellie nickered an introduction and bowed her head slightly in a graceful move that she’s seen me perform when I am gagged and want to acknowledge someone’s presence.

“You may as well get naked, Ellie,” Peter said, acting resigned to the fact that Ellie would strip herself bare at a moment’s notice, although I happened to know it turns him on when I do it.

Ellie quickly finished divesting herself of her shorts and bra and stood naked and unashamed before Steve for the first time ever. I felt a sense of pride that my daughter could be so confident and unashamed. She had freshly shaved her pussy and legs since earlier that morning.

Steve unconsciously licked his lips in appreciation and studied Ellie up and down from her lustrous raven hair, large hoop earrings, past her large, expressive eyes, high cheekbones, flared nostrils, full naturally red lips, long slim neck simply made for a collar, pausing at her beautiful, full breasts that had zero sag, like flesh-covered pudding bowls stuck to her chest before moving down to her sparsely forested cunt with her protruding clit hood then to her shapely, toned legs and small ankles. The inspection took his eyes slowly back up her body, pausing once again at the best female bits. He grinned as he watched her nips visibly pucker.

The “rig” or harness that he chose for her was splendid. It smelled of old leather, and had a lot of shiny buckles. It could be flipped over and worn with the black side showing, or alternated to be brown like a reversible belt.

The harness top had padding for nipple covers, and the bottoms featured a thong that could be worn with it to cover the pussy lips and asshole. It was very modular, so that it could cover her body in a street legal fashion (although highly risque’) or expose everything depending on how she was fitted in it.

My daughter was busting out of it, her natural curves and big butt was restrained by the leather hoops and buckles. I loved it!

“Cosplay only, huh? Damn, damn shame. I could ride that all fucking day!”

“Steve! My daughter, remember?” Peter chided him.

“Hey, all I’m saying is that horses are made to be ridden.”

Jeff chuckled behind his hand, covering it with a cough, and Ellie couldn’t help herself either. She giggled, causing a glare from Peter followed by a slight eye roll. I mean, the comment was perfectly timed, and although off-color, it was funny to everyone except Peter.

Peter moved the conversation along, asking, “Do you have a tail with jet-black hair? Vixen’s has dulled a little, which perfectly suits her own tail, but for Ellie, I need jet black.”

“Not with a starter plug, no, sorry,” Steve admitted.

“It doesn’t have to be a starter plug. Ellie tells me she’s started with her mother’s current one,” Peter assured Steve. I watched Steve’s eyebrows shoot skyward.

“Well, in that case, I might have just the thing. I’d like to see if it fits,” Steve replied, his eyes shining.

I noticed Ellie didn’t seem frightened by the prospect of wearing a fairly sizable butt plug. I was surprised that she didn’t have second thoughts. I started with a smaller plug when I first began my journey into being trained, and I thought it was a whopper!

I didn’t think Peter would agree after what he’d already said about not exposing Ellie to the other side of being a ponygirl so that’s why it was my turn to be surprised when Peter agreed. I almost asked him myself if he was serious.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere. Especially you, young lady!” Steve practically chortled as he rushed his dumpy little female store manager out of the office with him.

We were in a relatively private area of the store, so we could stand freely while my daughter remained naked. Jeff and Peter made conversation, and I smiled and tried not to interrupt.

Ellie started to behave casually, but Peter reminded her that she was Dancer for the duration of this fitting. “You will stand bent over slightly, back arched, hands behind back, ready to be fitted, tits out, ass cheeks, clenched, mouth slightly open, pussy wet, eyes bright and wide, and attentive. Most of all, you will not speak unless given explicit permission to do so!”

“Aww, I was hoping to hear Ellie ask if the leather harness makes her butt look big, Dad!” Jeff quipped.

The guys had a quick laugh at Ellie’s expense, but it was all in fun and not intended in a mean-spirited way. Jeff helped his sister into the basic harness while we awaited the store manager to return with the custom butt plug with the horse hair attachment.



I have to admit that Ellie looked very natural and breathtaking in the basic harness. I had one at home that was very similar in color and style. I could imagine the two of us being trained together. It seemed inevitable now. She was not quivering or balking. She waited slightly bent over with her hands behind her back.

I noticed a few collars and leather straps that I wanted to add to my collection, but this trip wasn’t about me, and Peter was already considering spending a lot of money. I knew better than to bring it up.

Five Minutes later, he was back. Not only did he have the tail, but he also had a cardboard box with a headdress, bridle, bit, harness, elbow gloves, and thigh boots in it. The butt plug was actually bigger than mine, but the color matched Ellie’s hair perfectly.

“If she can get this in, It’ll be my gift to her,” Steve said, holding the butt plug lengthwise in his hand to draw a comparison between its size and his hand. “The best I can do on the rest is five hundred. I could sell the headdress alone for easily that, maybe twice as much.”

The flange was sitting on his forearm, while the rounded tip was near the tips of his fingers. Maybe Steve has little hands, but still. It was easily a 6-inch-long butt plug and two inches at the flange. It really was a monster. There was no way getting that inside her ass could be considered a simple Cosplay prop.

The horse hair attachment at the base can be removed and it can be worn as just a butt plug, or twisted back on to look like an actual horse’s tail.

Peter looked at the butt plug for many seconds before he spoke, but then he didn’t refer to the plug at all.

“Five hundred dollars is a lot of money, Ellie. I’m willing to spend it on you for this rig, but only if you’re serious,” Peter told our daughter she could stand down.

My daughter relaxed.

“If I can’t get that in my ass, I don’t deserve a chance, Dad. It’s just going to take a little ... effort, and I might need a little extra ... motivation ... to make it fit,” Ellie bit her lip.

“Motivation?” Peter asked. “I thought being given the chance to be a ponygirl WAS the motivation. What more is there, Ellie?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Dad, I really DO want to be a ponygirl. That’s why I need ... you know...” Ellie tried to indicate something by turning her head a little towards her brother. He just looked confused, so I guess Ellie decided to just bite the bullet. “If I’m going to get that monster up my ass, I’m going to need to be really fucking turned on, Dad!” Ellie said, only now blushing for the first time.

I could see how that would be an embarrassing admission to make to a father, and it was only the first thing she said that embarrassed Peter. At least she kept it shorter.

“I need to lay across my groom’s or trainer’s lap and play with my cunt while I’m spanked to get me warmed up. That gets my engine running. Just please don’t let me get carried away and cum before that plug is in, Sir.”

Ellie certainly seemed to know what she needed. Peter didn’t like being told what SHE needed, but he seemed to entertain the thought for a moment.

Eventually, Peter replied. “You failed to mention that when you told me how you got your mom’s plug up your ass.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. You should punish me, but ... Jeff needs the experience, and he could practice now,” Ellie politely argued and implied she had done it the same way she proposed to do it in the store.

I wondered how Peter would react to his daughter topping from the bottom as much as expressing an understanding of using pain as an acceptable motivator. He chose to stay away from the subject but looked to Jeff. I could see a difficult conversation between the three of them in the near future.

“You’re up, champ. Think you can handle it?” Peter asked our son. I was shocked that Peter was ready to watch this happen. I wasn’t sure if I was.

“Sure. I’ve done it a bunch of times, Dad. Jeff adjusted the positioning of his chair. “Dancer, Present,” he said with authority, maybe a little too loudly, as if using an outside voice was required, giving the instruction for his sister to bend at the waist to offer her ass for punishment.

It’s not one of the commands I had taught either of them (why would I?) but Ellie seemed like she understood well enough. We hadn’t hidden that facet of my training from the kids, only the part where a cock would be inserted afterward.

Only this time, it was my son giving the order and my daughter complying in preparation for having a plug shoved up her ass. There was no doubt in my mind that it was sexual. We’d thought we’d kept the sexual out of my own training around the kids. They’d seen me naked, and with very light duties- but I’d never given head or done anything like what we were considering now.

It was all new to all of us. I felt the kids were ready to know, but I am not sure how I felt about participation with us. I wasn’t sure how far this would go, and the unknowns gave me anxiety.

Ellie simply assumed the position without hesitation, as if it was just another Saturday, and she even wiggled her butt enticingly.

“Over my lap, Dancer. You expect me to have to do ALL the work?” Jeff chastised his older sister.

“Sorry, Sir,” Ellie apologized and draped herself naked over her brother with her tummy resting in his lap and her butt in a perfect position for him to spank her. They’d obviously done this before.

The way Ellie looked up at her brother with love and affection from her position draped across his lap was a little at odds with the reason she was doing it. I got the impression that this was nothing new for either of them. Jeff knew exactly how to get his sister started.

Most older sisters, in my experience, simply put up with younger brothers, treating them as lower forms of life. Although that had never really been the case with Ellie and Jeff, I thought I could see a level of respect that I hadn’t expected to notice between the two of them.

Jeff slowly tweaked his sister’s nipples as he warmed her up, and rubbed her ass with his other hand. She groaned a little as she settled into place.

Even more than Ellie had been displaying over the last week, like she was dependent on him or something. I shook my head to clear out such nonsense. My kids just love each other, and I should be proud of that.

[EddieDavidson]

Jeff started spanking Ellie’s butt. He didn’t spank her as hard as I thought he could. Not even close. I wasn’t sure what was happening. Each swat would force my daughter’s head forward in his lap, and she would bite her lip.

I expected her to start masturbating right away, but instead, when her hands tried to reach between her legs, he moved them to the sides and forced her to give him access to her bubble butt.

I thought he would have if only to show his father and me that he could, but instead, he gave her the sort of hand spanking that a lover would, not intent on making her butt bruise so much as just warming it up for her.

After a dozen slaps, he traced the pinkness he’d caused, then slipped fingers between her legs and over her pussy, the tips actually penetrating her folds a little and making my daughter moan deep within her throat when he diddled her clit. Anytime she tried to touch herself, he stopped her.

He was checking to see if his own sister was lubricating with no hesitation at all! Then he returned to slapping her butt. “You may cum!”

Orgasm denial! I recognized it immediately. I got the impression that this was all Ellie’s idea. She enthusiastically began to rub her juicy pussy enthusiastically while grinding her pussy in her brother’s lap.

I imagined she had told him to spank her ass and prevent her from touching herself because it built up her desire, and then finally, giving her permission to have an orgasm was the ultimate pleasure. I knew that feeling well enough to know that my daughter probably stumbled on it and enjoyed it.

“Get yourself wet and finger your ass! It’s time!” Jeff said. He continued to smack her ass around her probing fingers.

Ellie didn’t hesitate either. Her fingers went to her cunt, and she began to play with herself while her brother continued to slap all over her ass.

“Finger fuck yourself, Dancer,” he ordered, then lifted his hand towards Steve, indicating Steve should hand over the butt plug. Steve handed it over without his eyes leaving what Ellie was doing to herself in front of him.

Jeff didn’t seem at all uncomfortable instructing his sister to masturbate, nor that she was doing it while lying over him. I couldn’t tell from the angle, but I was certain Jeff’s erection was pressed against his sister’s tummy through his pants.

I assumed this might be mortifying for either of them to do in front of us, and yet they carried on with their ritual openly and without concern that her parents, the store owner, and his assistant were watching.

“Gah, I am ready, fuck my juicy cunt with it and get it all juiced up, Jeff. I’m good and wet,” she said unnecessarily. We could all see and smell her juices dripping down her thigh as she brought herself to ecstasy and offered her pussy to her brother.

I could see and hear how wet she was. I had worn my pony regalia around my kids, but I had never diddled myself around them. I couldn’t imagine doing it this casually in front of either of them. I wondered if they just tuned us all out or if they really didn’t care what we thought of them.

Jeff didn’t immediately fuck his sister’s cunt with the toy. Instead, he went back to peppering her bottom with light spanks for a minute first. He wasn’t gentle either when he did push the toy between her wet pussy lips, and he didn’t have to wiggle it around to find her channel.

It was like he instinctively knew where her hole was, and he just drove it home all the way with one push. Home it went before he began sawing it in and out of the elasticity around his older sister’s asshole. Her tummy quivered over his lap as she allowed him to work it in and out of her butt without fully removing the plug.

“Oh god, yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!” my daughter smiled through the sensation.

Seeing my daughter fucked so casually by her bother wielding a sex toy was about as sexual as it gets. Hearing her gasp and moan in pleasure was really turning me on despite who it was I was watching. A glance at Peter’s crotch showed it wasn’t just me who was reacting to the scene.

“Go, bro! Jam that fucker in my ass! Hard!” Ellie said, sounding like a proper slut. “Just do it, I am ready,” she plucked a finger from her asshole and held her cheeks apart for him.

Jeff didn’t need to be told twice, although he shouldn’t have done what she asked. He should have let his sister relax her sphincter and eased just the tip in, but he positioned the tip against her anus and really pushed hard, making Ellie scream like a banshee. The plug did go almost all the way in with that shove, though.

“Is it in?” Ellie gasped.

“Nope, not yet. Your ass is too tight. I’ve told you that before,” Jeff replied calmly, not freaked at her screams.

Please push harder, Jeff! I am so close! Oh god, It’s so biggggggg!” Ellie begged.

Two thoughts struck me at the same time, hearing Ellie’s plea.

First, she had to be in a lot of pain, but she almost didn’t care. She was clearly going to get the massive plug in her ass if it tore her up doing it. Secondly, it seemed like she was trying to reach climax simultaneously to having the plug seated into her asshole.

I still remember calling Peter a son of a bitch when he’d first insisted that ponygirls had to have tails and had far more gently worked a starter plug into my ass.

Peter remained silent, observing without comment.

If this was all a game to Ellie, she was adhering to the rules and taking it seriously. The only thing that she did not do was call him “Sir,” which a good pony should do when addressing a trainer or groom.

Jeff then did something else I hadn’t expected. He reached around his sister and grabbed a nipple between thumb and finger, cruelly pinching and twisting it, making Ellie scream again. With the heel of his free hand, he hammered on the plug as hard as he could, pushing the last inch into her rectum. She didn’t fight him or even remove her hands from her cheeks. She bucked a little in his lap and suppressed the pain but bit her lip and soaked it up.

“Houston, the plug has landed,” he joked, letting go of Ellie’s nipple and patting her head like she was a puppy. After giving her a moment, he said, “Stand!”

Ellie was a little shaky on her feet. My daughter’s cunt was puffy and her nipples were engorged when she stood, and it was clear to me she was very aroused. Her tortured expression from the harsh installation of the butt plug quickly faded.

Still, she remembered to stand with her wrists crossed behind her as though bound. It wasn’t something we’d done in Peter’s absence, but she’d seen me stand like that for Peter, and she was simply copying me.

“Did you cum?”

“I was close!” Ellie smiled at Jeff to indicate that it was better than nothing.

“Did I do it the way you like?” he asked. That confirmed my suspicion that Ellie had taught her little brother to turn her screws.

She leaned down, hugged him, kissed his cheek, and let her long, dark hair fall on his head. “You blew my mind, little brother.”

“Good, Stand!”

Jeff seemed to know it was his job as a groom wannabe to dress his older sister, and Ellie showed no hesitation in allowing him to fit the bridle, bit, and headdress to her head. I was not sure that Jeff was fully in charge of his sister, but she obeyed him like he was when he gave her commands.

My daughter stood there passively as he fitted the bridle’s leather straps that bisected her pretty features with a small smile, probably imagining what she’d look like, all dressed in her own pony gear.

She accepted the bit with grace and aplomb, too. I’ve seen some ponygirls chomp their bit, trying to make it more comfortable, but Ellie looked like she’d been born with this one in her mouth.

More surprising to me was that she didn’t seem to find the way he strapped the harness to her body with a fair amount of intimate touching a problem, even when he repositioned her breasts and freed a cunt flap that had gotten caught in the straps between her legs. It’s something she could easily have donned by herself.

I probably would have felt a little squeamish about my son touching me the way he was touching Ellie. That’s really saying something, considering that probably hundreds of men’s hands had been on me over the years, just never a family member’s, unless you counted Jeff’s massages.

Ellie even rested a hand on his shoulder while he got down on his knees to encase her legs in the boots. Those were something else as well. Mine are hoof heels - they leave a horseshoe-shaped tread in the dirt when worn in tourneys. These were simply spiked heels - not something a ponygirl usually wore, but all Steve had, and they really worked for Ellie.

In a way, they gave off a dominatrix vibe rather than a ponygirl one, but they were certainly towering heels that made Ellie a good six inches taller and forced her onto her toes. If there’s one thing Steve’s particularly good at, is judging shoe size. They were spot on. Even knowing they were leather, they had a super-shiny latex look to them. I immediately wondered if maybe she’d loan them to me!

The last items were the gloves, which matched the shiny black leather of the boots. Steve pointed out that one feature of the gloves was the grommets placed equidistant up the sleeves. These grommet holes, he said, would allow padlocks to be used, turning them into an armbinder. My armbinder at home has no individual fingers like these gloves, although the individual fingers don’t really detract from the overall look.

This armbinder was intended to lock the elbows together behind the back and give the impression of angel or butterfly wings.

I couldn’t help but think of how they’d look on me. I could imagine myself covered in baby oil with my arms bound behind my back and my tits exposed. I could picture my husband titty fucking me and climaxing on my tits. I was getting quite aroused by the mental image.

Overall, Ellie looked stunning just standing there. If anything, I was torn between being a proud mom and being a jealous bitch. How Peter would be able to stand training her without at least considering mounting her despite her being his daughter was going to be the real test.

Then when she casually flexed a single butt cheek and swished her tail, I had to admit to myself that it no longer looked too long on her despite falling almost to her ankles.

I could easily see that Jeff certainly had wood by the time he finished, and she wasn’t even made up yet. Bright red lipstick and heavy smokey eye makeup would perfectly compliment the outfit and add a couple of years to her since she really should have been twenty one to compete at Camp Crucible.

“Whew, God, she’s hot, Pete. I’d give you the lot for free if_”

“My daughter, Steve,” Peter reminded the store owner again, although he sounded like it was disappointing to him as well. I would have gladly fucked Pete for a 20% discount on the stuff if my husband had told me to fuck him. However, I’ve fucked Pete many times in the past just for the heck of it.

I wasn’t sure how I would feel if my kids ever found out just how frequently I fuck my husband’s friends and sometimes total strangers. I wasn’t sure if they would think less of me, but I really do love sex, and I was super horny after watching that intense scene unfold.

“Yeah ... oh, by the way, I don’t have any in stock at the moment, but the hookups are right there on the bridle for blinders, too. They’d be an extra $49.95 if you want me to order them,” Steve said helpfully.

“Do it. It’d be a waste not to go the extra step. And I’ll need a matching glossy black bikini, too. Vegas requires at least a thong, but looking like that, she’s practically begging to be molested...” Peter stopped himself, cleared his throat, and started again. “They require her cunt be covered in the convention center.”

“Sure, sure. You know I have a flesh-colored bikini that will blend with her complexion if you want her to look naked without her actually being naked?”

“No. Certainly not. It can be a small bikini, but it needs to completely cover cunt and nipples,” Peter insisted. “I’m not going to fight guys off my little girl.”

“Not so fucking little, bud!” Steve disagreed before making another couple of suggestions.

“Are you getting her a collar? I know usually that it’s something that has to be earned, but since she’s already your kid, you might want to consider it ... to ... well, you know how some of these guys are around a sl ... I mean a woman without one. They’ll think she’s on the market ... ya know? She’s not, right?”

I know that Jeff was talking about a slave. I think Peter wasn’t ready to think of his daughter as his slave. I would consider myself a submissive and not a slave. A slave can be sold or given away permanently and is truly property. My relationship with my husband, though, often borders on that sort of deep commitment.

It wasn’t something we discussed frequently. We had met many couples where the women (or sometimes the men) felt very passionately about being their spouse’s slave and were quite at home with it.

Peter shot him a look that said he was walking on thin ice.

“I’m just saying, I know the score and couldn’t help wondering. Oh, I almost forgot. Are you wanting a riding crop? We have a new thing that came In a few weeks ago. You can get a personalized one for her with her name printed down the shaft for $49.95. To make her feel fully accessorized.”

“If you don’t get it, Dad, I’ll pay for it!” Jeff volunteered, causing everyone to look at him, even Ellie, who should have been standing with eyes in front.

Ellie’s expression suggested she was grateful to Jeff for suggesting it. It made me a little uncomfortable to think of my daughter wanting a discipline tool with her own name on it. She’s too young to be ... well, I don’t know. She is just too young to be coveting things that could be used to discipline her.

“In for a penny ... I guess. One crop with Ellie inscribed on it then, too.”

“Dancer, dad. Her pony persona is Dancer. She’s not your daughter; she’s a ponygirl if you haven’t noticed. You may as well reinforce that so she doesn’t get bent out of shape when you use it on her. We’ve, I mean Dancer and I, talked about that. You can whip the snot out of Dancer, but not your daughter. That’d just be ... wrong,” Jeff advised his father.

“Hmmm. I suppose you have a point. Okay, Dancer it is. But no matter which way you slice it, your sister is wearing $500.00 of gear, and adding the blinders and crop, that’s practically $600.00, not even counting the cost of a bikini, probably another $49.95,” he said, looking at Steve.

“79.95, Steve replied.

“Okay, whatever. If this is a phase, I’m going to be pretty pissed, Womble.”

“She wears mom’s gear, so there’s no reason mom couldn’t wear this if she changes her mind, but why don’t you have her make a down payment on it?”

“Your sister probably has less in the bank than you, Champ,” Peter chuckled at the idea of Ellie paying part of the cost.

“I mean with her body. A $50.00 deposit with her boobs and a $100.00 deposit with her cunt.”

“Jeffrey!” Peter scolded his son. “Your sister is NOT a whore!”

“Noooooo. I mean, ask her if she’ll take a beating on her boobs or cunt with her new crop! I’m sure she doesn’t expect It to be a decorative accessory anyway,” Jeff explained.

“I don’t know Ellie’s limits; I mean Dancer’s limits. I need to establish pain tolerance thresholds before something like that.”

My daughter stomped angrily and whinnied defiantly.

“Dancer is tough, Dad; she can take it!”

“Yeah, I saw how you spank son. I don’t mean to offend you, but I could have done more with a wet noodle. If that’s what your sister is used to, then I don’t think she’s prepared to use her body as a down payment. I will just say this. Dancer, if you decide you don’t want to train as a pony, that’s fine. That will be your choice, but if you do, then we put all this stuff away. There is no coming back. I won’t have you play for a week and then stop and play whenever you feel like it.”

Ellie nodded in agreement.

“Dancer, whinny once for no, twice for yes, you will be trained as a ponygirl, and you can always stop, but if you pull the ripcord and bail on me, I am not going to let you just waltz back in when you get a horny feeling. Pony training is more than just fancy steps and whips. There is service and submission and you will be getting trained daily.”

Ellie didn’t waste any time. She whinnied once.

“I guess_” Peter started to say.

Ellie whinnied again, seemingly struggling with the gag in her mouth to make a proper noise, and then finally blew out spit around the bit. “Proofffthhh” then stomped her spike-heeled foot for emphasis.

“Okay, I_” Peter started again.

“See? I’m telling you, Dancer wants to do this, and so do I!”

Peter didn’t ask Jeff to confirm or commit to being a groom. I think he just assumed that he would say that he wanted to stop if he ever decided that he wanted to do that.

“Okay, I guess we’re about done here. As soon as Ellie gets all this stuff off again, we can ring it up and the bikini and get everything bagged up. I’ll decide about using the crop on the way home.” Jeff just nodded agreement as if he, too, had a say. Then he asked another question.

“Can’t she wear her regalia home, Dad?” He asked, making Ellie nod a little. Not too much, but enough to agree with her brother without breaking character.

“She’s practically naked, son, and it’d be illegal.”

“C’mon, dad! There’s a picture in the photo album at home of Mom naked outside Home Depot! If it’s illegal for Dancer, it must have been just as illegal for Mom. Think of it as another way for Dancer to prove herself to you. I bet she just calmly steps right outside.

“That was taken many years ago, and we were there around six in the morning when the parking lot was nearly empty. It was foolish because there could have been families or total strangers who were offended, Son.”

I wanted to side with Ellie. I could see how excited she was. “It is street legal, dear,” I added in her defense. My daughter’s nipples, asshole, and cunt were not visible, but honestly, it was pretty sketchy.

Peter thought about it for a full minute while we got rung up by Steve’s assistant. He allowed Ellie to walk around the store outside of the changing area that we had been in. It was a typical adult fetish novelty store, so the customers weren’t entirely shocked to see her marching around.

Quite a few of them smiled and stared at her. I could tell Peter was proud that men were lusting after what he had. I had seen that look from him when he made me prance around in front of people in my pony regalia at BDSM events.

Steve also showed my husband a black collar similar to one that I often wear when I am in pony dress.

Peter looked at it for some time before nodding. Once again, Jeff put the additional gear on his sister. In my mind, the only thing the bikini did was draw attention to her girly parts. The bikini bottoms were so small there was a tuft of pubic hair poking out the top, and he cinched to top up so tightly Ellie’s breasts bulged.

No one in the store continued to shop. The half a dozen men who had been casually looking through the DVDS and the one or two other women who had been looking at sex toys stared at us while my daughter’s butt cheeks jiggled with every heavy step in her new high-heeled black boots.

“It’s going to take a while to get used to those,” I assured her.

Once Peter had paid Steve and gotten a receipt, Jeff followed his sister to the door. Somehow, my son had snuck in a leash with the collar, and he looked quite pleased with himself, holding the end.

“Fine, she can ride home in the car, but we aren’t stopping at Home Depot OR Brandt’s hardware,” my husband grinned with pride. The car was just outside. It seemed fairly risqué to go outside in broad daylight, but Steve’s store is in a rundown plaza, and the only people who might have seen her would have been customers coming to the store.

I waved goodbye to Steve as we left. “Wait a minute, what about a blowjob Carmen?” Steve asked abruptly as I was walking out. I felt like a second fiddle to my own daughter and an afterthought.

“You should have asked my husband when you had a chance, Steve,” I smiled as I walked away. I would have liked to have sucked his dick. Steve has a nice cock, and he can hold out a little while before cumming. I didn’t even tell my husband what Steve had asked me when I sat down in the front seat next to him.

The ride home was very quiet, with Ellie dribbling spit down her chest as she sat next to her brother in the backseat. I got the impression that she might be playing with his cock, and I didn’t look in the backseat to find out.

Ellie wasn’t as confident turning or walking as she had been standing still. She had a lot yet to learn about walking in heels, much less high stepping. Ellie promptly went inside and remained in her outfit, except Jeff removed the bits that hid her pussy and nipples.

She looked happy and not at all embarrassed being seen nude around the rest of her family. I felt awkward because I was usually the one in pony regalia, and most of the time, I kept on the nipple padding and the bottoms around my kids.

She high-stepped across the room to her father, me, came smoothly to a halt, neighed, stomped one foot, and then twitched her tail as if it were simply a part of her. Peter guided her, and his attention was strictly focused on our daughter.

I watched for a few minutes and admired my daughter’s body and form, and how Peter could be so exacting and demanding.

I almost gasped when my son approached me and abruptly said “Strip, Mom, we’re going to put you two together and work out a routine,” Jeff ordered as if he expected me to obey immediately.

My jaw dropped open, and I looked at Peter for confirmation that my son could now give me an order like that. Peter was busy with Ellie, and he didn’t hear me.

“Well, um,” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “How about I go to the bathroom and put on my regalia first?” I asked.

Jeff shrugged and returned to Ellie and Peter.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Jeff ordering me around the house. He spoke with confidence and authority, but I am naturally submissive, and if I get told to do something, I might instinctively just follow the order as if it were valid.

I blushed a little, but my olive skin hid it well. It was now the moment of truth for me. I had been partnered with many women, including my own mother, for pony events. It still felt strange to think about being partnered with Ellie and groomed by Jeff.

I went to the master bathroom and hopped in the shower for a quick scrub down and to use the wand to clean my butt out as much as possible. I reluctantly shut the water off at the sound of the tone after 3 minutes (Peter has a timer for me so I don’t spend all day under the water) and climbed out of the shower.

I heard my husband summon me from the bedroom. That was unusual and I hoped it meant sex. “Give me a just a minute please,” I yelled politely while enjoying the last few minutes of a hot soak drenching my naked body.

“Now Vixen!!”

Oh shit! That meant front and center- no excuses.

“Sorry, Sir!” I grabbed one of the big fluffy bath sheets around myself but I didn’t waste time drying. Peter wanted me now, and that’s all I needed to hear.

I came to an abrupt halt when I walked into our bedroom. Peter was sitting on the bed with Jeff next to him, and Ellie was standing in full regalia at attention.

In my bedroom! With us. This was clearly not what I thought it was going to be at all, and I felt like they may be ganging up on me or having an intervention.

Was I in trouble for something? I didn’t know why my husband had demanded that I get out of the shower while I was still wet.

Obviously, I didn’t care that my husband was in my room, but I wasn’t prepared for my daughter and son to be waiting for me to walk out of the shower.

I’d told Jeff I would get into my gear and meet him in the living room!

“Ah, a little privacy, please?” I asked the three of them while I held the towel to my chest. I didn’t know what was going on, but I wasn’t used to being confronted like this. I had expected my husband to be horny and want to fool around, not to have a little chat. I was still dripping water all over the bedroom carpet. My kids had seen me nude, and would certainly be watching me while I practiced with my daughter. I was just a little confused by what could have been so urgent that I had to stop midway through washing myself (and probably playing with myself a little).

“Did Jeff order you to strip in the living room?” Peter asked harshly. I didn’t want to get my son in trouble. I also didn’t want to get in trouble for being disobedient. I wasn’t sure if Jeff could give me that kind of instruction.

I almost sighed – was this what this was about? I wanted to go back to the shower, or at least dry off, but Peter’s expression told me that he was serious.

“Yes, but I told him I needed to use the bathroom and asked if I could put on my regalia and meet you downstairs,” I explained as I held the towel to my damp body and dried off.

Pete turned to his son and appeared disappointed with him. I didn’t intend to get my son in trouble. I attempted to backpedal, but my husband shushed me before I could.

“Jeff, your mom is still your mom and has authority over you when she is not a pony. When she is Vixen, I will let you be her groom, but I don’t want you giving her orders like that around the house while she is not in pony mode.”

I was relieved that I was in trouble. This was about teaching Jeff some boundaries. I could get behind that. I expected that soon he would be my groom, but I was still a little surprised that my son dared tell me to strip in the living room. That was not like Jeff at all. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, and probably would have if I felt like it, because I didn’t even process it as an order.

Pony mode wasn’t an official thing, either. It was an unofficial recognition that I was to be addressed as Vixen, and it was just between me and my husband. Jeff didn’t ask what it meant, though. I think he understood the term in the context in which my husband used it.

“Sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Jeff apologized.

“I know that son and I need to think about boundaries and limits while ensuring that the harmony of the house is maintained and that we have vanilla family time,” Peter acknowledged that he wasn’t angry with Jeff.

He turned to me. “Are you willing to allow Jeff to learn to be your groom? I’ll be evaluating him, but that means that you will be expected to help guide him.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied crisply. I knew that it was inevitable he would be and that I’d be expected to be a good role model for my daughter when she was in training. It was much better than being the one to run them through drills. I wasn’t sure what was meant by “guiding” my son, but I knew now was not the time to ask for details.

Peter noted the crispness in my voice when I responded. “Good, drop the towel, Vixen.”

Whether pony mode was official or not, he made it clear that it had begun. I dropped the towel and stood before my entire family, completely naked, still wet from the shower.



It wasn’t the first time my son and daughter had seen me nude, and I was comfortable in my own skin. I stood before my husband, waiting to be told what to do next. I nodded to both of them gracefully in a slow manner, which indicated that I understood.

“Okay, then we need to have a little family pow-wow, and now is as good as any time,” Peter informed me. “Jeff can dry you and help you don your gear. He needs all the experience he can get as a groom.”

“Oh,” I replied, as witty as ever. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that command.

Jeff had never helped me put my regalia on before. I was quite capable of doing it myself when Peter or a real groom wasn’t available. I wasn’t sure how to react to Peter’s statement. Jeff was already up off the bed and reaching for the towel around my body.

“I’ll take that, Mom. Just sit on the edge of the bed,” he instructed. Jeff didn’t come across as demanding or whiny, and I had no reason to balk at a simple instruction. It was an instruction, though, and not a request, and that was a subtle distinction but an important one.

I was off balance and in a bit of a daze as I allowed my son to unwrap me. He got really close doing it, and when I took a half step backward, the edge of the bed caught my calves, and I had to quickly pivot and sit down hard rather than miss the bed and fall to the floor.

“Watch yourself,” Peter said unhelpfully with a smile when he saw what I nearly did.

“So, am I Mom, or am I Vixen?” I asked for clarification.

“Vixen,” Jeff and Peter said at the same time. They both smiled at one another.

“Then why isn’t he calling me Vixen? It’s confusing, Sir.”

Peter hadn’t even noticed at first. Jeff calling me Mom was very natural sounding, and Peter was more intent on proceeding with his discussion than he was in protocol.

“Jeff, don’t confuse your mother. Address her as Vixen, please,” he instructed.

Jeff nodded to his father and tapped my knee. I spread my thighs automatically so he could stand between them and get at my head towel, which he unwrapped. He didn’t seem to mind getting close to me to use the towel to pat dry my hair, even leaning in closer so his chest was about two inches away from my nose to reach behind me and pat my long dark hair. It was totally nonsexual, yet I felt like Jeff was being very intimate with me.

“Stand up, Mom,” Jeff ordered. It felt weird being called “Mom” but knowing that I was Vixen. I didn’t want to complain a second time.

I’d been around my kids in pony regalia before, and they always called me “Mom,” but this felt different. I cringed a little when he addressed me as Mom while giving me an order.

I glanced at Peter for confirmation, and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod. “This will take some getting used to for everyone. Just roll with it, Vixen.”

“Oh, whoops,” Jeff registered that he accidentally called me mom, but didn’t apologize. He instructed me to stand without saying my name at all.

I stood up awkwardly, Jeff not backing up much and staying well within my personal space.

He began using the head towel to pat my body, and I almost said something when he confidently grabbed a nipple and used it to lift my breast and pat the underside dry. I’d never been manhandled by my own son before. It was a little disconcerting. Peter didn’t seem to mind, though, and he simply began to explain the reason they were in our bedroom.

“I’ve been thinking, Vixen. Jeff and Ellie are at an age where they’ve begun making their own decisions. Jeff told me Ellie convinced him to begin training her as a ponygirl, and they have gone much further than either of us knew before today, so I had a decision to make about her if she is to be trained as Dancer.”

“What do you mean they’ve gone further? And what sort of decision?” I asked as Jeff continued to pat dry me, being as handsome as any lover. It was squicking me out a little, but I was trying to ignore him. I wasn’t gagged and hadn’t been told that I couldn’t speak casually.

“I’ll get to that in a minute, but first, the decision. We’ve been open and honest about a lot of stuff with the kids, Vixen. We don’t body shame or kink shame. Life is too short to rain on other people’s rainbows.”

I nodded and agreed while my son patted my entire body dry. It felt good and wasn’t sexual. He’s given me massages plenty of times in the past, so this was not that weird for me.

“We have raised our kids not to be body shy. Remember when Ellie hit puberty and suddenly became embarrassed about the changes going on with her body? The sensitive nipples, the way her boobs started sprouting like she’d been stung by bees. Her hips changing, and her first pubic hair? I had you spend six months coming home from work and stripping nude inside the front door so the kids could get accustomed to it. Remember when I punished Ellie the same way for stealing liquor out of the cabinet? She was mortified those first few times, but it didn’t take her long to get used to it.”

I remembered that very well. Ellie cried the first time Peter made her strip, but by the third day, she was flinging her clothes off, and I had to make her pick them up when I got home from work. He could never again use the threat of being bare-ass around the house as a punishment again.

Jeff had copied his sister with stripping off, and instead of becoming shy when he hit puberty himself, he loved to show off his erection to anyone who’d look. His first pubic hair was a family event.

“Okay, and what’s that got to do with today, Sir?” I addressed my husband properly while in pony mode.

“We’ve still kept secrets from them. They’re old enough now to learn that there’s more to being a ponygirl or a groom than we’ve told them, and I want them to make their own decisions before we train again. We haven’t trained fully around the house in front of them; we’ve always done a very light version of it. Camp Crucible is a very real version, and they are likely to see some things there that they’ve never imagined we might do.”

Alarm bells began ringing in my head about the same time that Jeff nudged my thighs apart and began patting me on my upper thighs and right on my cunt. I could feel his fingers through the single layer of towel. He had massaged my ass and tits before but never my labia or clit, and he was getting extremely close with his fingers.

Despite him being my son, the tingles began to herald my natural lubrication. It was going to take more than a towel to dry my cunt off now.

“My decision is that I am just going to be fully honest with them, and I want you to be as well,” Peter said before turning to the two of them. “Guys, your mom is my ponygirl. You know that. Vixen is Mine, as in I own her completely.”

He paused. I didn’t think they truly understood what it meant to be in a total power exchange relationship. I knew Peter knew they would need to hear more. He looked up at me and then continued.

“I tell your mother what to do not just when she’s having her weekly training but every day. Even when she is Carmen and not while she is in ponygirl mode. It’s led to harmony in our relationship. We don’t have conflicts and arguments. I consider her needs and what she wants, but ultimately, the important decisions are solely mine.”

Our kids seemed non-plussed. I doubted that they knew this, but I assumed that they probably suspected it.

“In some relationships, the man makes all the decisions, and in some, the women make all the decisions. In some relationships, they make them jointly. That can lead to misunderstandings and conflicts of interest. It’s important to understand that Vixen consented to this relationship a long time ago, and it works for US, but it may not work for others.”

Ellie and Jeff appeared bored. Jeff was now rubbing my pussy and driving me a little wild. I placed my hands behind my back and tried not to look at him. I was embarrassed that I was so wet and surprised that he was bold enough to stroke my pussy right in front of his father when he was just supposed to be drying me off.

“Even when she isn’t wearing her regalia, Vixen follows my orders, and she does what I tell her, even when I tell her to fuck other men. We don’t have an open relationship. Your mom can’t fuck anyone SHE likes, but she will fuck anyone that I tell her. Your mom has had more cock in her this year than your average whore on Baker Street.”

“Peter!” I hissed, even as my knees were getting weak from Jeff’s continued patting of my cunt, although he had begun swiping a finger between my nether lips as if not understanding why I wasn’t getting dry and pushing my clitoral hood in the process.

I was aghast that Peter had been so crass about my sexual escapades.

“I said I was going to tell them everything and be honest Vixen. They want to come to Camp Crucible, and they are going to find out how we live. I don’t plan to change how I live. Ellie wants to be a ponygirl named Dancer. Okay, and I accept that she thinks she does.”

Jeff began using his thumb and forefinger to pull my clit a little and adjust it. I winced, and a small tear ran down my eye. I wasn’t sad, I was having a hard time not reacting to his touch. I assumed that he was touching me this way because he thought less of me now.

“She has seen you flit around the house in your pony regalia, do tricks, high steps, get corrected with a crop, and may have the concept that it’s a glamorous form of exhibitionism and fancy dress. I need them to know it’s more than that to you, and if she trains alongside you, then she is going to know that. I need Jeff to know that if he grooms you, I expect certain behaviors and outcomes from you. I am not going to hide that any longer.”

“Fine,” I clenched my teeth and wiggled my nose a little. I was having a hard time not touching my pussy while Jeff got more and more familiar with it.

“Your mom sometimes has visitors that I send to the house that she sexually entertains,” Peter said.

“Yeah, we know,” Jeff shrugged.

“You knew?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, it’s not hard to figure out what happens when a guy comes over, and she takes him up to your room for about half an hour. He comes down with his pants unzipped, his hair all messed up, and smiles. He walks out the door,” Jeff grinned wickedly.

I didn’t know they knew that either. Ellie and Jeff had never mentioned it when I had visitors. I tried to be discreet about it around them.

“You won’t have to watch or anything, but we aren’t hiding it, either. You’ll be responsible for your mother while you are a groom if I am not home. That means protecting her and guiding her, and she won’t have privacy while she is Vixen, so you will have access to our room.”

My husband looked up at me and said that I would never again demand privacy from any of the three people in this room again. I nodded politely and slowly to indicate that I understood.

“I need to know what sort of ponygirl Dancer wants to be. I have told them that you are one sort,” he said to me before turning to Ellie and Jeff to ensure they were paying attention. Ellie was standing at attention in full pony regalia while her brother continued to explore my slick pussy. He was making no secret about getting a finger inside of me. It wasn’t unpleasant.

“You did not start out this way. I did not share you with many other men when we began your training. I need to know if Ellie intends to be a teaser or a pleaser. I had one of my best friends for years proposition me to fuck my daughter, and every fatherly instinct in my body told me that was not happening. Then I watched Jeff masturbate her asshole and found out that not only is she very sexually experienced, but she has been fucking Jeff regularly.”

I should have expected that, but it still surprised me a little that Jeff and Ellie were fucking regularly as brother and sister.

“God, this is so embarrassing, Peter! You could have warned me before we had this conversation,” I wasn’t sure what to say. I would have preferred that Peter, and I spoke about this before we involved the kids in making this kind of choice.

The cat was out of the bag now about me fucking anyone my husband told me to have sex with. There was no putting it back in.

“We could have had endless conversations to prepare, but since we are beginning Dancer’s training today in preparation for Camp Crucible, we are just laying all the cards out on the table. Every one of our friends and neighbors knows you will squash a dick if I tell you to sit on it. Jeff and Ellie aren’t naïve. They will find out either through rumors and innuendo, or we can just tell them up front.”

Peter wasn’t making excuses. He was just explaining to me the reality that it was time to tell them everything.

“I could have waited a day, a week, three weeks, but eventually, at Camp Crucible, they would see that you get stabled in the barn, and you become a free-use slut there.”

“What’s a free-use slut, Dad?” Jeff asked as he stroked my pussy, and began to let his pinky wander around my asshole. I was aghast; I couldn’t speak, I was so mortified. I wasn’t sure if it was the realization that Peter knew exactly what Jeff was doing and didn’t stop her, or that I knew exactly what Jeff was doing and didn’t stop him, or the fact that now they knew my really dirty little secret – that I was a free-use whore at BDSM events.

“I am getting to that, Jeff. How is it coming, son? I think you’ve finished with Vixen’s cunt,” he suggested that my son stop patting that part of me dry and move on because he was lingering.

“She’s still wet, Dad. The more I dry it, the wetter it gets,” Jeff said as if he didn’t understand that my pussy was getting soaked BECAUSE he was touching it.

“Vixen is a squirter, son. Rub her cunt too long, and she’ll spray on you. Just move on. Don’t forget to dry between her butt cheeks and between her toes,” he said and noted that he was just playing with me now.

I was standing there crimson while my husband revealed intimate secrets to our family, and my son blatantly copped a feel of his own mother.

“Free-use sluts are women who have consented to not consent, I know that probably sounds a little confusing,” Peter explained. “Your mom is only free use when I decide to allow it. At Camp Crucible, there is a place called “The Barn” and you are going to hear people refer to it with a heady sort of excitement because it’s basically a place where almost anything goes.”

My pulse was racing. The barn was an actual barn with hay on the ground, that smelled of sex and shit, and women could actually be placed in stalls and bound.

“At certain designated times, the ponygirls that are bound up in the barn are free to use by anyone that wants to use them. There is no hole that is off limits; there is no position or sex act that is off limits. The women don’t discriminate. They’ll fuck anyone who wants to fuck them. It’s first come, first serve. No one can do anything crazy, like try to brand them or cut their skin. A little rough sex is allowed, but it doesn’t get much rougher than some light choking and hair pulling.”

I scanned my kid’s faces. They seemed a little surprised and perplexed, but neither of them was freaking out or suddenly having a change of heart.

“Your mother didn’t become free-use overnight. It took a lot of sweat and training to get her to the point that she could fuck all night. She’s very pretty and very popular in the barn, and she will sometimes have thirty or forty sex partners in a row. When you come to Camp Crucible with us, you are likely to hear about it from someone who wants to thank her for the good time. I don’t want that to be the first time you learn about it.”

That did make sense and now the dirty secret was out of the bag.

[EddieDavidson]

“Stand Down, Dancer,” Peter said to our daughter. She had started to get antsy. She didn’t want to stand quietly while Peter ignored her and spoke primarily to Jeff and Me. He knew she had been listening. “I want you to listen to me now. I am going to remove your bridle, but you will only speak when I permit it. Understood?”

It took effort to speak around the gag and came with a lot of humiliating spitting and lisping. She remained quiet, but she looked desperate to speak to her father. Her big brown eyes were gleaming as she stared straight ahead. She opened her mouth wider so that her father could disconnect the bridle and remove the black leather bar that ran between her lips.

“You don’t know anything about ponygirl training other than what you have seen me and your mother do. You’ve also seen your grandmother when we visited your mother’s parents. You’ve seen pony carts and the basics, but you don’t know all of my expectations. You don’t know how exacting and demanding that I can be. You don’t know what service and submission requires of you. You don’t know the mindset that is required to put yourself second and get joy from performing for others. I know this, so tell me BRIEFLY why I should begin your training?”

“I can’t learn unless you train me, and I want to do it all, everything! I have for a long time, Daddy!”

Peter stopped her with the Stand command again. She spread her legs, set her feet in place, and looked straight.

“I said Stand Down so I could ask you a question, not so you could start making promises with your ass that you may not be able to cash, Dancer!” Peter admonished her.

Dancer whinnied once, accepting his admonishing words.

“Stand Down but do not speak until I gesture to you, and remember, keep it shorter than a book! The question is, what sort of ponygirl do you want to be? You’re only 18. You are fresh out of high school and should be preparing for college. Is this something you just want to do for a few weeks over the summer? Or are you looking to make this a lifestyle?”

He paused to let that question sink in.

“I don’t know, Daddy,” Dancer appeared very naïve to me at that moment, and I think Peter felt that way as well. She had a look of immaturity on her face. I realized she hadn’t thought about that question.

“I spent a great deal of money to outfit you tonight. I showed you the respect of accepting your chosen pony name. If I am going to invest my time in you, how do I know that you won’t change your mind the first time you chafe your ass and decide it’s too hard?”

“You are right, Daddy. I can’t promise something that I do not know.”

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said so far. You do not know. We’ll have regular check-ins weekly. I will evaluate your performance and set goals for you. If I decide to pull the plug on this, then that’s the end of it. If you become a brat and provide attitude, become a lazy pony, or any of the many bad habits that I’ve seen girls bring into this lifestyle with them, then we are done. I won’t be giving second chances, and I don’t want you to beg me. You’ll have plenty of advanced warning that you needed to make changes, but once I say we are done, then we are done.”

Ellie made a ploothffff sound with her lips and nodded.

“By that same token, I want you to evaluate me as your Trainer, I want you to evaluate Jeff as your Groom, AND your mother as your partner. You will tell me us what we did well, what we did that you did not like, and what you think we need to do more of, WHEN I give you permission during a family meeting.”

Ellie smiled broadly.

“You will be trained together with your mother as a team often. You’ll learn to rely on each other and work together. If I find out that you are giving your brother or your mom attitude or are not able to work with them, I will give you an attitude adjustment, but ultimately, I may decide it is not worth my time. You will have to EARN my time and attention through excellent behavior. Remember, you asked ME to train you, and I do not have any desire to waste my time on someone who will not learn or give their all while they are in pony mode.”

Ellie nodded demurely.

“You will not have a boyfriend without my explicit approval,” he added.

I don’t think Ellie was ready for her father to drop that last condition on her. Her eyes got large for a moment as if it wasn’t something she’d considered, but I understood Peter’s reasoning. If Ellie were to be a ponygirl with a trainer and a groom, a boyfriend would be out of the question as not being worth the possible drama.

“May I ask a question before I answer?” Ellie managed to keep her response short.

“Go ahead. I’m not trying to be mean. I just want to keep things moving,” Peter told her.

I was being distracted by Jeff, and it was getting harder and harder to stay focused on my husband and daughter. Jeff was patting me with the towel in one hand and tickling my sphincter with the other in a most un-son-like manner. It was obvious to me that he was being naughty and taking advantage of his father’s focus on his sister.

His long fingers strayed away from my back and legs and returned to my cunt lips from behind. It was very distracting. I didn’t say anything because I was in pony mode. However, I wanted to turn and tell him that his father had already told him to move on from my pussy.

“You said I have to choose what kind of ponygirl that I want to be. Are the choices a teaser or a pleaser?”

Peter seemed amused by her question. “There are many kinds of ponygirls, Dancer. I won’t mince words, though. Yes, I need to know if you want your training to be non-sexual or not. I know that is hard to answer without going through it all, but I need to know where your head is. At a minimum, you will be cropped on intimate body parts, spanked, touched, tapped, brushed, and that may feel sexual. I would go so far as to say that a good massage like your mother is getting, aftercare body oil, or masturbating to be able to take a pony plug could fall under non-sexual by my definition.”

Ellie seemed meek, perhaps a little confused.

“If you were to choose sexual, then dildo harnesses would be introduced slowly, and you would have to fuck yourself on them regularly. It would be kinky but not extreme.”

“If I chose non-sexual training, would I still be able to fuck Jeff when I am not in pony mode?” Ellie asked.

I was surprised by how plainly she made it clear that she wanted to fuck her brother.

“I hadn’t thought about that, Womble,” Peter scratched his chin, and addressed his daughter by her childhood nickname. “I would like to control your ability to receive pleasure, so I would say no, not without permission.”

“And if I choose sexual training, would I get to ride both of your cocks the same way Vixen would?” She asked without embarrassment, as though every teenage girl could expect her brother and father to want to fuck her.

“I haven’t decided if Jeff can use your mother that way, and I am not interested in incest,” Peter assured her. He seemed to be choking a little on his words. I am sure he never imagined he’d be having this conversation with his daughter when he was bouncing her on his knee as a little girl.

“I don’t mind if you call it incest. I used to give him baths when he was younger and babysat him. I always knew he had a pretty cock. One day, I taught him how to use it, and in exchange, I required him to spank me the way I liked. That led to me blowing him for favors, and eventually, I got horny and started fucking his brains out.”

I had no idea about this. It sounded like it had been going on for a long time.

“I had boyfriends who were on the kinky side, but none of them were interested in spanking and ponygirl-type stuff. Jeff was always there when I needed a good dicking, and it was just sex, Daddy. I am terrified of being celibate.”

Well, my daughter and I had that in common. I loved sex and liked to fuck as often as Peter would allow it.

“You were dating a Football player recently, weren’t you?”

“Sure,” she replied casually, perhaps forgetting her role as a pony entirely.

“You cheated on your boyfriend while you were dating him?”

“We kind of had an open relationship. I didn’t tell him I fuck my little brother, if that is what you are asking, Sir,” Ellie brought her shoulders back and adjusted her attitude to sound more formal.

“I ... okay, you’ve caught me by surprise, Dancer,” Peter admitted.

I was shocked despite myself. I thought I was nonjudgmental. I thought I was a happy little whore, but Ellie’s casual attitude about sex made me feel like I was a goody-two-shoes.

I would never have considered screwing Jeff. He’s my son, and she just casually admitted to fucking his brains out and suggested fucking her father while he trained her.

It dawned on me why Jeff had treated me like a slut. He was lifting my tits by my nipples, touching my thighs, running his fingers between my cunt lips, bumping my clit, and causing erotic shivers to race through me while his father and sister stood only a foot away.

I realized that Jeff had been pretending to be naïve when he acted like he didn’t know why I was getting wetter the more that he touched me, and I felt silly that I hadn’t caught on.

We’d put so much effort into hiding the true scope of our kinky fetishes, yet our own kids had accepted that fucking each other was simply fun and weren’t embarrassed to admit it.

Jeff was even now casually tickling my cunt with the back of his head while he knelt before me. I won’t pretend I kept my legs together and didn’t like the feel of his bristly hair on my bald pussy. I don’t know if he was doing it by intention, but I straddled his head, and almost sat down on it, with my legs spread apart while ran his fingertips down my thighs and gave me goosebumps, occasionally looking up at my pussy as if he was thinking about giving me a lick! That was quite a naughty thought for a mother to have! He was supposed to be patting my feet dry to finish Peter’s order to dry me off. However, he took his time and really savored touching me and exploring my feet. I didn’t mind that one bit!

“Jeff. Are you trying to get your mom off?” Peter asked, suddenly calling him out. I thought he’d been totally focused on Ellie.

“Sure, Dad. Mom’s hot, and she obviously doesn’t mind,” he admitted.

That was the thing that had bothered me, and I hadn’t been able to identify it. I didn’t mind! That was what was wrong! Jeff’s my SON! He was just toying with me so casually. It’s what made me uncomfortable when he’d massaged me last time after Peter’s training.

“Then just suck his dick, Vixen,” Peter sighed. “He’s obviously horny, and he’s into you. It’s nothing his sister hasn’t already done for him.”

I was shocked by how quickly my husband had changed his tune on incest.

“That’s what I was getting at earlier. There is a familiarness with being a groom, and a good groom is rewarded with blowjobs by ponies after he works them hard. Trainers will usually offer their groom a chance to fuck their ponies. I have never thought twice about it when I’ve had a groom at events in the past. I was concerned that it was going to be awkward at Camp Crucible when he saw all the other grooms getting head and thought of you as his mother and Dancer as his sister.”

Jeff was already on his feet, dropping his shorts. Sure enough, he had a boner, although this time was the first time I was seeing it as a cock rather than just a part of my son. I had been told to suck my own son’s cock. I usually never hesitated to blow anyone. I’d give head to fat guys, old men, ugly guys, mean guys, smelly guys. I’ve sucked micro-dicks, and big fat cocks that choked me.

This was different. Jeff had come out of my body. He was my son. I was about to cross a threshold that I could never have imagined crossing.

“I do not want to ruin our family dynamic with jealousy and sexuality. I want us to be able to play minigolf as a family and not make it about fetish and just have fun. I want us to be able to sit across from each other at the dinner table and talk about the same things we always talk about and not be focused on sexual pleasure. At the same time, you both have already come to know each other that way and you did it right under our noses.”

Jeff’s cock was now right under MY nose, and I opened my mouth and began to lovingly slurp on the tip. He placed his hands on my ears and cradled my head. I liked it when guys did that. I was able to turn off my brain a little and just be a dick sucker.

“Listen up, ladies,” Peter said while I went down on Jeff’s schlong. I felt I could taste my daughter’s pussy on his dick.

I immediately released Jeff’s cock so I could pay attention. In a way, that was a relief. Knowing I had my son’s cock in my mouth was embarrassing enough. I had sucked so many cocks in my life that I rarely even thought about it as an imposition. I enjoyed giving head almost as much as I loved a rough fuck.

However, I felt guilty and disgusted with myself for being such an openly naughty mom around my son. Jeff didn’t seem to care that I dropped his cock out of my mouth, and he looked over at his father to see what he had to say.

“Keep sucking, Vixen,” Peter insisted I could do both. I almost whimpered as I took him back into my mouth.

My son’s penis, with its fluffy orange pubes, is above average, and I could immediately tell Ellie had decided to go further than ‘just’ blowing him, but he’s still my son, and giving him head in our bedroom just seemed so wrong. Still, I’m well-trained. I shut off that part of my brain and did as I had been told. I knew it’d eat at me later, but for now, I’ll do what I was told.

“We’re going to have to have some ground rules. For years, I’ve only trained Vixen fully while your kids are not around. I need to know what is and isn’t a hard limit for both of you,” Peter started.

“How can you not know what mom’s limits are, Dad?” Jeff asked, stifling a groan of delight at what I was doing to him.

“I mean your sister and you, son. There are probably things I can’t expect you to do to Vixen, and your sister would probably balk at them. For example, at some rodeos, there is an open pit for the ponygirls to use as a bathroom. Some ponygirls see that as beyond a hard limit for them, and instead, their groom has to bag their waste. I don’t know if Dancer will voluntarily use the pit or if I need you as her groom to bag her waste.”

“Ew! I am NOT picking up shit, Dad!” Jeff announced in no uncertain terms while gripping my head and steadily feeding his dick to me. “Dancer can use the pit!”

“Will I have to stand on doodie?” Ellie asked, suddenly looking a little pale.

Peter couldn’t have chosen a better starting point if he’d tried. Not many ponygirl rodeos had open pit latrines for the ponygirls to use, but there had been a fair few over the years.

“So, a hard limit is standing in poop?” Peter asked.

“If you’re giving me the choice, then yes!” Ellie replied, shuddering.

“And it sounds like it is for you, too, Jeff. I’ll keep that in mind. Sometimes, you’ll both be doing things you really don’t want to, though. How’s Vixen’s mouth, son?”

“Mom’s way better at this than Dancer, Dad! I mean, Dancer’s good, but wow! Mom could give lessons!”

“It’s Vixen when she’s got your dick in her mouth, Jeff. Remember that. We still need to determine your other limits and to give you an example, I’ll start with some of mine. I own Vixen. She’s mine. Jeff, you will never give her orders unless you’re speaking for me or I’ve specifically loaned her to you. Is that clear?”

“Sure, Dad, I’d never...” Peter cut him off.

“When Vixen got home, you told her to get naked, remember? That’s not your call. You are to continue showing respect. You ask politely, even if you know you’re going to be reaming her ass or disciplining her later. Mine is mine. If I’m going to be Dancer’s trainer, that respect extends to Dancer now, too.”

“But Dancer told me that I can fuck her whenever I want!” Jeff whined.

“Why?” Peter asked mildly.

“Why what, dad? She said I could!”

“Do you know WHY Dancer gave you that first BJ or said she’ll fuck you?” Peter clarified.

“Yeah, she wanted me to convince you to let me be a groom and her be a ponygirl!”

“And did you and Dancer get what you both wanted?” Peter prompted.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jeff groaned, but I think that had more to do with the suction I was applying than the realization that his deal with his sister was complete.

“Then you agree that the deal has benefitted you, but as a groom, you’re responsible for the trainer’s property. What’s my property?” Peter asked, leading Jeff down the logic trail to reach the same conclusion Peter had already reached.

“Mom ... I mean, Vixen and Dancer?”

“You don’t sound sure, son. Are you about to cum?”

“Soon. Really soon!”

“Then you’ll be cumming in my property’s mouth. Later, you’ll be helping me train my property, and it’ll be your job to ensure you impress me with your willingness and dedication to your task. Afterward, your responsibility will include the girls’ aftercare.”

“Cumming, Dad!” Jeff blurted even as he began pumping spunk into my mouth.

“Don’t swallow, Vixen!” Peter ordered.

That was easier said than done. Jeff had face fucked me for a few seconds before cumming, and his cock had let loose on an instroke pumping his cream directly into my throat. I did my best. This felt so surreal. I was getting hot jism slammed into my mouth as I knelt in front of my son and being told to not to swallow it!

“Dancer, would you get it on with another girl for your trainer’s pleasure?” Peter asked our daughter. At that moment, I knew why my master had told me not to swallow.

“I’m not a lezzie, Sir,” Ellie sounded insulted that he would ask that, and her tone conveyed her displeasure at the thought.

I had to smile just a little. A tiny bit of my son’s jizz leaked out the corner of my mouth. My daughter had a lot to learn if she was serious about being a ponygirl, especially the way she spoke to her trainer. He wasn’t asking her to insult him with the manner of her answer.

“Neither is Vixen, and that’s not what I asked, Dancer! If you were a trained ponygirl and not an ignorant Foal, I’d whip the piss out of you for talking to me like that! Try again!”

“Sorry, Sir! I just don’t have any interest in sexing it up with another girl, and there are two cocks here that I could play with, and I’ve got a mouth and cunt that you could put your dick in, so why would I want to get freaky with another girl?”

“I’m really going to have to work with you on learning to keep your answers concise, Dancer. It was a yes or no question,” Peter said calmly, showing that he hadn’t really been angry about Ellie’s initial answer but had been putting her in her place as her trainer.

“Sorry, Sir. No,” she tried again.

“Then I reject you as a Foal,” Peter said, sounding somewhat relieved.

“What!? But you said,” Ellie sounded desperate when she realized that Peter wasn’t just going to accept her for training because she wanted to be trained. “You said you’d train me!”

“I said I’d train a Foal who sounded desperate to please her trainer and did everything that I expected of her. You just said you do not want to provide for my pleasure, and you were very rude about it as well. Of course, I’m not going to train a selfish bitch!”

“I never said that, Dad! I said I’d do anything to get trained, and I know there’s sex, and I don’t even care what guy it’s with, and I’m just not interested in sex with girls, and I don’t WANT to have sex with bitches, even other ponygirls!”

“Stand!” Peter bellowed at Ellie. “That verbal diarrhea is going to fucking stop!” Ellie bit her lip, and Peter took a moment to compose himself before continuing.

“I was calmly ascertaining your limits. What you will and won’t do. I don’t train crazy bitches, and that’s what you were acting like. You are acting like a silly little girl who plays games with her whims and wishes. You didn’t even answer the question I asked at first, and then when you did, you said you would not cater to my pleasure. I don’t train bitches who don’t care about the trainer’s pleasure.”

Peter sounded stone cold. It was really quite frightening.

Ellie whinnied and stomped her booted foot to get her father’s attention.

“Okay, one last chance. Stand Down,” Peter finally allowed.

“I’m sorry, Dad! I ... I guess I misunderstood the question!” Ellie did sound contrite. I’ll give her that.

“The question was, would you be intimate with another woman for MY pleasure? That’s not a difficult question,” Peter assured her.

“I’ll do anything for your pleasure, Sir!” Ellie assured him.

Peter looked at Ellie standing at attention, but it was like he was looking INTO her. Eventually, he made a decision. “You should be careful with the checks you are writing with your ass because you may be expected to cash them and soon. You will do ANYTHING?”

“Anything, sir!” she repeated with confidence.

“You either have a very limited imagination or a death wish,” Peter replied dourly. “You have no concept of just how hard I might push you if I knew you would comply with every desire and wish I could dream up.”

“Let me put it this way: I would like to try anything Vixen would do!”

I was flattered that Ellie was so willing to do that.

“Vixen. Go to Dancer and share Jeff’s cum with her. You know what to do. Teach her.”

“Yes ... Master,” I replied, garbling the words a little since I had cum in my mouth and was still a little uncomfortable calling Peter that in front of my kids.

I got up and high-stepped over to Ellie despite not being in my regalia. I paused, gathering myself. It was, after all, Ellie. She stood there looking at me warily. We were eye to eye since she had her heeled boots on.

I leaned forward and saw her eyes close as our mouths got closer. I could see she knew I was going to kiss her, and she was preparing herself even as she tilted her head to one side. Our open lips came together, and she tensed up but didn’t pull away. I used my tongue to feed her the cum I was storing. She let me invade her mouth with my tongue ad deposit it on her tongue. I expected her to spit it back in my mouth, and then I’d pass it to her again, but she didn’t do that, at least not right away.

I felt her whole-body shiver, though only our open mouths touched. After a few moments of having Jeff’s cum in her mouth, she began to return it to me, and I felt her tongue touch mine. My first tongue kiss with my daughter was while transferring my son’s cum between each other.

Peter called our kiss off after a while. It could have been a minute, or it could have been ten full minutes. I lost track of time. I have no idea.

What I do know is that my daughter knows how to kiss, and it was more pleasurable than I had expected. Certainly, much more pleasurable for me than many of the women I’ve done that with in the past.

“So, you clearly got into that with Vixen, Dancer. Your assertion that you could never have sex with a girl has now been proven invalid, and I may enjoy seeing you do that again,” Peter said.

“May I say something, Sir?” Ellie asked.

“Sure. But no diatribes! Keep it short,” he reminded her.

“I ... I think ... I liked that. It’s not really sex, but I could imagine sex happening. Can I kiss mo ... Vixen like that whenever I want, now?”

“No. Absolutely not. You need to understand that as your Trainer, I’m responsible for you. While Vixen is mine 24/7, and I can order her to perform at a moment’s notice, you, on the other hand, are my daughter first, a Foal second, and only when it’s established that we’re training will you be given tasks you’ll either enjoy or hate but will do or suffer the consequences.”

“I want to do this all the time, though! You can train me anytime you want, and you and Jeff can fuck me whenever you feel like it.”

“No. That’s not how this works. Although I need your permission to train you, I’m not going to ask for consent every time. In fact, have you ever heard of topping from the bottom? Jeff, have you?” Peter asked both of his children.

Jeff had been sitting on the bed with his shorts still around his ankles where he’d collapsed after his blowjob. His erection was back after having watched me and his sister kiss.

Ellie hesitantly nodded her head, but Jeff said no while managing to sound confused with just that one word.

“I just said I wouldn’t ask Dancer’s permission every time I want to train her. I also said I’m not going to train her 24/7. I have a daughter I love and want to treat as a daughter, too. On the other side of the coin, there’s the Foal Dancer, who wants to learn all about being a ponygirl right now. If I give her what she wants, that’s her making the rules, not me. I just made it clear she’s not getting her way. Letting her have her way in opposition to what I want would be allowing her to do what’s called Topping from the bottom.”

“So, Ell ... Dancer has no say?” Jeff asked, hitting the nail on the head with his question.

“She does, and this is a bit of a one-sided negotiation. I make the rules. I set the terms and conditions. She has soft and hard limits, and she needs to identify them. This is new to me. Years ago, I had a woman who wanted to be my ponygirl and move in with us. I rejected her because I thought it would be too weird around you kids.”

Cecilia. I remembered her. She was a stripper and kind of sketchy, but she had a hot pussy.

“Now, I am considering my own daughter, and we will develop a way of communicating the fact that she’s reached some sort of limit. I wanted to begin with things that she knows for sure now. She’s already fucked you, so we know incest is not a limit for her. She seems to be open to learning protocols and wearing pony plugs, but I’ve yet to see her pain tolerance and ability to accept discipline.”

Jeff was about to vouch for his sister’s ability to soak up pain, but Peter stopped him. “I mean MY forms of discipline, Son.”

That was fair. Jeff was still learning himself, and he didn’t spank very hard from what I could tell.

“We’ve just scratched the surface, talking about some of the basic expectations of a ponygirl.”

“Okay, but when she’s training, she has no say?” Jeff clarified. He seemed to be speaking for his sister’s interests.

To Peter’s credit, he didn’t get angry with Jeff. I’d very clearly heard Peter say Dancer would learn to communicate her limits. “I will provide you with a safe word, Dancer. I want you to say Scarlet if something is a hard limit. It means that you cannot do it and will not do it. It’s not a ripcord that you can pull anytime you want to jump out of the plane and land somewhere else. It’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card either.”

My daughter and Jeff were clearly confused by my husband’s explanation. He and I have been in the lifestyle for so long that the concept of safe words is passe’ to us and understood by most in the community without added explanation.

“Let’s say you have hurt your knee by jumping, and you cannot continue trotting. That would be grounds for saying Scarlet. If you have a bit in your mouth, I usually provide another means to communicate, such as a rubber ball that you will have in your hand, pussy or asshole, and you must drop it on the ground.”

“Wow!” Jeff seemed overwhelmed.

“I know that we’ve talked a lot without doing anything, and I plan to start some basic training, but let me get through the boundaries discussion first, “Peter could empathize with his son. At this point, Jeff was just stroking my thigh while he listened to his father and no longer really paying attention to my body.

“If there is something hard that you just don’t want to do, such as heavy exercises involving weights, and you use the Scarlet safe word, then that is a big no-no,” Peter spoke directly to our daughter. “If your excuse is you just do not like doing it, that’s you topping from the bottom. I want you to try and do it to the best of your ability, EVEN if it is uncomfortable, Dancer. At the end of the week, or when we review as a family, I’ll ask you to tell me some of the things that made you uncomfortable about your training and we will determine where your boundaries truly are located.”

My daughter made a plooth sound with her tongue to indicate she understood. Peter smiled because Ellie could have just spoken plainly.

“If there is something that makes you REALLY uncomfortable, and you just want me or our groom to know you don’t feel comfortable, then I want you to say Amber. It could be that you’ve reached a point when you feel you can’t take any more stretching of your nipples or labia. We won’t necessarily stop, but I’ll be working with Jeff so that he knows when to work you hard, and when to cut you some slack.”

“Can I still speak freely, Daddy?”

“Yes, but as Dancer, I want you to address me as Sir or Master, or in mixed company with other Masters when we are in Camp Crucible, as Trainer Peter.”

“Yes, Sir. I want to give a Scarlet to that.”

“To what?”

“To safety words. I don’t want to be a topper from the bottom, and it sounds like you are telling me after all of that stuff about making my own rules, that you want to give me a special keyword to say whenever I feel yucky or poopy about something and you guys have to adjust. I’ve NEVER seen Vixen EVER use a word, or even carry a little ball around with her.”

Peter looked up at me with an expression that suggested he was proud of her. “Dancer really IS your daughter, that’s for sure, Vixen,” he assured me. Then he turned back to her and sighed.

“First of all, it’s top from the bottom, and not topper from the bottom. It’s safe word and not safety word, got it?”

“Ploootthfttt” she nodded her understanding.

Peter wiped a little of his daughter’s accidental spit from his shoulder, and then regarded her for a few moments carefully before speaking. He often made me wait for what he had to say. It was a real power move, and it heightened my anticipation to hang on every word he said.

“I am not ASKING you if you want safety words, God-damnit, Ellie. Now you’ve got me saying it. Safe words. They are part of a safe, sane, consensual BDSM relationship that is healthy. You are quite right about your mother. She’s experienced, and her pain and sexual tolerance is quite high. You won’t see her use safe words around me because, as her husband and Trainer, I know instinctively when your mother has had enough and how far to push her. However, Jeff does not. I haven’t gotten to your mother’s role and new rules yet.”

I sucked in a little air. I didn’t know things were changing for me even further.

“Yes, obviously things are changing for all of us, Vixen,” Peter heard my deep breath and assumed that my anxiety about change was kicking in.

“I am glad you do not want to use the words. It should be a last resort and not something you go into the sessions planning to use. It is, however, going to be there for you, in such case that you actually need it. You’ve played at ponygirl training, but now you are mine, which means that I will train you properly. I want you to have those options if you need them. It’s not optional, and it’s not up to you whether you have safe words or do not. Your little brother also isn’t as experienced as me, and will need some way to know when he’s gone too far.”

“Oh, he knows!” she looked at Jeff knowingly.

“She slaps the snot out of me when I get too rough,” Jeff joked.

“That ends immediately,” Peter took their jest quite seriously. “The entire point of the power exchange between groom and pony, or trainer and pony, is that you are not in control, and that means you do not retaliate. Anything Jeff does to you while you are in pony mode will NOT be taken out on him while he is a groom or when he is just your ordinary little brother!” Jeff demanded that they both understand that.

I already knew that Jeff wasn’t going to just be an ordinary little brother any longer after tonight.

“The safe words are going to help him to understand when he has pushed you a little too far, or when there is a genuine safety concern that needs to be checked. If that happens, full-stop, the fantasy ends immediately and we deal with an injury or a cut, or something that could be quite serious if you keep training.”

“Yes, Daddy, I mean Master.”

Hearing my daughter call her father Master for the first time sent the heebie-jeebies down my spine. I’ve said it countless times, never around my kids and now hearing the daughter that I raised say it was quite surreal and I wasn’t prepared to hear it.

“At least you didn’t spit on me that time,” Peter said.

“Now, Jeff, for you, the same thing applies. I want you to tell me if there is something that you are required to do that makes you feel uncomfortable, or you just can’t do it. You don’t have to say Scarlet or Amber. We’ll be talking daily, and you’ll provide a full report on the girl’s progress.”

“Yes, sir!”

Peter grinned. “You don’t have to call me Master, but Trainer Peter, or Sir is appropriate respect for a groom to give a trainer. I am still going to call you, Jeff. Now, I am going to do something that may seem a little cruel.”

Jeff remained silent.

“I am going to give you a very wide berth to be autonomous with the girls over the next week. You are home from school, and your sister graduated high school. I have to work. I want you to train your mother and sister without my constant supervision and standing over you.”

“Wow, thanks Dad! I mean Sir”

Peter nodded and said he was glad that Jeff appreciated that freedom.

“I know from what I have seen that you have a fairly good idea of the basics, and tonight I’ll go over more of that. We are going to start SLOWLY this week. I want everyone to understand that by slow, I mean we focus on just the simple basics. That means a lot of what you do will be repetition and mundane supervision of ponygirls. I am not going to throw you in the deep-end and expect you to swim, Jeff.”

It was Jeff’s turn to nod, although I noticed a slight disappointment spread across Ellie’s pretty face.

“Your mother will help you understand what is expected of you. I want you to listen to her and defer to her judgment. I am not sure how this is going to work exactly because, ultimately, you are the decision-maker. Think of her as more of an advisor. She isn’t going to set you up to fail. We both want you to be successful.”

“I appreciate your trust in me, Master!” I added.

Peter snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. He told me to do 20 push-ups on the carpet of my bedroom. “Tits and nose to the carpet! What did you do wrong, Vixen?”

“Spoke when not spoken to, Master?” I said as I got to the ground. Peter rarely punished me with push-ups, but it had built up my muscles. I had to perform very deep push-ups with my nose and nipples pressing against the carpet, remain for a full second, and then lift myself up.

“Good, Jeff, I don’t want you to abuse this privilege, but you may send your sister or mother to the corner for up to 10 minutes, or give them 10 push-ups just like this if they talk out of turn without permission. A good pony never speaks when gagged or bridled without permission unless it’s an emergency. The ponies may ASK permission to speak when not gagged or bridled, and it will be up to you. Obviously, in your mom’s case, since she may have valuable advice, I expect you to give it to her within reason.”

I was blushing as I counted push-ups in whispers. This was so embarrassing!

“You’ll be getting the girls up, washing them, making sure they have their morning ablutions, ensuring they eat. However, it’s not all pony training. Your mother can wear her light regalia and clean the house, and Ellie can help. I assume this will only take about two hours. You may formally dismiss the girls from service once all the chores and mundane activities are completed. Traditionally, a groom can select one of the ponies he groomed for that session to reward him with a blowjob. I’ll go so far as to let you order whoever finishes you off to kiss it into the other pony’s mouth before dismissal is over.”

“Permission to speak, Master?” Ellie asked daintily as I rose from my push-ups.

“Yes, Dancer?”

“Two hours doesn’t sound like a lot to prepare me for Camp Crucible. Is there any after care?”

“You shouldn’t need aftercare for a VERY light two-hour session with your brother. I’ll allow some hugging and caressing if you want for a few minutes after it is over, but Jeff isn’t required to provide aftercare for these sessions. I don’t want him doing anything on his own heavy enough to require it.”

Ellie suppressed her disappointment. “I know you said that it’s topping from the bottom for a pony to make requests, but as I see it this is a little bit of a negotiation of expectations, and you have final say. Can we bump it up to six hours?”

“SIX HOURS?” Peter was flabbergasted that she would ask for that much. “You need to have a life outside of being saddled and trained. You will not be permitted to have a boyfriend OR a girlfriend, but you can still go places, hang out with your friends, SEARCH FOR A JOB OR COLLEGES,” Peter suggested. “I want us to have family time too. If you are exhausted from a full day of training, then that’s really all there is. It’s a lot to put on Jeff’s shoulders as well. I want to mentor and guide all of you, and we may have sessions in the evenings, definitely on weekends, but this is more of a maintenance session, Womble; sorry, I mean Dancer,” Jeff corrected.

He wasn’t the type to never admit that he was wrong. He corrected his mistake of calling his daughter Womble instead of Dancer. “When your session is over, go back to normal. Jeff is Jeff, you are Ellie or Womble, and your Mom is Mom. I am just Dad. The only difference is I own my wife and now my daughter. I’ve always been responsible for both of you. My one restriction is no sex without my permission for either of you.”

Ellie reminded him politely about the timeline to attend Camp Crucible and the need to be prepared. She implied that more time every day should be put in to be well-trained, without seeming pushy. I was really pleased because Ellie had a tendency to run off at the mouth when she got excited. She was really trying to watch her words around her father.

“This is Jeff’s vacation from school. He may have other shit to do than play with the two of you.”

“I think it’d be cool, Dad!”

“Okay, I’ll go so far as to say a minimum of two hours first thing in the morning, so that includes breakfast, and the basic pony routines. If Jeff wants to break it up during the day into a second two-hour session later, or go a full four hours, I will let him make that call.”

My husband didn’t ask me how I felt about it. I didn’t train as a pony daily and hadn’t done more than a few hours on weekends in a long time. I was a little apprehensive because it was going to be with Jeff and Ellie, but I was strangely excited as well by the prospect of more training. I think my husband anticipated how I would feel and decided for me.

“An important part of leading is that you can be second guessing yourself, Jeff. If you are constantly looking to me to provide you with a schedule and micromanage you, then you will never feel like you have any authority at all. This is a learning experience and an adjustment for all of you. I will stand behind you as long as I know you acted in good-faith and for the best interest of the ponies under your care.”

“Thanks, Sir!”

My husband wanted to take a break and then start the training. He asked if there were more questions first.

“What about sex with you and Jeff, Sf?”

Peter didn’t answer Ellie right away. “I need to think about that. I have no interest in fucking my daughter. I will tell you that right now. I usually fuck my ponies, but I have to resolve that. In the meantime, no midnight training with Jeff in private. No fucking or sucking without my permission. That’s a 24/7 rule – and it applies to anyone.”

“What about masturbating, Sir?” Ellie fired off the question as if she had it locked and loaded and ready to ask.

“I am not heartless Dancer. You can solo masturbate when you are not in pony mode, but I control your pussy, your mouth, your asshole. I need you to understand that I can even take away this privilege and that you accept this arrangement of your own free will, because you want to be trained as a pony. Submission is not about doing what gets YOU off, it’s about doing what your owner wishes, and if that includes sharing your time, your body, and your affection with others, then that is the owner’s prerogative.”

“I’m so down, thank you!! Permission to hug?”

Ellie was so excited that there was no way Peter couldn’t hug his daughter. She pressed her bare breasts into his chest and hugged him tightly.

“The rules will remain the same for you as they always have, Vixen,” Peter turned to me as if he were closing the final loop of the conversation for now. Your asshole, your tits, your cunt, your mouth, every part of your mind, body, and soul belongs to me. You established that a long time ago. I want you to speak now if you have a problem sharing yourself with Jeff as your groomer and Ellie as your partner in training?”

I know Jeff knew the answer, but I didn’t know if he was testing me, humbling me, or just curious to hear me verbally agree with his dad about my consent to allow him regular groom access.

“I know my place, Master.”

“I wanted to hear yes or no. At the end of the pony session tomorrow, I want you to offer your son a blowjob for a job well done. Do you have a problem with that, Yes or No?”

I could have been coy and asked if that was ALL I had to offer. I’ve never had a groom that didn’t take liberties as much as possible, and I usually ended up getting fucked in all three holes by the end of the session.

Naturally, I had my hesitation about giving my son full access to my body. I had already sucked his cock, and it wasn’t that bad. I preferred cock sucking to French kissing because it was far more personal and sensual. I had done that with Ellie, and I’d be kissing my son’s cum into her mouth, or she’d be doing it to me in the very near future. Peter had already given me my marching orders.

My main concern was that Jeff was still my son, and Ellie was still my daughter, and at times Jeff would be the boss of me. How would that work for his mother when I needed to tell him what to do around the house? Would he take me seriously as an authority figure? Ellie was my daughter, but I’d been full-on lovers with past ponies with whom I had been partnered. Would she see me as a mother or a lover? Could she see me as both?

I realized that everyone was waiting for an answer as I thought about the days and trials to come.

“Yes, master! Of course, I will suck my groom off, and anything else you tell me to do,” I replied. I don’t know why I added that last bit. I had already said it, though, and there was no reeling it back in.

[EddieDavidson]

Once the groundwork had been laid, and my husband was satisfied that we had all agreed to the rules, we focused on the actual ponygirl training, not just talking about it. That was the kind of stuff that I longed for, and so did Ellie.

Peter took charge of Ellie and was putting her through her paces downstairs.

He selected a riding crop and smartly slapped her on the back of the thighs, under her knees, and on her tits as he stepped her out of the room.

My husband had left my son to get me harnessed up and fitted in full pony regalia in our large walk-in closet that was dedicated to all things pony and bondage-related.

We had our vanilla clothes in another closet in the same room.

I wanted to say something to break the awkward silence between us as I showed my son around our walk-in closet. It was filled with old ponygirl stuff, collars, odds and ends, and bits and bobs of BDSM gear we had collected over the year. Dildos, whips, chains. He’d never been in this room.

I’d introduced Jeff’s sister to some old gear of mine, but this was my inner sanctum where all of my treasures and toys were. I politely gave him a little tour, and he silently nodded as if he were impatient to play with me.

“Master has given you full access, Sir. This is a good full harness set that will please your father,” I noted the chain harness that went around my tits and the features that allowed easy access to my body. He had no comment.

I thought calling my son Sir would be more difficult, but it felt more natural than calling him Jeff while dressed in my regalia. It was easier to think of him as “my groom” than it was to think of him as Jeff, my son – the one whose diaper I had changed only a few years earlier. The one I had taught to ride a bike. The one whose boo-boos I had kissed when he scraped his knee on that bike that I taught him to ride.

He helped me into the gear. I was perfectly capable of fitting myself out, but it’s proper etiquette to let the groom tighten the snaps and buckles. He had to learn somehow, and I was his training dummy. “You can attach weights to my nipples and my labia, Sir,”

I showed him some lightweight lead sinkers attached to custom-made clips that were designed with alligator clamps to bite into my tender flesh and make it hard to shake off. They are very sweat-resistant. He clipped the first one onto my nipple very high and at the tip.

“You can squeeze the nubs tightly and clip it lower toward the base once it’s engorged,” I told him the secret to making it really sting. Peter would know if I hadn’t if he inspected me, and I kind of liked them that way.

“Cool,” Jeff replied and roughly jammed a couple of fingers into my cunt without warning. I felt his fingers slide into me easily, and then he wriggled them roughly as if he were sticking his fingers into a Jell-O mold.

I gasped in surprise. It wasn’t uncommon for a groom to goose me like that, but I hadn’t expected Jeff to do it right then or so soon into my fitting.

If I hadn’t already been standing on my toes inside my hoof heels, I would have been up on them with the suddenness of his digital penetration. Luckily, I was well-lubricated already.

“Jeff, it’s okay if you want to play a little, but are you trying to get me turned on?” I neglected to call him Sir because, at that moment, I saw him as my son and not my groom. I felt uncomfortable, but I tried to remain collected and remind myself that he was acting as my groom and that this is what they do to ponies – especially at first, to get to know my style.

“Yeah! I remembered what you said when you showed us the rig, and I thought it would make things less distressing. I started doing it with Ellie, Uh, Dancer, when we practiced after that first day with you – two fingers in the pink, one in the stink.”

His pinky penetrated my asshole, but only slightly.

I was at a crossroads. I could treat my son like any other groom who wanted to play with me while dressing me out. I could roll my eyes and make him feel guilty because I was his Mom. I could even squeeze my cunt lips tightly around his fingers to show him how much pussy control that I had.

He was already fingering me, so I thought that it wouldn’t serve any purpose to suddenly guilt him into not playing with me. I squeezed his fingers tightly, and he smiled when he felt the pressure from my pussy.

“Can Dancer do that?”

“No, I don’t think so! Wow, Mom!” Jeff’s mind was officially blown. I love it when I suck a dick so well that a guy reacts that way. My mother always told me that men will put up with a lot of trifling bullshit from a woman if she can suck his dick so well that he doesn’t care.

I was getting wet, but suddenly. I felt a crash in the pit of my stomach when I heard the word, Mom. My skin crawled.

“You can play with me while I get dressed. I don’t want you to feel guilty or weird about it, but if you are trying to get me off, mash down on my clit.”

“Really? How hard?”

“Like you hate it and want to bust it open,” I admitted with a grin.

He pushed on my clit hood. “It feels like a snail’s back,” he scrunched his nose in disgust at how slimy I was.

“That’s my clitoral hood, Sir. Try lifting it up and pushing down on the little pink button underneath.”

“Oh, cool,” Jeff squatted down and examined me. “It looks like a little old man sitting in a boat!” he said as he smashed the old man as hard as he could with his thumb.

I groaned. “I had never heard my pussy described in those terms before, Sir,” I licked my lips a little. “You can pinch and flick it or even twist it like a knob. Please don’t try to yank it off, though. That doesn’t do anything for me, sir.”

“Is this about getting you off?”

“You said you wanted me aroused; I am just giving you a little instruction manual. Every cunt is different, and Ellie may react differently. If you want to yank on it, feel free. I have worn weights attached to my hood before, and it stings, but it doesn’t arouse me. Do you mind clipping the alligator clamp weights to my pussy lips nice and high? Yes, there. That’s good. You want to get them far enough up that there is enough meat that they won’t slide off.”

Jeff pressed his thumb into the top of my cunt, as he let the clamps bite into my pussy lips. The familiar sting sent a shiver through me. I made a little kissing sound as I savored the bite into my flesh. It felt like two tiny ants were on either side of my pussy, and they were both biting down on me with their stingers.

“If you are trying to masturbate me to orgasm, we might be here for a while, Jeff. I’ll give you a little secret. Hook the two fingers you pushed into me and try to find the little flap of flesh on the top by touch. Oh fuck, yes. That! Just like that! Just rub tiny circles like that. You don’t have to go fast or try to hurt me. Just keep it nice and steady. Thank you!”

“No, thank you, Mom! Dancer is more of a mystery. Her pussy is like a puzzle box, and you never know what will happen when you wind her one way and then the next day, you have to twist a dial a different way. This feels nice! You are really wet.”

“I am usually wet, Sir,” I replied to my son in the casual manner that I did with my past grooms in between training. I was usually gagged and forbidden to speak without permission during training. The times in between we’d talk freely.

He tickled my butt hole with his other fingers and noted how I puckered it. It happened so fast that I flinched. He chuckled and noted that he liked it when I crinkled it up tightly and clenched it in response to his touch.

I smiled over my shoulder at him and winked. I wasn’t sure what kind of signal I was sending to my son. I was used to being such a lusty slut that I couldn’t help myself. I batted my eyelashes at my son and silently encouraged him to play with me.

Oh God, was I creating a monster? Should I really be teaching my son to turn my screws? He’d been finger fucking me rapidly, which was doing nothing for me. I just thought it was better he learned how to work me than to keep treating me like a cherry pie he was testing the temperature of.

After he’d had his fun, he withdrew his fingers from my pussy, before I reached an orgasm. That was just as well. The anticipation turned me on even more. I could smell my pussy on his fingers. I hoped he would wash his hands before he accidentally licked my juices.

He bound my wrists behind my back and attached an armbinder. It was very simple, the kind that’s designed to lock my wrists in place high in the center of my back. There is a feeling of surrender that I cannot deny when I can no longer use my hands, and I have to rely on someone else to grab and do things for me. It’s somewhat intoxicating but something you have to try in order to appreciate. It’s a helpless feeling, but a familiar one that turns me on, which defies easy description.

Jeff selected a collar for me. It wasn’t my favorite bejeweled one, but rather, it was a posture collar with rings on either side to attach reins to. I decided not to offer any suggestions. He seemed to be doing just fine on his own, and I didn’t want to micromanage him any more than Peter did.

He attached the collar to my neck, noting that I should braid my hair like Ellie.

I had to remind him before we left that I needed a tail. He picked out a butt plug about the size of the one that Ellie had worn in the store. It wasn’t my favorite plug, and it didn’t have a tail hanging down. I whinnied, and he laughed.

“it sounds so weird when you do that,” he snickered and asked me how to warm me up so that I could take the plug.

“I am not like Ellie, Jeff. I’ve got a well-trained asshole. You can put it in my cunt, or my mouth, and I’ll get it wet and then ease it into my butt. You don’t have to make a production out of it,” I assured him.

I wasn’t sure if Jeff was disappointed by the ease with which I would accept the butt plug. He had masturbated his sister until she got horny, then spanked her while she played with herself at the store to get herself wet enough to handle the pain.

He plopped it in my mouth, and I got the plug well-lubricated with spit. He pulled it out and rammed it in my asshole.

“Easy, easy,” I said after he had it in my butt. It slid in, but I would have preferred he took his time. I changed the subject and ignored my throbbing anus. “Please don’t gag me unless your father asks you to do it. I need to be able to speak to you to guide you.”

“What’s the big deal? It went in, didn’t it?” Jeff shrugged off the fact he had jammed the plug in my ass.

“It’s fine, Sir. Most grooms take a little care with how they insert the plug. If it had been bigger, you could have torn me. You will need to practice. It’s your first time, and I am a big girl and can handle it a little rough. Just be a little more careful and take your time,” I advised.

Jeff acknowledged what I said and picked out a crop to use on me for the session we were about to have with his sister and father.

He clicked his tongue several times like I was an actual horse. He didn’t even hesitate to snap the crop across my flanks to get me moving. He treated me just like he did his sister.

I knew the command, and of course, I obeyed him. Jeff had seen Peter direct me with clicks and whistles for years. I didn’t begrudge him his use of the crop, although it was a weird feeling to know the swat came from my own son.

I high stepped out of the walk-in, my thighs lifting parallel to the floor with each step, back rigid, butt cheeks clenched, chin up, and tits proudly pointing the way as much as their sag would allow. He marched me carefully down the stairs. He had chosen not to gag me with a bridle, which was just as well since I needed to be able to offer him advice.

It’s really hard to take stairs and high step while someone is swatting the backs of your thighs. You have to keep your balance and remain graceful while keeping your eyes straight ahead. It’s a slow and careful process. I hoped that my son would take note of the effort that I made and never rush Ellie. One clumsy move in those heavy pony boots could result in one of us falling ass over end to the bottom of the stairs!

Peter had Dancer bent in half, looking back at him through her spread legs. She is so flexible! I have been a ponygirl for nearly two decades, and that pose is still challenging for me. I suspect my Mom can’t do it at all anymore, and that’s why Dad focuses solely on her sulky skills. She can still pull like an ox!



“Ah, good. You look fabulous as usual, Vixen,” Peter complimented me. “You’ll show Dancer how to do her makeup tonight. I want to see her mascara running when you give her BJ lessons later. Oh, and one other thing. Does she have an IUD?”

She didn’t have an IUD. I was surprised that Peter had made that decision so quickly. He had been on the fence about having sex with Dancer.

“I have decided after thinking about that I will be fucking that cute little teen cunt of hers. I don’t want any jealousy, though. Understood?”

“Of course, Master!” I replied. I was never very jealous of any other woman fooling around with my husband. I usually invited other women into our bed FOR Jeff. I was the one who really fucked around a lot – always with his permission or at his instruction.

However, I have to admit that I was a little disappointed because she was still my daughter, and honestly – I wanted Peter’s cock tonight. I could tell that he was going to save that for Ellie just by the gleam in his eye when he made his decision.

“All we need is to get her knocked up at 18 and spend her life a single mom. Pregnant ponies can be fun, but if she isn’t on birth control, then I’ll stick with her ass for now until she gets one if she doesn’t already.”

“No, Master. We haven’t really talked much about birth control, but she is on the pill,” I replied, having never before thought about Peter not knowing such things.

“My butt?” Ellie asked hesitantly. You mean you want to fuck it? With your cock? Are you sure? I poop from there! Sir,” she added as an afterthought. My daughter scrunched her nose in disgust and wrinkled her forehead, probably imagining her ass packed with shit and cum from her father.

“As long as I’m your trainer, I’ll use your ass. All of your holes belong to me, even the one you poop from, Dancer. Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, Master.”

“What I won’t do is switch holes while I’m fucking you unless you’ve just had an enema. You may poop and fart out of that disgusting hole, but you won’t be doing that while I am fucking it. You’ll be cleaned out and ready to have me fill it with hot cum.

Ellie was eighteen and sexually experienced. She took that butt plug at the store like a champion. I was really surprised that no one had ever tried to stick their dick in that juicy plump Puerto Rican ass of hers. I wondered if she was just pretending to be an anal virgin to tease her father.

“Some trainers don’t care if their dick gets shitty. They’ll fuck a ponygirl’s ass and then her cunt or mouth, and you have to be prepared for that if you want to continue the training after Camp Crucible. Camp Crucible is very pretty risqué and sometimes raunchy. You will be trained as a three-hole slut like your mother. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Is two-hole slut an option?” she asked, almost kidding, and suggested she loved getting plowed and sucking cock but wasn’t sure about anal.

“No, it’s either no sex or actual sex. We aren’t playing little girl games,” Peter explained firmly. He made a little girl’s voice and touched himself all over to imitate an immature tween. “You can touch me here, you can touch me there, but not there. Okay, here some, but not there.”

Jeff and Ellie laughed at their father’s imitation, and I did as well.

“If you want to take the time to decide when this is right for you, we can de-harness you now, but once you tell me that I can nut in your ass, I am not going to put the no-sex option on the table again just because you decide. You’ll fuck when I say fuck, how I want to fuck, and where I want to fuck.”

“Dad, what about consent? Didn’t you say that Ellie, I mean Dancer, gets to say no if she doesn’t want to proceed?” Jeff interrupted his father.

“That’s true, Jeff. If she is uncomfortable, she can choose not to consent. That’s why we are doing this practice. However, if she consents to being a fuckable little twat, then I expect her to abide by her commitment to behave as one and the rules that I set. I won’t play this game where the rules apply until she decides she wants to take a break.”

“I see, don’t play on Sunday, decide you don’t want to do it for a few days, and then ask to start again?” Jeff asked.

“Exactly. It’s kind of like deciding if you want to be in the house or out of the house. If you close that door, I don’t want you just walking back in and saying that the rules apply again. That goes for you as well, Jeff. If you want to be a groom, that’s great. I am proud of you for doing that. If you tell me that you don’t feel like watching your Mom and sister and want to play video games that day, then I’ll rethink your role in this.”

My daughter was still holding the elaborate pony position, balancing being bent over while keeping her mouth wide open. It was obvious that her legs were giving out on her a little. I am positive my husband noticed, but he didn’t react.

“So, we are doing this every day of the week?” Jeff asked.

“We will until Camp Crucible. If someone is genuinely sick, that doesn’t count. If it’s a special day, like a birthday, we’ll cross that bridge. When we get to Camp Crucible, it’s pretty much 24/7, and it lasts nine days. When we return, the girls will probably be sore and bruised and need a little rest. We’ll play it by ear and determine a schedule that works for everyone. However, if your grades suffer or you don’t feel like doing this when I need you, then I will have to give the job to someone else.”

Besides being red-faced from standing with her head between her legs, Ellie’s face showed disappointment rather than relief.

“I can’t imagine anyone else better for the job, Dad,” Jeff smiled proudly.

“I hope so. Remember it’s Peter or Trainer Peter when you are acting as my groom, Jeff.” Peter said. “I don’t want to rush your decision, Dancer, and I won’t judge you if you say no sex. I didn’t want to fuck you, but you seem to be sexually active with Jeff and craving dick. If you want sex, it’s on my terms and not yours.”

“Yes, Master. I want sex,” Ellie huffed a little as if she were trying to deal with leg cramps. I knew that feeling well.

“You aren’t free-use. You are mine. I don’t think you are ready to be put in the barn with your mother. I won’t put you in a situation like that until I make sure you are ready. That means you have to be able to take dick after dick from total strangers if you ever want to be stabled in the barn with your mother. That also means you have to be able to take it up the ass and give off your body. Men enjoy tight holes and the feeling of domination it gives them.”

“I’ve never done anal before,” Ellie admitted. I somehow doubted that. She seemed like she was being coy. She had clearly handled a monster butt plug. “One of my friends swears by it, though. Says she gets off and can’t get pregnant so she can still be a virgin on her wedding night.”

“Is anal Yellow or Red, Dancer?” Peter asked, assuming Dancer was concerned with giving up her ass.

“Oh, I’ll do it, Sir!” Ellie assured him. “It actually kind of turns me on giving up my last virginity to my dad ... er, trainer,” she corrected herself. “No boyfriend has ever tried to do me that way. They loved my juicy pussy and the way I give head.”

Peter allowed his daughter to break the pose and unzipped his pants. He made her kneel and show him. “You will be able to give even better head with those big lips of yours when I finish training you, Dancer.”

She started dutifully licking and sucking the tip. I liked her style.

My husband didn’t, though. He grabbed her ears roughly and asked if she had ever been throat-fucked.

“No,” my daughter murmured.

“I thought you were sexually experienced,” Peter seemed disappointed. “You’ll learn soon enough that your throat is a cum-pocket, and you will take my entire dick to the balls!”

“I can get most of it,” Ellie demonstrated by wrapping her beautiful pouty lips around his cock and swallowing a good portion of his cock. I was impressed with my daughter’s cock-sucking skills.

Peter wasn’t. He withdrew from her mouth mid-way through, pumping her throat with it. Ellie’s spit dangled from the tip as he pointed to the floor and instructed me to kneel.

“Let me show you what I want you to be able to do by the time you get to Camp Crucible.”

I wanted to tie my hair back in a ponytail to keep it out of my face. I usually trained with my dark hair in braids. Today, Jeff had chosen me, and my hair hung down around my shoulders. Peter grabbed a tuft of my hair roughly and yanked hard.

The kids had never seen that happen before. I mewled a tiny peep as Peter stuffed my mouth with his dick like I was a sex doll to be used. I enjoyed that feeling, I savored it. I didn’t want the kids to watch how rough it was going to get, but they’d soon find out anyway.

He yanked my hair hard, and thrust his dick down my throat, causing me to gag and making glurping sounds. My husband quickly pivoted to fucking my face while holding my ears and forcing my head down on his dick until snot ran down my nose and I teared up.

I honestly couldn’t see Jeff or Ellie, so I had no idea how they would react. Peter was just getting me wound up. This was foreplay. His finale, after about 20 throat pumps into the back of my throat, was to place his hands around my throat. He was always careful not to crush my windpipe, and he used his thumbs to hold my throat while he constricted my airways and fed me his dick. He pushed it past my tonsils and down my throat, where he continued to fuck my face roughly.

I’ve had my throat fucked so hard and often as a free-use slut in barns that I couldn’t speak the next day. I think I pulled a throat muscle or something. Yet, even with my experience, a single tear ran down my throat as milky white vomit dribbled out of my mouth and down my chin. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough.

Peter didn’t stop. He fucked my mouth until he got his nut in my throat and left me gasping and choking when he pulled out.

I was gasping and recovering for a few seconds while Jeff and Ellie watched me in awe.

“That’s how it’s done. That’s the goal, Dancer. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Fuck yeah! That looks awesome! Jesus Christ, Mom. You suck dick like a porn star!” Ellie lauded me with praise. I didn’t feel like a very good mom or person. I felt like the worst Mom in the world for allowing myself to demonstrate throat fucking to my kids.

“It’s not Mom, you dumb slut, that’s Vixen,” Jeff insisted. Cum ran down my chin, but I swallowed the rest greedily.

Peter didn’t usually call me names when he trained me. He wasn’t big on verbal humiliation. He grimaced and asked Jeff what he thought about what just happened without commenting on him calling his sister a dumb slut.

She’d have to get used to that, though, because some trainers are very big on verbal humiliation at BDSM events, and we might get maligned and teased even by other ponygirls.

“Oh yeah, that was cool. She got puke all over her tits.”

“Yep, you are going to see pee, poop, puke, anything that can come out of a woman, Jeff. Go get a paper towel and clean Vixen up. Wipe her tits and mind the leather,” Peter instructed.

Jeff dutifully obeyed and clicked his heels for me to follow. I stood up and followed him to the kitchen, where he cleaned me off. He even wiped my tears. I wasn’t sure if Jeff would ever look at me the same way again. I smiled politely at him while he cleaned me and thanked him when he finished.

When we returned, Peter was still training our daughter and discussing the boundaries and limits of what was to come.

“Do some trainers really make ponygirls suck poopy cocks?” She shuddered visibly at the thought.

“Vixen will suck whatever is put in her mouth, even a used plug or cock that’s been in another ponygirl’s ass,” he pointed to me when I returned to the living room. “Your mother’s mouth is a cum disposal and a dick washer. I have a higher hygiene standard than that. You’ll only slobber on a cock or plug if it’s been in a hole that I know has been cleaned out first,” Peter reassured her.

“If you want to be left in the barn all night, they’ll spank you, poke you, twist your nipples, fuck your face, ass, and mouth, and do almost everything short of brand you with a hot poker. You’ll have your share of dirty dicks. You might have an old man who has had his sweaty balls in his jeans all day and wants you to paint them with your mouth slobber. It can get rough. Do you want to be trained to be a fuckable little cunt, or do you want to be ready for the barn by the time we reach Camp Crucible?

I hoped I’d get used to discussing our adult activities with the kids. I didn’t like the feeling of having my sex life discussed in such detail, even though my cunt had other ideas and was practically pumping out lubrication and dripping down my thighs.

Everyone noticed, but no one commented. I’d been wet before around the house when I was in my pony regalia. I suppose it was no surprise to anyone that I was horny and ready to go. My nipples were engorged, and my cheeks were flushed with red. My lips tasted like my husband’s cum, and I smacked them slightly to savor the flavor.

“What does poop taste like, Mom? Ellie asked without answering her father.

“Vixen!” Peter reminded Dancer, smacking her sharply on her butt with his hand instead of the crop. She winced a little and corrected herself.

“Sorry, Sir,” Ellie squeaked out. I saw Peter’s handprint developing on her young, round butt cheek. Peter likes to use different implements during training so that I don’t get used to the same sensation. He’ll alternate between hands, crops, paddles, floggers, and even his boot at times. My husband limited himself to crops and open-hand slaps for this session.

“It really isn’t bad. Like stinky dirt,” I replied, blushing anew because Peter expected me to answer. “It does take some getting over the idea of what’s going in my mouth, though.

“Enough talk about ass right now. We’ll come back to it,” Peter decided aloud. “You obviously don’t know and don’t have enough experience to decide about being free-use, and we have time until we are there to decide. I don’t want to pressure you, Ellie. We’ve agreed that you are a fuckable little cunt, to be used by me and your brother in all three holes?”

“Yes, Master!”

“Good. Let’s focus on your dressage routine for a little bit, and then I’ll get you and Vixen to play a few fun games.”

I loved naughty little pony games, but the pit of my stomach was rumbling due to my nervousness. I had just sucked my husband’s cock to completion in front of Jeff and Ellie, and neither of them seemed freaked out about it – which sort of freaked me out a little. I expected them to at least react with shock or dismay.

The realization that this would be my new normal was starting to set in and weird me out. I clenched my asshole nervously around my butt plug.

We spent an hour just remembering the steps, with about half an hour getting the hang of the coordination, and then another 15 minutes practicing the whole package with Jeff as our audience.

My mother and I had a routine we used to perform together many years ago that Peter resurrected for me and Dancer. He even managed to find the original music we used, and he piped it through the sound system in the house.

The song was “The Magnificent Seven”. It’s an instrumental that’s very catchy and peppy. The routine is very well choreographed, and it takes a lot of energy to fancy step and perform the jumps. It always makes me smile when I perform it.

Ellie giggled right along with me as I taught her the steps while the guys cropped our butts anytime that we slowed down or made a mistake. It did feel like a game of sorts – the girls on one team and the guys on another.

It was a strange way to bond, but it was exciting, and everyone was enthusiastic about the practice.

Most dressage routines are more akin to showgirl dances these days than the old-time events from early rodeos when the ponygirl would simply stand and be inspected by the judges.

For our routine, there is a certain pose, I suppose you’d call it, that we have to maintain, but it requires that the armbinder be removed because our arms have to be at our sides with our elbows bent and forearms held perfectly horizontal to the floor, fists clenched and knuckles down. We have to stand that way between lunges and steps and face each other nose to nose, nipples to nipples, like we are going to kiss, but we don’t.

It sounds easy, I know. Try holding your arms exactly like that for 5 minutes and 9 seconds. My arms quickly began to feel like lead weights had been attached to my wrists, and any dip would be immediately punished with a crop to our flanks, hopefully before a judge saw it.

It’s also hard to stare directly into my daughter’s doe-like brown eyes and not giggle. We both cracked each other up a few times and had to be cropped back into taking the routine seriously.

It had been probably five years since I’d last danced that routine. My current Dressage routine is done with the armbinder securely affixed. Dancer had to have been feeling the same thing about her arms, it being her first time.

Ellie said she remembered seeing me perform it with my mother when she was little and loved the idea that we’d do it together as well. In a way, it was a generational dance now. I wondered if Ellie might one day be doing this with my future granddaughter. That was a strange thought.

While we’re high stepping and demonstrating pony steps, our heads remain perfectly facing forward, and we have toothy smiles on our faces while we high step, twist our torsos, and pop our butts, occasionally all at the same time. We also have to jiggle our boobs in a very coordinated and specific manner.

Dancer could not quite get the boob jiggle right until Peter attached clamps and weights to our nipples so I could teach her how to turn the weights on chains into helicopter blades. Our nipples really began aching after fifteen15 minutes of that, but Dancer didn’t complain a bit. I was very proud of her.

Despite being inside with air conditioning, we were both sweaty and exhausted by the end of that facet of training, and even my smile hurt.

Still, neither of us got a break longer than necessary for us to swallow a few sips of water from the bottle Jeff held to our lips. Either Peter had worked harder than usual, or I’d gotten lazy, one or the other.

It was probably just me being lazy. Once a week, training without clamps or nearly as many crop lashings had caused that. Peter was going all out this time. I was a little jealous that Dancer was taking everything in stride and not breaking much of a sweat. Oh, to be her age again!

[EddieDavidson]

The next segment of our joint training lasted just 15 minutes but felt like another couple of hours because of how grueling and monotonous it can be. I hadn’t told Ellie that the secret I’ve discovered to surviving these sessions was to turn your brain completely off and BE a pony – just don’t think. You simply react to the commands given and endure.

The training started a little unfairly – like most ponygirl games do. I wasn’t surprised by my daughter’s eagerness and enthusiasm, but I was a little surprised by how quickly she adapted to Peter’s style over her brother’s style of leading her around.

Peter spoke once or not at all and let the crop do his talking. He demanded perfection and focused on form and precision. He used repetition to reinforce the lesson.

My son loved to slap ass, but he hadn’t quite figured out his leadership style as a groom. He was all over the place – at times loud and brash, and other times tuned out and just going with the flow.

Peter showed his son how to apply a leather bit to our mouths. My son already knew how to do that, but Peter wanted him to learn “his way,” which meant starting from scratch on some things. I could tell that Jeff was a little frustrated by the lack of autonomy.



It’s a simple leather bit that depresses my tongue and then gets strapped to my ears tightly. In the default position, all I can do is make absurd guttural noises while spit dribbles down the side of my lips.

I bit down when Jeff placed it in my mouth, and he attached the buckles to my neck and collar and draped it around my ears so that I was effectively gagged.

It’s very humiliating, but when Jeff laughed at the noises I made, Peter chided him to take it seriously.

Peter showed my son how to force my mouth open wider and yank my tongue out so that I could still speak, but with some difficulty. “This is will give you easy access to pour bottled water down their throats or use their mouths for other things,” Peter implied I could suck cock this way.

“I know this is a little basic for you, Son. I am going to trust you with two of my MOST precious possessions. I’ll step out to take care of some things in the morning. It would be irresponsible not to provide you with a foundation. Your mother will guide you, but as you can already see from her bridle, she won’t be free to speak all the time.”

Peter slapped my butt knowingly. I winked and made a hurr-hurr-hurr Pony noise to signal that I was agreeing with him.

I’ve learned over the years to communicate through clenched teeth, but technically, any talking on my part should result in a punishment.

The next step was securing our armbinders to ensure we couldn’t move our arms. This put us in a position bent over and facing forward while looking directly into each other’s eyes. We were scooched so that my daughter and I were touching noses.

Peter instructed Jeff to remove our butt plugs and carefully place them in a bowl with water and dish soap.

“The butt of a pony is a very natural place to attach a tail, and while it can be disgusting and smell, you’ll need to learn to handle their asses like they were your own,” Peter advised.

Jeff got behind me, and before I could bear down to facilitate the plug removal, he’d gripped the flange and given an almighty pull, bracing himself against my back. The pain was excruciating! He could have torn my asshole inside out! I couldn’t help but whimper. The worst part was I let out a tiny puff of farty air, and everyone heard my butthole suck wind.

“Whoa, cowboy, what did you think you were doing there?” Peter chided Jeff.

“I assumed the plug would be clenched tight in Vixen’s butt hole. Is there a better way to get it out?” He asked innocently. I couldn’t be mad at him. I was used to being treated roughly, and I had already moved on from it. I wasn’t angry.

“Let the ponygirl do the work, buddy! It’s like taking a massive dump. You’ve proven you can overcome Vixen’s sphincter muscle, but there’s no need to. You get behind the ponygirl and say, ‘Release.’ My bad, I thought you knew that. Be gentler with Dancer, okay?”

Jeff apologized to his father, not me. While I didn’t expect an apology, I tapped my foot to will the sting in my asshole to abate. Jeff removed his sister’s butt plug much more carefully and placed them both in a bowl of soap and water.

“This game is called tug of war. It’s fun to play with bonded ponies who are learning to be a team, like your mother and sister,” Peter explained to Jeff. I’d played the game before, but I doubt either of them had any clue what he was talking about.

Peter had a much smaller butt plug that was shaped more like an anchor. It was attached to a short, corded rope with a matching butt plug on the other end.

“It looks like a jump rope, Dad,” Jeff said. He apologized for addressing his father that way again.

“It’s okay, son; for now, I will overlook you calling me Dad. There is no formal rule that Grooms have to address Trainers a certain way. It’s more of a custom that I adopted. I am more concerned that your sister and mother learn their names and roles while they are ponies and that respect toward us Peter stood behind me and stuck the smaller plug in my pussy, twirling it and gave me a nice little thrill. “Vixen is usually wet, so just dip it in her juices, and use the pony’s natural cunt drippings to lubricate their toys. There is seldom any need for lube with her. We’ll see if like mother like daughter, soon enough.”

“Oh, Dancer has a juicy twat, I assure you!” Jeff said.

Peter let his son scooch the smaller plug into my asshole as he observed. It felt like he was forcing a submarine up my bruised tailpipe after he yanked the bigger one out.

“Just relax, Vixen,” Peter rubbed my back and demonstrated to Jeff that not everything has to be forced or rough. “Easy does it, son. Good, make sure it’s locked in place, and twist it like this! The plug will expand inside her and lock in place.”

They repeated the process with Ellie. I got to watch my daughter’s eyes grow wide, and her smile widen as she dealt with the discomfort of having the smaller plug packed into her ass. I could see that she was used to a bigger production involving masturbation to deal with pain.

Once they did that, they brought the rope around our shoulders and tits so that it wouldn’t easily slide out and then reconnected it to the plugs.

Peter instructed us to turn around and face away from one another and then march slowly while bent over and with our butts sticking out in opposite directions until there was no slack in the rope.

I was certain if strangers could watch in our house, they’d really wonder about us as a family. I know it was a weird pass-time, but it actually can be fun to play anal tug-of-war. I knew the rules, but Peter had to explain them to Jeff and Ellie.

I’d never played this particular game on the carpet before. Our butt cheeks were level with each other. The rope hung down slightly across my pussy.

Once he was satisfied, we knew how to play, Peter gave us the command to start the game.

I put everything I had into stepping forward. Like pulling a sulky, you dig your toes in and get momentum working in your favor. Unlike pulling a sulky, you clench your ass cheeks rather than focusing on your thighs.

The flange inside the plug exerts pressure on the inner part of your sphincter. There are times that I thought it would be yanked out.

The Dancer weighed probably a little less than me; she had never done this before. As a result, there really was no competition. She stumbled backward, and Jeff had to rush to her aid to support her and stop her from collapsing backward onto me.

For a girl new to towering heels with no idea of what to expect, it’s scary as hell to be jerked backward by the ass like that. I immediately felt guilty. The victory meant nothing. I’d played this game against seasoned ponygirls who can go for ten full minutes of vicious pulling until one of us concedes and falls on our butts.

The second round proved she’d learned a great deal.

One other rule is where you begin the game from. You can’t step over the line until you hear the command to begin. I made the mistake of accidentally doing that, and Peter turned my ass rosy red with the crop to make an example of me.

Ponies also can’t look behind them for any reason during the game– eyes straight ahead at all times.

“You are supposed to be a good role model for Dancer on how a proper pony behaves!!”

I groaned in silence as he swatted my helpless ass with the riding crop over and over.

Each round was short, only a few seconds, but every time I won, my daughter learned to plant her feed more and resist my charge forward. She learned to use the momentum of stopping me to do a charge of her own. I was certain Peter was whispering tips and tricks in her ear, but that was fine with me. I had years of experience with my daughter.

When that was over, Peter taught my son how to release the flange safely, and to his credit, he was much more careful plucking it out of my ass and untying me.

Much to my surprise, the guys removed the leather bit and bridle that served as a gag. I assumed that they’d be giving us more water.

Instead, Peter instructed Jeff to demonstrate how I clean my plug. He put the smaller plug in my mouth, and I made a lemony face while Ellie and Jeff giggled. I assumed what was good for the goose would be good for the gander, and they would feed Ellie her plug to clean as well.

Instead, they made me lick her flange clean as well while Ellie and Jeff observed me slowly cleaning the plugs we had just used.

“See Dancer? No big deal. If your mother can do it, you can do it, right?” Peter asked.

Ellie seemed bright-eyed and willing to give it a try.

The third hour of Jeff and Ellie’s orientation, was spent giving Dancer experience with the various tools Peter has at his disposal for causing pain and pleasure. People don’t seem to appreciate that a tawse, used just right, is not a punishment tool at all but can be responsible for a high degree of pleasure.

Peter and Jeff moved the living room furniture since our hands were still bound behind us. That gave us plenty of space to play. “This is an exercise that has to be done indoors. I call it Maypole training,” Peter explained.

The kids knew exactly what it was because they had seen me do it by myself for hours on rainy days before.

A rope was attached to our necks and then tied to the ceiling fan. I know what you are thinking – that’s really dangerous. Jeff and Ellie thought the same thing.

Peter attached it to one of the fan blades and then turned the fan on to its lowest possible speed. The idea is that we cannot stop, and we must march around in a very large circle in the living room. Our steps have to be high, and most importantly, they must match cadence with one another. As I stepped down on my right heel, Dancer had to do the same. At the same time, we were to be lifting our left heel just as the right foot touched the floor and bending our knees in a special type of canter designed for quick stepping.

Any mistake resulted in a slap from a Tawse that Jeff and Peter both carried.

A tawse is simply a fancy word for a leather strap with three wicked ends designed for slapping asses, hands, and other sensitive body parts.

“This was used on school children in the olden days, Dancer. If this is too much, you should probably give up now,” Peter said as he spanked my daughter’s ass with it while directing us to march round and round in circles.

Peter didn’t introduce them to more advanced tools like canes, floggers, and big wooden paddles. He wanted Jeff to learn to use the riding crop, hands, and the tawse.

“That should be sufficient for the basic training that you will be doing tomorrow,” he told Jeff.

“Wow, I can start tomorrow?”

“You HAVE to start tomorrow, Jeff! That’s the job. This is your audition as much as it is your sister. I am still not sure about Dancer, but I am ready to trust you to be my Groom,” he tussled his son’s hair. “It’s a responsibility and a chore, but it has its rewards.”

Ellie frowned, but I knew that my husband had already made up his mind to accept Ellie as a pony. He just wanted to make her work a little harder for the job. I also knew that the pain he was applying was intended to sting so that Ellie would reconsider before she went too far.

It would be better if Ellie couldn’t handle the rough stuff if she quit until or unless she wanted it.

That hour was a very important facet of the training, as much for Peter as for Dancer and Jeff, because it taught each of them something previously unknown.

Peter learned as much about Dancer’s pleasure centers, reactions, tolerances, temperament, and reaction to stimulus as Dancer learned the correct application of the tools available to her trainer and Groom.

Jeff learned important commands and protocols and how to present himself as an authority figure. I had him going through the motions of being a groom. Peter had him ACTING like he was in charge, and that was a very different lesson altogether.

Dancer also learned that none of those implements had to be particularly feared when in the hands of someone loving and capable. Jeff learned that he had a lot to learn about utilizing every one of those tools. He couldn’t just pick up a paddle and begin whaling away with it the way he did with me on his first attempt.

Jeff was a natural at adding torque to his wrist to apply a good hard spanking. He could still learn a thing or two from his father, but I was impressed with how my son didn’t play around and slap lightly. He gave me a nice hard spanking and left my ass rosy. Peter gave him tips on how to add a little extra sting, but my son was off to a good start.

Peter also clearly delineated where the kidneys were and gave his son boundaries on where and how to hit us so that he could inflict pain without hitting any important internal organs or causing damage.

Jeff wanted to know how to choke us, but Peter said that was a bit too much for his first day. I could imagine my teenage son choking me, and it sent shivers down my spine to imagine his hands around my throat one day.

To round out the first evening of training, the kids learned there is more than one use for the rig. There were several around the house made of heavy wooden planks, with places to attach and secure cuffs or chain a girl to them. They were usually simple cross platforms, but some were attached to hard points in the ceiling.



I’d always assumed they had known that a device as bulky as a full-size entertainment center was not at all practical without having multiple functions.

Both Jeff and Dancer were astounded when it was revealed that there were over a hundred functions for it in total, that posture training was but one, and that both of us could utilize the single piece of equipment where each of us could provide the physical resistance needed to train the other.

For example, Peter had our talented daughter perform a handstand. He untied her from the wall, so that she could readjust her position.

My daughter was limber and able to do it without much difficulty revealing her pretty pink pussy as she balanced on her head and the palms of her hands.

She quickly discovered she could be hung upside down by her heels, and her upper body could be secured by her wrists, leaving her swinging free. Peter warned Jeff not to use the rigs without his supervision other than to tie us up for posture training. “I just want you to see the capabilities tonight.”

He looked at me and said firmly, “And that goes for you as well. Don’t talk your son into the more creative uses for a rig.”

“He’s my groomer, not my son when I am Vixen, Master.”

I assured my husband that I wouldn’t, but now that Peter mentioned it, there were quite a few interesting positions I enjoyed. Peter hadn’t specified which ones he considered “creative”. I tried not to think naughty thoughts.

I felt a little ashamed that I was tempted to think about my own enjoyment, instead of introducing things to Peter and Ellie slowly.

“That he is,” he said as he made a couple of adjustments to our daughter’s precarious position in the rig. He left her hanging spread eagle in such a way as to make her cunt and ass available to the trainer and Groom for various purposes, the least of which is for fucking.

My husband provided a disclaimer to Jeff and Ellie as he tied his daughter up in elaborate Shibari style rope bondage. He warned that Jeff should just observe tonight and that soon he would be learning how to tie us up this way. “It takes a long time to master this kind of bondage and suspension! For now, just use the basic knots you already know on your mother.”

Jeff was relegated to practicing tight and sensible knots on me. It was far less elaborate and artistic than the ones his father used on Ellie.

Peter decided this was the time to find out if Ellie could handle anal sex. He asked her if she was ready to be fucked upside down in her booty hole.

“Yes, Master! Please do it! I am so horny!” Ellie BEGGED to be plowed up the ass, and groaned and mewled like a kitten while he stroked her and warmed her up. He was edging her toward orgasm while preparing her asshole to open wide and accept his dick.

Peter instructed his son on how to lock me into the rig next to my daughter; at least I was positioned upright. I surrendered myself to Jeff so that he could lock me in place by my wrists and ankle on an X-shaped cross with my hands high above my head and my legs spread wide. Once I was locked in, I was slid forward until Ellie’s face was right in my crotch.

Peter unzipped his pants and slowly pushed his cock head into our daughter’s asshole, and she moaned and rolled her eyes.

“You’ve had a butt plug in all night, you are ready for this, Ellie. The plug is to stretch your hole and make it more compliant to also build up strength in the muscle, so you can tolerate cock!”

“Dancer! Dancer! Oh god, I can feel you in my tummy! Oh wow, are you sure you want to put it in my ass? It’s so disgusting!”

I got the impression that Ellie’s concern was more about getting her father’s cock dirty with her ass than it was about the pain. She handled butt plugs well enough that she was ready for this. She just had to get over the sweaty feeling of someone seeing a little dookie coming out of her butt.

I was locked into the same rig she was in such a way that every time Peter’s cock bottomed out in our daughter’s ass, her head was pushed into her cunt. Nose and lips just under her labia.

Her screams of pleasure reverberated through me enough to get me off once. How Ellie could not have known anal sex was such intense fun, I’ll never know.

Dancer is a screamer, and she learned she is completely unable to withhold an orgasm from anal sex alone when conditions are perfect, and the trainer is as talented as Peter. Peter left her upside down, ass spread so the warm cum he shot in her ass wouldn’t drip back out.

I’ve been in that precarious position before many times after Peter filled me with hot spunk. My feet above my head, my legs spread and exposed, and my ass filled with jizz.

I have to admit, it turned me on just watching my daughter swing slowly as she hung by her ankles, knowing she was experiencing it for the first time.

Peter instructed Jeff to stick his cock in his sister’s mouth while she was upside down. I am sure the angle made it difficult for her. I could tell that Ellie was intent on getting this over for her brother quickly and not about prolonging his pleasure and lovingly slurping his cock. She had a lot to learn.

I may not be able to help either of them with Algebra, but I could certainly teach an advanced cock sucking class like a Professor of Dicksuckingology.

The ease with which she’d confessed to sucking and fucking Jeff had made me think she was quite the accomplished cockswoman. In reality, it’s a wonder Jeff was able to cum at all from an Ellie BJ.

Her idea of sucking cock was pretty much lick the head with a few kisses thrown in where she’d try to slip her tongue into his pee hole. Jeff liked it but was sloppy, and the only reason he came, I think, was to begin. He was so turned on from all the naked titties and pussy he had seen that night. I was extremely turned on being ogled, touched, and prodded all night, too! I am sure it was exciting for the entire family.

It was so strange to imagine that now my entire family was involved in the same kink and turning each other on. Was there really anything THAT wrong with it? It’s not like we were trying to breed incest babies.

I didn’t ask for permission. I leaned into my daughter while we were still bound together and kissed the cum back and forth while Peter and Jeff observed. Ellie may not be able to suck a dick like a champion, but she could kiss very tenderly, and our second kiss was even deeper and more passionate than the first.

I didn’t get into tips and tricks for deep-throating. There wasn’t time, and Peter wanted to wrap up after he and Jeff had an orgasm.

I could foresee many lessons for them both in the future. They both seemed rather pleased with themselves as Peter told them he was proud of them.

My husband released us from the rig with Jeff’s help. He gently but firmly massaged Dancer, getting her off two or three times with his fingers alone while Jeff was assigned to give me a sponge bath and massage as part of my aftercare.

His fingers were a known quantity to me, although this time, neither of us was under any illusions about the sexual aspect of it. He literally spent 10 minutes just washing my nipples, 5 seconds on my butt crack, and another 15 on my cunt before he had his pants around his ankle, and his dick was hard again.

“This is aftercare, Sir. It’s not supposed to be sex. It’s just soft stroking, time together, and relaxing,” I reminded my son. His dick was really nice, though. It was hard not to listen to the little succubus on my left shoulder because she was telling me to invite my son into the tub with me.

The imaginary angel on my right shoulder had the night off! (like she often does). I reached up and massaged his cock and told him that he had a nice hard dick.

“I want to fuck you,” he said plainly. I was taken aback a little.

“I think it’s obvious that you want to fuck somebody, anybody, and I’ve got the right body parts, but Master has to give us both permission to fuck, Sir.”

My son seemed disappointed.

I had never considered an incestuous relationship with my son. I had dozens of lovers that my husband routinely lent me to, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t catch a cock almost anytime I wanted one. I still felt like it was such a shame to waste a nice hard-on like that, and it was all for me.

“I can’t stop you from jerking off on me if that’s what you want to do, sir,” I suggested in a coy, seductive manner. Jeff immediately began stroking. I flicked my eyes up at him in the sexiest way I knew how and told him, “I also can’t stop you from putting your cock in my mouth. You are my Groom and entitled to head at the end of the session ... I haven’t had a groom who could get it up so fast after shooting his load before.”

I was definitely going to hell for that, and you know what? I’d already said it. It was too late to chicken out now. He knelt down at the tub, stroked my hair, and I leaned forward and opened my mouth wide. He pressed the tip to my lips. I was certain he expected me to kiss the head like Ellie.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and then like a large-mouthed bass, I craned my neck forward, sitting up in the tub so that I could suck his dick to the base- this time, I sucked balls and all into my mouth.

He was astounded like some magic trick had made his dick disappear inside my mouth.

He came as quickly as he got hard, and once he shot his tiny load of jizz into my mouth, I showed it to him and blew bubbles with it. Jeff liked that very much. I smiled playfully and took his hands and put them to my breasts to suggest he play with them.

He played with my tits, but more like it was an obligation to him, and that did nothing for me. I surprised him when I showed him his gray jizz and that I hadn’t swallowed after about a minute. “You can give me the order to swallow anytime, Sir.”

“Wow, that’s hot! You can swallow!”

I enjoyed the taste and showed him my mouth was empty and clean.

“Will you suck my dick anytime I want from now on?” he asked.

“While I am your pony, I am obligated to give you head at the end of the session, and more if Master gives us permission, but I am still your mom any other time.”

I could tell that Jeff didn’t really believe that now. I don’t blame him. It would be hard to maintain two distinct relationships that didn’t overlap, no matter how regimented we made it.

I stood up and took his hand so that he could help me out of the bath. He dried me much faster than he had earlier. He wanted to talk more, but I asked him to just relax and hold me.

We cuddled on my king-size bed while we waited for Peter to finish with Dancer downstairs. I wondered how Ellie’s experience with aftercare with her father compared to mine with Jeff.

Peter can be a harsh, no-nonsense task master. He can also be tender and sensitive, and he studies what women like and does that. He knows I like to have my hair brushed with his hand, and my ears are erogenous zones when I am in a particularly vulnerable mood.

I was tempted to tell Jeff to kiss me on the back of the ear, but I had already gone so far with my son.

After we finished, Peter came upstairs with Ellie. They were both completely naked. Ellie wasn’t even wearing her boots or collar. She looked satiated and pleased.

“Do you have to perform your ablutions, Vixen?” Peter asked me abruptly while I caressed my son on the bed in front of my husband and daughter.

“Yes, master,” I answered crisply. It sounded like Peter was signaling me to get up and stop.

“Jeff, take Dancer to the bathroom; I am ready to go to bed. That’s it for tonight. You’ll start bright and early by waking up the girls. Vixen will be your guide tomorrow. I won’t be here. I’ve got some errands to run, but I’ll have my phone, so text me if you run into any questions that your mother cannot answer.”

“Yes, Sir!”

I was a little uncomfortable having Jeff follow me into the master bathroom to ‘supervise’ while I tinkled before bed, but it was a whole lot easier when I thought of him as simply a groom.

I’d had more than 23 grooms over the years, and they’d all watched me relieve my bladder and bowels in far more primitive ways than on a porcelain throne. I was completely naked, and Jeff still wore his socks and shirt. I blushed a little when the stream began. I made conversation to cover the noise.

“How did you enjoy tonight’s training, Sir?”

“Don’t tell Ellie, but I’d rather have you suck my dick than her, Mom. You’re really good at it!”

“Thank you, Sir. But you’re supposed to call us Dancer and Vixen while we’re training,” I reminded him. It would be hard for us all to get used to it. It didn’t help that Peter instructed him to take his “mom” to the bathroom and supervise me.

“Yeah, but it’s just us, and I’ve already taken your regalia off. Do you really mind me calling you mom now?”

“Do you know why your father asked you to call us by our ponygirl names?” I asked. I didn’t want to give him a direct answer. I wanted my son to be comfortable, and at the same time, being called Vixen immediately put me into a submissive mindset.

“Yeah, Ellie explained it to me. She said it’s to reinforce your role and that we need to get into the habit because that’s the protocol at Camp Crucible.”

“I will ALWAYS be your mother, and there are times I have to be in that role. There are times when you call me Mom casually while I am acting as a pony, and it jerks me out of my role as a pony. We need to keep the two relationships separate, Sir.”

I finished peeing and tore a wad of toilet paper off, folded it into a triangle, and wiped front to back before reaching back and flushing, but I remained sitting on the commode.

Jeff seemed fascinated with how I had folded my toilet paper for some reason. I assumed men didn’t bother with things like that. I did it to create some absorption between my fingers and my pussy.

“I think I can tell the difference between you with your ‘mom’ hat on and with your Vixen headdress on. I will respect you no matter what.”

I felt like that would be hard for him, especially after watching me pee or knowing he could put his cock in my mouth when I was his pony. I didn’t want to tell him what he was capable of doing or not, though.

“You are a great mom,” he added.

I smiled broadly at him and thanked him, feeling a weight lifted. I was about to tell him I felt like I failed him as a mother, which was encouraging.

“You are an even better cock sucker!” he smiled back.

I pursed my lips into a bit of a frown. I knew he was adding some levity to an awkward situation. It certainly failed to strengthen my resolve that this relationship with him would even be tenable as a parent and a pony.

“You’re the best mom ever, no matter whether you want to be called Vixen, or you’ll let me keep calling you mom. But I know it here,” he said, indicating his heart, “that you’re my mom even while I’m smacking the shit out of you. It’s just a label. I know you don’t need to be constantly reminded. You’ll never forget you’re my mom. In fact, I’d rather you call me Jeff than Sir, too, if Dad will allow it.”

That was sweet! It was reassuring to hear this from my son. I knew all about protocol and how it was supposed to be done, but I had never heard of a mother being trained by her son before. I assumed perhaps an exception could be made.

“We can ask your father, and that is what you wish, Jeff?” I said. I have to admit that hearing myself say my son’s name didn’t exactly inspire me with confidence. I had said his name countless times while he was growing up. “Jeff, get up and go to school! Jeff, clean your room!” and especially, “I love you, Jeff!”

Yet, now, it sounded strangely inappropriate while the tables were turned between us. I cringed as he watched me on the toilet.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s a habit and a sign of respect that submissives learn early on to address their Grooms and Trainers that way.” I explained that I’d have a hard time breaking that habit. “But if you want to ask your father if you can address me as Mom while you train me, that would be okay.”

I felt that was a fair compromise.

“So, it’s a limit? A boundary, for you?” Jeff asked. It was an innocent question but one that I failed to comprehend. I didn’t feel we were talking about sexual limits and boundaries.

“What is, Sir?” I replied, confused.

“I want you to call me Jeff. It’s my name. You’re always respectful, even when you’re wearing your mom’s hat. But you said you HAVE to call me Sir, and now you seem like you’ll tolerate being addressed as Mom, even though that’s what I normally call you. Either you’re topping from the bottom and adding your own rules, or there’s a rule that I don’t know about, don’t care about, and don’t want you to adhere to when it’s just us. If Dad agrees, it can be all the time.”

That was a mouthful, and he had me there. How I spoke to the Master, trainers, and grooms was just how I spoke to them. I had never questioned it, and no one had ever asked me to do anything other than address them with respect.

Maybe sometime in the distant past, Peter had made that rule, but I don’t remember ever breaking it. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was just me being respectful to those people in the BDSM community around me. My husband and I didn’t have an elaborate three-ring binder filled with written rules. They were all in our heads and had been established through mutual consent years earlier.

“Okay, Jeff, we’ll ask your father to make a ruling on it,” I agreed politely. I would find a way to get over my habit of saying Sir to my Groom if Peter decided it should be that way. As a Pony, my job is to serve and please, and I could hardly be respectful if I didn’t obey someone else’s wishes.

I much prefer Peter to make as many decisions as possible anyway. If he said no to Jeff’s request, I wouldn’t mind at all, but if he said yes, I’d accept that, too. I want to please my son with more than just my holes; Peter is my Master. If he caught me calling our son Jeff while being a ponygirl, I know he’d be angry and think I was slacking off.

Jeff remained and watched me brush my teeth and hair even though he’d brushed my hair for me earlier. It had got messed up and tangled while Jeff had been on top of me. The memory made me blush a little, but I was already accepting I was now a son fucker. Jeff slapped my butt and told me my hair was good enough to get me moving.

He then followed me out to the bedroom, and Peter told him that tomorrow he had a project for them, but for tonight, to take Dancer to the other bathroom and then tuck her in bed.

He pointed to a cage at his feet. We kept a cage big enough for a large dog near our bed, and the kids both knew about it. I rarely used it, and it was often a “time out” for punishments and not intended to be a treat.

I still occasionally found solace in the cage because I could have quiet time all by myself. It wasn’t something that I particularly enjoyed. It was cramped, and there was no way to lie out completely flat. The bottom of the cage was made of black plastic, designed to be easily washed if I accidentally peed on it.

It wasn’t particularly comfortable, and even though Peter usually gave me a blanket, he never let me have a pillow.

There were times I got lonely in the cage, and even though I had time to masturbate, I felt silly being locked in a cage in my own home. There were times when the reality of surrendering control to my husband and actually going through with a night in the cage gave me so much time to think. It’s hard to explain, but I would begin to feel like if anyone were to find out that my husband caged me, that he was being abusive or cruel, or worse, that I was being silly for letting myself be locked up in my own bedroom.

I never considered it “cruel” because he usually put me in the cage when I was extremely horny and needed to cool off or when I was mouthy.

Tonight, he planned to put me in the cage so that Jeff could unlock me, and that was the only reason.

As Peter handed Jeff a key out of my bedside drawer, he reminded Jeff to set the alarm as I wouldn’t be able to start breakfast until he unlocked me.

That made me blush again. Peter was telling our son he was going to lock me up tonight. I loved it when Peter tied me up at night. I could fall asleep easily while bound in rope. There were times when it was like meditation. However, he hadn’t caged me in months, and he was so blunt about it.

I didn’t ask if this would be my new normal while we trained. It didn’t feel appropriate to ask in front of Jeff.

“I won’t let you down, Dad. Mom and I were talking in the bathroom, and I asked if she could just call me Jeff. Does that violate a ponygirl law or something?”

I didn’t expect Jeff to ask about this change right away. Peter was tired. He had been freshly fucked, and I could tell he was ready for bed.

“Did she say no?” Peter asked calmly. He didn’t look at me while I stood at the foot of the bed, waiting for an order to go in the cage.

“Yeah. She said it wouldn’t be right. But it’s what I want. So, can she?”

“I’m glad you asked first because I would have been angry with her if I’d heard your mom address you casually as Jeff while she was training, and I didn’t know that was your preference. You want to call her mom instead of Vixen, too, I suppose?”

“She IS my mom. She’ll always BE my mom. She’s just a ponygirl, too. That’s why I asked if there’s an unwritten rule or something. I just don’t want to have to switch over all the time. So, is it alright?”

“Let me think about it, Jeff. It’s only four hours. Tomorrow, I want you to call her Vixen, and I want her to call you Sir, Mister Jeff, or address you as her Groom. I don’t want her to practice bad habits in front of your sister, and I want them both to speak properly at Camp Crucible. Can you do that, buddy?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jeff was disappointed. He swished his mouth around from side to side and gave his father a duck lips expression on the way out of our room.

My husband wanted me caged. He seemed puzzled while I was still standing at the foot of the bed.

“Did you want to have sex with me, Master? I asked hopefully.

“I always want to fuck the shit out of you, Carmen. I want to pound that pussy of yours and cum in your ass, but I just fucked our daughter’s tight little asshole. I never thought I’d do something like that. Get your handcuffs and put them on behind your back. I don’t want you playing with yourself in the cage. I want you nice and horny for tomorrow.”

I pouted a little and obeyed my husband. He watched me snap the cuffs on my wrists, and then I bent down and crawled on my knees into the cage. I could barely sit up, and I had to bow my head.

I thought he might at least engage me about how I felt about sucking Jeff’s dick or training with Ellie, but he didn’t. I think he knew that I was conflicted and not prepared to know my own true feelings on it enough to tell him what they were.

I hoped he would ask me about Jeff’s request to call him by his first name, but he clearly wanted to go to bed. He turned out the light and said goodnight.

“Goodnight, Master.”

Peter left the keys to my cuffs and the cage on the outside of the cage. I could have grabbed it and unlocked myself if I had wanted to do it. As unlikely as it was, if there was an emergency, Peter wanted me to be able to get myself out of the cage. He walked over to my cage and looked down at me.

It was somewhat humiliating to be in a cage while my husband looked at me like a captured sex beast that he had to tame.

“Show Jeff the ropes,” Peter grinned in the darkness. I could hear the smile in his voice even though I couldn’t see it. “You ARE still his mom, but for four hours, you are Vixen, the pony. You belong to me, and I have chosen him as my Groom, and so, by extension, you belong to him for that time. This is going to be awkward because Jeff doesn’t know everything yet. He barely knows anything yet. Gently guide him as you have been, and CALL or TEXT me if you are in doubt. There is no need to rush things. He needs to learn how to do things properly, and that includes developing patience.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Ellie and Jeff want to jump ahead, but I am not going to allow that. If Ellie wants a taste of the ponygirl life and to seriously train for Camp Crucible, then I will give her an authentic experience at home and see how she handles it. I want you to explain to Jeff what he needs to do.”

“Yes, Sir,” I nodded.

“That means he is your Groom, but you have to direct him on how to handle both you and Ellie. Do you regret introducing both of them now?”

“Not at all, Sir,” I lied. I did regret it a little. I wasn’t sure how things would go with Jeff and Ellie, but there was no putting the cat back in the bag now.

“I knew Ellie had an interest in BDSM for a long time because she’s asked me questions about it. I never knew she was so eager to be like her mother. She respects you; you know that, right?”

I brightened and wasn’t sure what to say in response.

Peter assumed he didn’t expect an answer to his question anyway. “You won’t be topping from the bottom. You did the right thing, telling him to ask me to change the protocols. That was good. When in doubt, ask me. It’s going to be light pony training tomorrow. Jeff did fine tonight while I stood over him. I want to give him a little slack so that he can develop his own style without being smothered by me OR you. I want him to develop his own style and have a little autonomy.”

“Yes, Master!” I agreed.

“When I get home, I expect the house to sparkle, and if it does, then I might see fit to give you a little reward in private later,” Jeff smiled as he placed his dick between the metal bars of the cage. He tapped it on the top of my head.

I moved to offer my mouth to swallow the tip, but I knew he would pull it away before I could get it in my mouth.

“Hungry little cock slut, that’s what I love about you, Vixen. Your daughter is just as cock hungry as you are, perhaps even more, if that’s possible. You understand that for the next two weeks, I’ll probably cage you or leave you tied up as I would at Camp so that Jeff has practice, right?”

“Yes, Sir,” I pouted. I wanted to snuggle with my husband. Who am I kidding? I wanted to fuck his brains out.

He laid down on our comfortable king-sized bed and fell asleep without another word. I missed the comfort of my pillows. I was alone and naked in the crate without even a blanket. My hands were bound, so I had to sleep on my knees, face down.

It took me a while to fall asleep. I tried to play with my ass a little with my fingers. I knew I didn’t have permission, but I was so horny. I had aftercare tonight, but I wanted more. I licked my lips and imagined a big dick sliding through my cage that I could suck on. It didn’t matter who it belonged to -only that it was just for me.

[EddieDavidson]

(Here is a little public stuff)

Jeff came quietly into our room in the morning and saw me patiently waiting for him from inside the cage. I had time to prepare myself so that I wouldn’t seem panicked. I knew that my son was going to be seeing me like this all week, and I wanted to present myself in a demure way, like a proper pony.

I didn’t want him to think that I was being abused or hated being in the cage. I didn’t enjoy it or get a vicarious thrill out of it. It was required of me as a submissive, and I obeyed my husband.

I knew it turned Peter on, and that’s all that mattered to me when I agreed to get in the first time. He actually built this by hand for me in his workshop.

The idea of the cage was mainly about isolation and control when I was alone. The fact that I chose to get in the cage and allow Peter to control me was a sign of submission.

It was a little humiliating and demeaning to be caged like a dog. I was his prize pony, not a dog, after all. I had never minded that our kids knew about the cage. It wasn’t something that I imagined them observing me while I was inside.

Now, I felt like a zoo animal, waiting for the next guest to come take a look at me - completely on display. My pussy began to drip uncontrollably and quiver.

Peter warned me to be a proper role model for both of them on pony behavior, and I intended to do well on that command. He had left earlier that morning for some errand he had to run. I assumed perhaps he had even intentionally left the house just so that his son didn’t feel self-conscious that Peter was watching and judging him.

I am sure even though I felt composed, I probably looked overly eager to get out. I had to go pee, and I had been sore from night in the cage. I tried to remain calm and not look desperate at all.

As far as Jeff knew, I spent most nights this way. There was no point in telling him that I had been left this way as a lesson to him.

Our kids have seen the cage in my bedroom since they were little. We’ve never had a dog, even though it’s the perfect size for a large dog to use. I never made it a secret that “mommy gets in the cage sometimes.”

They giggled about the cage when they knew it was for me but never asked to see me get in.

However, this was the first time that Jeff was witnessing me naked with my big Latino butt pressed against the cold black metal cage. It’s not big enough to lay down completely. I had to remain on all fours, ass up, tits pressed down, and sleep in a crouched squat with my hands behind my back.

He noted that I was awake but just looked at me for a few seconds, taking in what he saw before he stepped up. The key had been left out for him to find. He unlocked the crate and stroked my hair as I crawled out.

I shot a look of thanks to him and admitted that I really had to use the bathroom as I stood up.

He pointed towards the master bath and silently followed me in before shutting the door. He didn’t remove my cuffs, but I didn’t ask.

“Good morning, Mom. Did you sleep well?”

“Wonderfully, thank you, but your father wants you to address me as Vixen, Sir.”

I hated how artificial I sounded – like a robot. “How did you sleep?” I asked.

“I slept with Ellie and fucked her this morning. I did the finger thing on her clit, too, and she came!” Jeff bragged.

I couldn’t remember what the “finger thing” was, but I assumed it got my daughter off.

“Do you mind removing my handcuffs?” I asked politely.

“I don’t know, am I supposed to do that?”

“It’s at your discretion when we are at Camp Crucible, but it’s going to make it really difficult to sit on the toilet if you don’t, Sir.”

Jeff used the special key to remove the handcuffs. They were police-grade cuffs, so they weren’t easily picked.

I thanked him as I rubbed my wrists to improve blood flow and put the cuffs back on the nightstand. I climbed on the toilet to pee. He had seen me do this before, but it was still humiliating. I’d done a lot more out in the open at places like Camp Crucible in front of hundreds of strangers.

It still felt wrong and sort of personal and intimate to be sharing a bathroom with my son while he watched me go pee.

Jeff stood there awkwardly. I wondered if he had watched his sister this way, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to seem confrontational.

Halfway through peeing, I realized I really needed to poop as well. I decided to warn Jeff. He had been very adamant that he wanted nothing to do with poop, and I considered the smell it’d make.

“I’ve got to poop, Jeff. I understand if you want to wait for me to finish, flush, and spray deodorizer.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, Mom, Vixen. Do you really have to poop out in the open at rodeos and have a groom with you?”

“That’s one of your father’s rules. There are times when I am going to be on long-distance five-mile trots, and there is no stopping. Your father will expect me to piss while I walk.”

Jeff scrunched his nose in disgust. “You have to shit while you walk too?”

I cringed a little when my son used a more graphic word for “poop.” I was by no means a prude, but Jeff had never cussed around me like that before. He always said poop or going to the bathroom. It made me feel even nastier for having to do it around him.

“That too,” I replied while I started to poop in the toilet. I admitted that I had never had to do that while I was on a long-distance trot. “I usually had plenty of opportunities ahead of that event.

“Some women come to the rodeos by themselves, and some rodeos happen at ranches where there are bathroom trailers. There are some events that really do have an open pit and a backhoe to fill it in after everyone leaves, and I’ve even been to a few where it’s the ponygirls’ responsibility to dig the latrines themselves. Camp Crucible is like that, so I am afraid your sister and I are going to be doing our business in the great outdoors. At least, I will be anyway.”

“Why does Dad insist on a groom to go with you to the bathroom, then?” Jeff asked. He meant watching me in the bathroom.

“Your father calls it observing ablutions, and I think your father wants you to understand that there is more to pony training than just whipping butts, twisting nipples, and marching around a field in pretty headgear. There are mundane chores, and even how we eat and go poop is scrutinized.”

“Scrutinized how? Can you win an award for the longest turd?” Jeff snickered.

“No, nothing like that,” I blushed as I tried to soften the sound of my farts. “I have to place my feet flat, spread my legs and I have a certain amount of time to complete my ablutions, Sir.”

“So, you pinch a loaf in front of everyone while people time you?” Jeff scrunched his nose in disgust and wrinkled his forehead. He seemed as amused by the mental image as he was disgusted by it. “Isn’t it embarrassing?” Jeff asked an obvious question.

“Your father sees it as a natural bodily function, and for ponies, we still have to take care of our needs, but we give up certain privileges in the field, like privacy.”

“And dignity!” Jeff snickered when he heard the turd in my butt splash in the toilet between my legs. I blushed in front of him.

“Yes, certainly. Some things I’ve been doing for so long that they no longer embarrass me. Luckily, I’ve got olive skin, or I’d have been red-faced a lot since you started acting as my groom. I know this is awkward, stinky, gross, and weird,” I consoled him.

“So, why did you agree to be a ponygirl if you have to do things that embarrass you? It couldn’t have been comfortable in that cage with your wrists behind your back. That has to be humiliating to sleep in a little metal box while Dad gets the bed to himself.”

I didn’t want to say that was my first time in months being in the cage because I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me.

“It’s really hard to explain, Jeff,” I admitted before cursing my forgetfulness, apologizing and calling him Sir.

“See? It’s hard to use pony names and titles with each other,” Jeff felt vindicated before telling me to try to explain it anyway.

I was responsible for educating him on how to be a groom while his father was gone.

“I have ... um ... an unusual ... well, not really unusual, I guess ... but you’d call it a kink. I get turned on by being humiliated. It’s more common than you’d think,” I admitted honestly. It wasn’t something I talked about very much. Peter wasn’t into humiliation, and even though he put me into humiliating positions, he never degraded me or talked down to me.

I’d seen some Masters who made their entire identity about humiliation, and the focus of their training was often quite demeaning to the pony girls. That was not Peter’s style, and I didn’t want it to be, either.

“So, you like being embarrassed? But you never get embarrassed!” Jeff observed.

This was so hard to explain. I was more embarrassed admitting to my son I got off on certain forms of humiliation than it was to actually be handcuffed and caged in front of him. I felt he just couldn’t fathom the reasoning because I had never drilled into the reasons it excited me. It wasn’t something that Peter did often, and I never really thought about it.

“I can, and I am, I assure you. It’s so hard to explain that I am actually embarrassed just admitting that certain situations turn me on, Sir.”

I decided to just be honest with my son and not mince words.

“Like this one?”

“I’ll be honest, it’s as humiliating as it’s awkward. It’s making my heart race, but I am more concerned about disgusting you. There is a fine line between fantasy and the reality of stinky poops. Are you really sure you want to be in here?”

I didn’t answer his question, so much for being completely honest.

“Stand up and straddle the toilet, Vixen. I want you to stand over it like you would outside at camp crucible and finish,” Jeff stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll deal with the smell. I’ve been in the bathroom after Ellie’s dropped one, so I know girl butts don’t smell like roses, no matter what girls would have guys believe.”

I commended his bravery. I stood up over the toilet. It wasn’t easy to straddle it.

“No, turn around, hold your cheeks apart.”

Oh god, why did he ask me to do that? Did he really want to see a brown banana emerge from my butt?

Peter was always offended and deeply disgusted by the sight of me pinching a loaf on the pony field. It’s deeply humiliating to be outdoors and hear it crackle and drop on the ground at my feet.

This was definitely not a turn-on for my husband. I’d had a few grooms who seemed to get excited watching a girl piss, but never one that really stared at my butt while I squeezed one out. I’d seen some Grooms and pervy old men at the camps who made it more of a spectator sport by watching the women-ponies at the camp latrines.

Watching us go pee was even more popular! I blushed just thinking about one groom I had who got a boner while I tinkled all over the soft Georgia clay at one of the BDSM pony events we’ve been to.

He got so turned on that he became flustered. I was embarrassed but deeply flattered that I had that effect on him with a simple bodily function.

“Jeez, Mom, did something crawl up your butt and die?” Jeff said a few moments later when my smell reached his nose. Luckily, he was grinning as he fanned his face sarcastically. I was glad that I wasn’t traumatizing him.

I felt my cheeks heat up although it didn’t specifically excite me to be making mud while he was in the room. I’ve taken so many dumps in front of both trainers and grooms over the years that usually I’d just do it, but the difference was that it was my son, and he’d said the idea of poop grossed him out. The humiliation was there, but it was tempered by the thought of Jeff being grossed out and not turned on.

He laughed about how the poop made a crinkly sound as it slid out of my ass and fell into the toilet.

“is that it?” he said when it dropped into the water and splashed my calves.

I was too embarrassed that my son was going to see my dirty, unwiped bottom to speak. I murmured something about, hoping this satisfied his curiosity.

I wanted to make a funny joke about now that I had that out of the way. Jeff shouldn’t be surprised if
a dried wad of cum dropped out after getting fucked by a dozen men the night before. I wanted to add some levity to the awkward silence as he stared at me.

I couldn’t get up the courage to be facetious. I was mortified.

“Dayaaam! All that shit was inside you? And dad fucks that dirty ass? It looks like brown clay back there. Okay, finish up. That’s pretty gross, Mom!”

I couldn’t believe he saw my dirty, unwiped ass. I grabbed some toilet paper, folded it around my fingers, and began to clean my rear end while continuing to stand.

“You can give me commands as a groom, but you don’t have to make fun of me, Jeff,” I reminded him. Peter teased me every now and then, but it was very infrequent and playful. I was burning red with humiliation.

“Sorry, Mom,” he apologized.

I cringed when he called me Mom. I was his Mom, but it didn’t feel right while I was his pony. I would have to reconcile our new relationship and reach a place where I knew where the boundaries were. I decided not to say anything about that to him and offered a further explanation. I reminded him again that I was Vixen now.

“Your mom doesn’t poop in front of you, only Vixen does, Sir.”

“I’ll have to get used to stepping over a Vixen patty!”

Oh god, I had this image of a giant cow patty on the red clay near the pony fields, with flies buzzing around it in the hot sun, and imagining my son stepping over it to avoid my mess.

“About twice a week, I give myself an enema. I don’t want to do it more than that because there are good bacteria up there too, but I do like to be as clean as a whistle on weekends and when...” I closed my mouth. It was too difficult to tell Jeff I would give myself an enema whenever I thought one of Peter’s buddies would likely want to fuck my ass. I decided that I’d change the subject slightly.

“When what?” Jeff pressed for an answer.

Me and my dumb mouth. I decided to just come right out with it.

“Yesterday, your father said he sometimes ... loans me out,” I admitted. Jeff would naturally find that out when we went to Camp Crucible. Peter had been pretty explicit, but perhaps it was still not sinking into Jeff.

The wording allowed me to answer his question without actually admitting to my son that I got loaned out for anal sex.

“Yeah, I remember. So?” He asked, smirking.

At that moment, I knew Jeff was teasing me. Like a stupid bitch I’d told him I like to be humiliated, and I felt like he was intentionally ridiculing me.

“Many of those guys like to cum in my ass, then watch as I drip it out and lick it up,” I admitted my dirty secrets. My cunt got juicy just admitting it to Jeff.

“And you’re turned on now, aren’t you Vixen?” Jeff asked, putting the final dig in.

“Yes, Sir,” I admitted truthfully. “May I turn around and flush, please?”

I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to flush. I didn’t know the rules in my own house. Grooms usually didn’t come over, and none of them followed me to the bathroom when they did.

“Cool,” he replied, then changed the subject, leaving the matter of my arousal drop. “Yeah, flush and see you at breakfast then?” He asked, and I realized Jeff was done toying with me.

“Is Dancer waiting for you to supervise her in the bathroom?” I asked, feeling a little awkward, but it’s not my responsibility to teach a groom how to do his job. It was still a little weird having my son in a closed bathroom with me. I hadn’t asked him earlier, but now I felt that I needed to clarify what he should do with her.

“I dunno,” he shrugged.

A lot of thoughts and feelings were knocking around inside my head. As his Mother, I wanted to get Jeff motivated, but now he knew more about me than any son really should know about their Mom, and I didn’t know if I should tell him what to do at all. Another thought was that Jeff was never going to be a trainer, so why would he want to be a groom? I finally made a decision and gave him some direction.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and take a shower. Why don’t you go see what Ellie’s up to?”

“Yeah. Right. Should I make sure she takes a shower and stuff?” He asked.

“Good idea,” I answered. I assumed Ellie was up and poking around to get ready to spend a few hours as a pony before her father came home.

There was a part of me that wished Jeff and Ellie weren’t curious about this lifestyle. I had always been comfortable answering their questions when they were younger. I never thought I’d be in this situation with my boy watching me wipe my dirty ass and bald, wet pussy.

It was my fault, I suppose. Peter had been more conservative about our lifestyle around the kids. I was the one who was more candid with the kids when they were little. They were home all day with me, and I liked to do my chores in light pony regalia.

I also showered with them, so I wore more clothes in the leathers than I did in the bathtub, and for that reason, I saw nothing really wrong with it. Now, the Rooster had come home to roost, or the Chickens came home to lay eggs, I wasn’t sure how that saying went.

The fact was, my son was now my groom, and we had gone past the point of no return where he could unsee what I did in the bathroom and unhear some of my dirtiest secrets.

I came downstairs in a very light leather harness, collar, and pony boots. It was something I wore around the house in front of the kids frequently when I cleaned or worked in the garden. I didn’t even have my butt plug in.

Ellie joined me at breakfast, wearing a little more leather than I would have selected for her. She had an old harness of mine fitted around her tits, and the straps ran down to her freshly shaved pussy. She wore her heavy boots.

The harness her father bought for her was brand new and not very well-worn. It was rigid and heavy and wouldn’t be considered “light barding” by her father’s standards. Light pony regalia was more of a reminder that one was a pony than it was a practical set of pony gear to wear.

I was tempted to ask if she was wearing a butt plug. I usually didn’t wear one around the house unless Peter insisted that I clean with mine. The kids rarely ever noticed it unless I bent over because it hid neatly between my big ass cheeks.

Breakfast was ... normal. I’d expected the whole dynamic to be different now, but Ellie was her usual motor-mouthed self. She talked about pony boots, practice, routines, and even the garden in the backyard. Jeff listened, and the two of them laughed. I laughed along with them like I did when it was just the three of us at the table.

Jeff maintained protocol with the both of us and called us Dancer and Vixen. We needed practice with that to get used to the change.

Ellie abruptly told me that she wanted to plant some tomatoes. I told her it was really too late in the season for them, and she launched into a story about how one of her friend’s parents was growing tomatoes.

I wanted to say, “If your friend jumped off a bridge, would you expect me to do it?” but I held my tongue. It was just good to know that my daughter wanted to help with the garden. That was a new thing. She normally had shown no interest.

Jeff enjoyed his breakfast and rarely interrupted his sister. I could tell he was trying to imitate his father’s stoic and often silent manner. Peter had a way of communicating through silence with just a glance. Jeff was still a long way from that sort of technique and just came off shy.

Once we were done, I began to remove the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. I was surprised that Ellie joined me and helped clean up without being asked. I have to admit, it was at that moment that I felt vindicated for having introduced Ellie to the lifestyle at all.

It was nice seeing her proactively begin helping around the house, even if it took some leather boots and naughty games to entice her into it.

I decided not to jinx it by saying anything complimentary to her. I thought it might make her self-conscious and make her decide not to help.

“What kind of training should we do, Vixen?” Jeff asked.

“The first thing I need to do is clean the house from top to bottom before your father comes home. If there is time after that, then we can practice pony dressage in the living room.”

“Ah, poopy!” Ellie stomped her heavy boot like a horse and then pouted. “I wanted to play!”

“Work hard, then play hard,” I derided her and began my routine of very mundane and boring chores, starting with cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. I intended to take one room at a time and clean the entire house before I would do one thing related to pony play. Jeff may have been my groom, but Peter was my Master, and he would be quite disappointed with me if I played all day and didn’t scrub the house down.

Much to my surprise, Ellie joined me right in and helped out. She had trouble walking around in her heavy, high-heeled leather boots, but the practice helped her to get used to them. I gave her light directions to vacuum or fold clothes, and she did it without complaint.



“The mundane parts of life can’t simply go on hold while we live out our fantasies,” I quoted something my Mother told me years ago when I first started training. “Bills need to be paid, fences need mending, chores need doing.”

“Fences need mending?” Ellie asked, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t mean that literally. I mean, just that we have to get everything up to snuff!”

“Cool beans!” she smiled and bounced energetically to her next chore without complaint.

I was tempted to say, “I should have trained you as a Foal sooner if I knew you’d be a helper!”

Instead, I found it best to remain quiet about that.

Jeff made himself scarce and watched a little television. It took about four hours to clean the house from top to bottom, which was the time my husband had allotted for the day.

I reminded Ellie that the four hours allotted were already up and that we had to change out of our pony harnesses.

“What? I cleaned up and did everything, and I can’t play a little? That isn’t fair!”

“Ponyplay isn’t all play; some of it involves service and hard work,” I chided her. I didn’t want her to act like a spoiled brat. I could have lectured her on service and how she shouldn’t expect a reward for everything she does for the house. I remained silent and sternly began to remove my gear.

“Pony play has PLAY right in the name, Vixen,” she addressed me by my pony name for the first time that afternoon.

I gritted my teeth. It was one thing for my son to call me Vixen, but it felt disrespectful for my daughter to call me by my pony name. I know it was a double standard, but it was the first time she actually used my pony name, and once again, it rubbed me in the wrong way.

“Well, Dancer. I think you should take that up with your father when he gets home,” I warned her. I knew she would back down when she realized Peter wouldn’t appreciate her making demands.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“You called me Dancer. I like that.”

“I am Vixen, and you are Dancer while we are training. You shouldn’t call me Mom, and I won’t call you Ellie when we are practicing, okay?” I offered her politely.

“Cool, yeah! Do you think I can still wear my boots around the house even though I put on my clothes?”

“I don’t see why not. You can ask your father when he gets home,” I shrugged. We went and changed into street clothes. My daughter put on some pink short-shorts and a white halter with no bra. That wasn’t unusual for her around the house. She was always a bit of an extrovert. It looked strange that she was wearing her pony boots because they came up almost to her knees.

We went outside and worked in the garden a little. I promised to get some tomato seeds and see how they did in the off-season. We had a relatively normal lunch. I noticed that Ellie didn’t help with the chores that time. I wondered if she forgot or didn’t feel obligated because she wasn’t in training.

I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. Peter never said she had to do chores around the house. He hadn’t said a lot about what my daughter and I had to do anyway.

When Peter came home, he kissed me and held me tight. Then, he asked Jeff for a report on our behavior. I didn’t ask him where he had been. I trusted him and knew he’d tell me if it was important.

“They wore their pony regalia for a few hours and cleaned the house. Then they ran out of time.”

“Why are you still wearing your boots, Womble?” Peter said as he looked at Ellie with an arched eyebrow.

“I wanted to get used to wearing them around the house, Sir.”

“You are allowed to call me Dad when you aren’t in pony mode. I commend your eagerness. I don’t want you to hurt your feet by doing too much in one day.”

“We are leaving for Camp Crucible in two weeks. I need all the practice that I can get. I’ll be wearing boots 24/7 there, won’t I, Daddy?”

Peter snickered. I sensed that he noticed that Ellie called him Daddy and assumed she might be trying to butter him up.

“Some events are bare feet, but yes, you’ll be shod in boots most of the time to protect those pretty little feet,” Peter shrugged with a sigh. “You will also be nude or partially nude in front of a lot of strange men who will want to have their way with you.”

“Cool beans!” she snickered and said she couldn’t wait.

“Yeah, well, I am still not sure how I feel about that. You are MY daughter first and my foal in training second. A lot of these men play very rough!” he warned.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Daddy,” Ellie smiled eagerly.

“Just be careful what you wish for, Womble,” he warned, then turned back to Jeff. “I assume you didn’t have to punish them today?”

“No, as I said, they just cleaned. Mom said work first, play after,” Jeff said.

I didn’t even know my son COULD punish me. I wasn’t sure if Jeff did either.

Peter seemed impressed. “Good girl,” he patted me on the bottom. “Go change into something else. I have to go to the hardware store, and I’ll take you guys to dinner as a treat for behaving on the first day.”

He sent Ellie upstairs with me to change, but Jeff and he remained downstairs to talk.

Ellie returned wearing her black leather pony collar and knee-high pony boots. She had some tiny booty shorts on, with a pink sports bra that barely covered her boobs.



Our daughter tends to dress in skimpy outfits, and it was hot outside, but the collar and boots raised some eyebrows. It raised MY eyebrows. Peter seemed mildly annoyed by his daughter’s choice.

“Do you really feel the need to go out in public collared and in the pony boots, Womble?” Peter frowned. He and our son were in T-shirts and jeans – which was typical for them when going out of the house.

“Yes, I’d like to get used to wearing both, and I don’t care what people think, especially at the hardware store. They’ll probably just assume I am a goth chick or something.”

“I wasn’t planning on taking you to a strip club, Ellie. I was afraid that pony training may take over your entire life. I want us to be a normal family.”

“I am sorry, Daddy. Do you want me to take it off?” Ellie pouted. I wasn’t sure if she was being manipulative to get her way or if she genuinely didn’t realize how the outfit was going to get her all sorts of attention. Then again, my daughter is old enough to know that it would.

“No, I think people are going to stare, though,” Peter said.

“So? Let them stare,” Ellie smiled.

“You are eighteen and are old enough that I shouldn’t have to tell you how to dress in public. You are MINE, though, right? So, if I told you that you couldn’t wear that, then you would respect it?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Peter stood silently as if waiting for Ellie to change her mind. She may have had second thoughts. I know I would have in that skimpy outfit. He nodded. “Vixen, go put on your collar and boots. If Dancer is going out that way, then you might as well match.”

I hadn’t been quite so extroverted in what I chose to wear. I picked out something that I would typically wear when handling errands with my husband. It would hardly make me stand out.

I wore a short denim skirt, a more modest top, and a support bra underneath. I wore two-inch heels. The only thing that was a little kinky was that I wore my butt plug under my skirt. That was just for my own amusement and nothing more.

I smiled graciously, nodded, and dashed upstairs. I have been collared in front of kink-friendly people, but this would be my first time going to someplace mundane like the hardware store that way. My husband told me to lose the bra as well, and so I did. The shirt I had chosen didn’t do much to hide my nipples from poking through the material.

I knew couples that lived the BDSM lifestyle 24/7, where the wife wore an “eternity collar.” It was a permanent stainless-steel circle that might seem like a choker. I had heard of women who wore permanent leather collars as well, but I didn’t know any personally.

However, I collected collars and wore different ones to suit my mood, like an accessory. Peter never required me to wear them out to mundane events. I had never tried to wear one out of the house for a trip to the store, and we had never discussed it. I took a moment to fix my makeup and examined myself in the mirror.

The collar looked good on me, but it did stand out and make me look a little trashy. It was what my husband wanted, though, and I didn’t question it. It was actually kind of exciting to me. My nipples naturally extended on their own without any help from me when I got turned on.

When I returned, my husband looked me up and down, licked his lips, and smiled as if he were sizing me up to eat me later. I liked it when he looked famished and hungry for me.



“So, does this mean they are Dancer and Vixen in public?” Jeff asked for clarification as he chuckled about our outlandish get-ups.

I blushed a little as I looked down at my knee-high boots. I wondered how it would seem if I requested to be able to go upstairs and put on jeans. That may make me blend in a little more.

“I don’t think we need to go that far, but I am not going to call your Mom Carmen anymore around the house when I give her a direct order. I am going to address her as Vixen. That was something I did because I didn’t want you guys to think I was an ogre or start calling her Vixen. They are only Dancer and Vixen to YOU in the house, and only for the time they are in training.”

Peter made it clear there were boundaries and said that he had been thinking about Jeff’s request from the night before.

“I want things to be like they were before this all began when the girls are not in pony training. I want a clear delineation between you. I also want you to respect a simple rule of mine: Your Mom is Vixen while she trains with you. It might get very confusing if you need to ask her to sign a permission slip or report card and call her Vixen because your Mom is a natural submissive and might see it as an order. Do you remember yesterday when you told her to strip at the door?”

“Yeah,” Jeff didn’t see the problem with that. He’d seen me nude plenty of times, and he explained that he knew we were going to start.

“I understand, but when she is on the clock, she is Vixen, and when she is off, she is your Mom. She’s ALWAYS going to be on my clock from now on. Got it?”

“Yeah, Dad!”

“Did Vixen screw up today and call you Jeff while you were training her?” Jeff asked as we hopped into his truck. Jeff and Ellie sat in the backseat while I sat up front with my husband.

“She may have once or twice,” Jeff admitted.

“How did you punish her for that?”

“I didn’t,” Jeff said.

“In the future, you are to administer light discipline if either your sister or Mom fails to use the appropriate protocol with you or each other. They both need to be ready for Camp Crucible.”

We didn’t talk much more about ponygirl stuff or BDSM in the car. Jeff didn’t even ask what light discipline was.

Instead, the kids listened to music on their phones in their headphones like they normally did.

The silence was a little awkward while Peter drove to the hardware store. He finally broke the silence and asked me how the day went after he realized the kids weren’t listening.

I bragged about how Ellie had helped with the chores without being told to do it.

“That’s good, and Jeff? Did he check on the work that was performed?”

“No, should he have?”

“Yes, he is a groom. Grooms inspect the ponies in the morning, check on their welfare, and make sure they are fed, watered, washed down, presentable, and going through their paces. He just sat there like a lump and watched?” Peter frowned.

“That’s my fault. I just went into my routine and didn’t direct him. I wasn’t sure how far to go with him.”

“He’s learning to be a groom, and this was your idea. I can’t be home 24/7 to show him how things are supposed to work. You have to direct him on what his job is.”

“It’s hard to be submissive and in charge,” I countered. I didn’t like being the dominant one or directing people. I had a strong personality and will, and I was nobody’s doormat, but I was uncomfortable in leadership roles.

“You aren’t in charge when you are in pony mode. You can still guide, advise, and tell him what I would expect a groom to do in that situation,” he warned me. Then he got Jeff’s attention and told him that tomorrow, he expected him to watch over us and supervise.

“You have a job to do just like the ponies. You wanted to be a groom, so you supervise. That means you check their work and make them do it over if it’s not perfect. You make sure they are not lollygagging and keep up a steady pace. Tonight, I’ll show you some pony techniques, but you are in charge of Ellie AND your Mom when they are in pony mode. You understand that, right?”

“I guess so, Dad. It’s just hard because if I am a hard ass on Mom and Ellie, they will take it out on me after the session.”

Peter got Ellie’s attention, and he made her take out her headphones so that he could address everyone in the vehicle. “Jeff’s job is to watch over you, protect you, guide you, but also to supervise you. He’s concerned about the repercussions of being a hard ass. Jeff is an extension of me, acting upon the authority that I grant him for the four hours of training. If I find out either of you are being brats or trying to discourage him from doing his job by seeking some petty revenge, then this little exercise is over. Is that understood?”

Ellie and I responded by saying we understood. I was glad that Ellie didn’t become defensive because Peter implied that we’d be petty and vindictive, and I didn’t see that happening at all.

“I would expect to hear a yes, Sir, on that one,” Peter added somberly. “I’ll do attitude adjustments for bratty temperaments, but I won’t raise a smart assed masochist or a bratty wife or daughter. By the same token, I want to hear if Jeff is being unfair, cruel, or not paying attention.”

He had just told our daughter that she only HAD to call him Sir during her training sessions. Now, he had changed his mind and wanted a proper confirmation. I felt Peter was confusing her and overly concerned about nothing. There wasn’t any drama that afternoon. I appreciated him saying what should have been obvious to Jeff and Ellie, though.

“Yes, Sir! I wouldn’t be mad at Jeff for doing his job. I’d be mad at him for quitting,” Ellie explained.

“I feel like I am walking on eggshells, Dad,” Jeff admitted. “You said you want me to punish them, but if I am too strict, then you are going to get mad at me?”

“I don’t WANT you to punish your Mom and sister. However, sometimes discipline is required, son. You can spank their bottoms and stand them in position nine or ten, up against the wall. That’s a good correction for calling you Jeff during the training. It’s very uncomfortable. Anything more than that shouldn’t be necessary while you are alone with them.”

‘How many swats, and how long could I make them stand up against the wall?” Jeff asked.

Peter snickered and said that was a good question. “I appreciate your attention to detail, Son. A punishment should always fit the crime, but keep in mind that your Mom has a well-calloused ass. You can give her ten over your knee for something minor, 50 while she bends over for something medium, and at most a hundred. If you do, though, I want you to tell me about it. I am not sure about your sister’s ability to withstand punishment, so ten good solid swats at most.”

I had no idea what constituted a “medium” reason for punishment. I didn’t plan to misbehave, so I didn’t ask for examples.

“I spank Ellie more than that for fun, Dad,” Jeff admitted.

Peter didn’t speak. He was pulling into the Brandt’s hardware store. He seemed to be thinking about what his son just said.

“You like being spanked on the bottom, Womble?”

“You bet!” came her sprightly response.

“Then Jeff isn’t doing it right. I’ll show him how to make them sting and be something to remember. If that doesn’t work, there are other body parts I can graduate to that are far more intimate and personal that will make you think twice about misbehavior.”

“She likes those too, Dad.”

Peter grumbled a little under his breath. “You’ve been spanking your sister’s pussy and tits?”

“Yes,” Jeff admitted without hesitation. Peter had given her some love taps on her cunt and boobs, but he had held back quite a bit.

“You could genuinely hurt her if you strike in the wrong spots. I will demonstrate it to you on your Mother, and we’ll assess it later tonight. However, I don’t want you two training without either Vixen or me present. That is no bueno,” Peter informed Jeff.

It was a little funny to me when my husband used Spanish words. He doesn’t have a Spanish accent, and it sounds stilted and wrong when coming out of his mouth. I was raised as a bilingual, and I think he likes to sprinkle a little Spanish into his English when he is talking to me just to make a point.

“Oh great, I am a practice dummy?” I joked playfully. I really wasn’t worried about it. I liked getting spanked; Jeff needed to know how to do it properly. I rarely got in trouble, and the opportunity wasn’t likely to present itself any other way.

“Practice makes perfect, and you love it, anyway, Lela,” my husband teased right back.

I may have appreciated a chance for some rough play at home. Lela is a name that I didn’t actually appreciate. It meant “Dummy” or “Fool,” and when my husband found something I did particularly silly or stupid, he liked to mock me by calling me Lela.

He once wrote it on my forehead and made me practice in front of my parents that way. I don’t remember what I had forgotten to do right, but I can tell you that I never forgot to do it again after that. He wasn’t the type to use derogatory names or even call me whore or slut unless it was in an affectionate manner.

The kids didn’t know about our secret nickname, but they both spoke a little Spanish and picked up on it. I was thankful that they didn’t rub it in. I squirmed a little in my seat. That was another secret that was out of the bag around my kids.

“You will need to offer up your body for practice if Jeff is going to get comfortable as a groom. I know you are well-behaved, Vixen. You won’t intentionally get in trouble, but Jeff needs to know how to do it, so that means practicing whipping and spanking at times. I didn’t provide a lot of direction today, and that’s on me. I was hoping you could handle the details,” Peter added as he parked.

I felt Peter was being a little passive-aggressive about his criticism. I didn’t know what ‘details’ I should be showing my son and had no training agenda. I didn’t complain, though. I gave my husband the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t intend his tone to come across that way. My husband is more of a “what you see is-is what you get” straight shooter.

We went inside the store. My daughter and I got a few weird stares and looks from the cashiers and customers alike. I felt Ellie could pull it off much better than I could. She looked a little like an angsty teen, but I looked like a housewife in a leather collar and boots, and that probably seemed strange.

I was immediately reminded of my age, and I wouldn’t say that I was jealous of Ellie because no one stared at me. However, I was deeply aware that most eyes were on my daughter’s pretty young body.

I still felt uncomfortable being in public in the outfit. I enjoyed the attention, and as I told my son, I got a thrill out of humiliation.

Going out to a very vanilla place like the Hardware store was a new experience for me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. My pulse was racing, and I felt a vicarious thrill that we could get away with going out of the house like we were dressed.

Peter enjoyed watching my discomfort. Ellie, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease being watched by creepy old men. I am sure she was used to it by now, anyway. She had a growth spurt when she was Jeff’s age, and her tits seemed to grow from puffy little ant hills to perfectly rounded cantaloupes overnight.

“This is why I don’t take your Mom out in her collar. The collar is a constant reminder that she belongs to me, but we have to be sensitive that we might offend families that came to this hardware without any attention of watching two attention whores march around in their leather boots,” Peter explained to us as we acclimated to the store and got shopping carts.

“Yeah, but a lot of dudes seem to be really enjoying it too,” Jeff noticed. Ellie and I didn’t respond, so the guys headed out to the hardware section and split up with us. Ellie and I went to the garden department to look around.

It made me feel naughty to know that I was wearing a butt plug and nobody around me knew how dirty I really was. There were a few men who undressed me with their eyes, but they mostly stared at my daughter.

I might have been jealous if she wasn’t my daughter. In fact, I was positive I would have been jealous of feeling like second fiddle to a hot young girl that belonged to my husband.

“God, that guy is trying to eye-hump me,” Ellie whispered with a chuckle.

“You chose this outfit. Your father didn’t,” I answered. I didn’t want to commiserate with her because the man staring at her intensely ignored me completely. I didn’t intend to sound so sour about our predicament.

Ellie immediately apologized. “I didn’t say that I didn’t like it, Mom,” she added brightly. She played at bending over and made it look like she was going to accidentally lift her shirt just to mess with the guy when he made it obvious that he was following us around. It was obvious that my daughter enjoyed attention as much as she did mischief because her eyes were twinkling playfully as she looked over her shoulder at me.

I put one hand on my hip and observed her confidence. If I was jealous of anything, I was starting to be jealous of the ease at which she could handle being in public dressed as we were.

I noticed a few people watching me walk around as well. The fact that my daughter and I had black leather boots and collars made us seem like a matched set, and that drew people’s eyes to us much more than the short skirt I had on.

I doubted anyone would have really noticed me otherwise.

Jeff and Peter eventually found us in the garden section. Peter went right up to the man who was following us around and confronted him. “See something you like?”

The guy backed down right away. He pretended that he didn’t understand that Peter had caught him ogling us. However, he slunk away quickly, and the situation de-escalated.

“Did you flash your butt plug again?” Peter chided me after the guy was gone and suggested I had been the one to lead him on. I didn’t make a habit of flashing in public unless my husband told me to do it while we were at a bar to seduce some guy.

“Mom, are you wearing a butt plug in Brandt’s?” Ellie smirked and looked at me with a proud gleam in her eye.

I blushed and looked down at my pony boots.

“Lela loves to wear her butt plug, don’t you?” my husband patronized me a little. He was being facetious and didn’t intend to insult me with the name, so I didn’t take it personally.

“Yes, I have it in,” I lowered my voice as a signal to the rest of my family that there were other people in the garden department who might hear us. “It wasn’t me that was egging him on. It was Dancer,” I confessed.

I couldn’t imagine calling her that in mixed company in public, but at the moment, she felt more like a rival pony girl than a daughter, and it seemed appropriate.

[EddieDavidson]

(Reached the max limit characters)


At the time, I told myself that I had addressed her as Dancer on accident, but in reality, it was probably subconsciously my way of transferring the “Lela” nickname to my daughter since she was the one at fault.

“You two are trouble in public places. If you can’t handle yourselves, then I may have to begin Jeff’s training on punishments early,” Peter warned before he and Jeff went back to shopping. I had no idea how we’d get away with that in Brandts and didn’t want to find out.

The guys remained in the garden section. I am not sure what they were looking for, but Ellie and I could hear them talking between the aisles.

“How does it make you feel, thinking your mom and sister are humiliating themselves like this?” Peter asked.

“They are?” Jeff seemed surprised by the question and had obviously never given it much thought.

“Well, of course they are! They asked to be dehumanized and treated like livestock for four hours a day so that we could take them to a camp where they could live out their fantasies as show ponies full-time for a week. You saw how they dressed today. They were clearly goading that man into staring at their hot bodies.”

“Is that really humiliating to them, though?”

“If you were collared, in big leather boots, and dressed like a slut showing off your body to men, wouldn’t you be humiliated?” Peter asked.

“I guess you’re right, Dad. I never thought about it like that. Does that mean they want me to embarrass them? Make them do stupid stuff so that I can laugh at them?”

“There is nothing stupid about being a pony, Son. I am just trying to understand where your head is at about how they are dressed and behaving in public. You’ve never seen your Mom or your sister like this before, have you?”

“Uh, I guess not,” Jeff shrugged.

“I want you to take your job as a groom seriously. I want you to have autonomy to make decisions, and right or wrong, as long as you thought you were doing the right thing, I will stand behind your decision. Would you have told your sister and Mother to dress this way in public if it was up to you?”

“I don’t know,” Jeff shrugged.

“I want you to watch the things that I do and how I do them and think about how you would handle the same situation. That’s the only way you can ever grow from a groom to a trainer, and maybe one day, you’ll have a foal of your own. You shouldn’t copy me, but you should start to identify the traits in Trainers and other grooms when you get to Camp Crucible that you respect, and start to build your own leadership style, son. I am the culmination of years of observing and learning from others. I didn’t just wake up one day knowing everything,” my husband snickered at the last part, making it obvious he was kidding and didn’t really believe he knew everything.

“I get it, Dad. I appreciate that.”

“You saw how I just handled that situation with your Mom and sister and the creep that was staring at them. I saw a potential threat to them, and I dealt with it. Their own desire for attention and mischief got them into that situation. It’s our job to keep them from dealing with the consequences of those actions.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t a consequence of mischief be punishment?”

“This is sort of like explaining a five-hundred-foot-tall elephant to a blind man. I let you touch one part of the elephant, and it may feel soft and wet, but by the time I get you to another part, it may feel sticky, dry, and smell bad,” Peter lamented. “You won’t understand it all overnight, but you are asking the right questions. It’s just not as cut and dry and simple that I can give you a short answer to every question.”

“Okay,” Jeff shrugged.

“Your Mom and sister will face reasonable consequences for their actions as ponies. However, we are also keeping them safe, so they won’t face dangerous consequences that could put them at risk of severe harm, injury, or kidnapping,” he clarified.

“Who is going to kidnap them in a Brandt’s hardware?” Jeff laughed at the absurdity of that scenario.

“This is practice for when you are at Camp Crucible. There are weird perverts everywhere, though, Jeff. I trust your Mom’s judgment, but I also make sure that I don’t put her in situations that are too risky and dangerous. That’s my job, and now it’s your job. I don’t mind them playing around a little in the store; that’s their nature. They both love to flirt, and they both love attention.”

My husband was right about that; I was a little more subtle about it than my daughter, though. She had already caught the eye of some other man who was old enough to be her grandfather. He was asking her questions while staring at her cleavage, and she was eating it up.

“Welts from being corrected, disciplined, or punished are not a laughing matter. They’re earned as much as a blue ribbon in a competition. After a competition, your Mother has often caressed her welts and spent time reflecting on how she got each. For her, it turns her on as much as reminding her of her mistakes. I have yet to see how your sister processes the pain from real discipline, but you won’t be giving little slaps when you correct them. I am not talking about a quick nip from the riding crop to make your Mom lift her legs higher. That isn’t going to be the reminder she needs when she misbehaves. Your response needs to be precise and sting enough to be a deterrent to the behavior that we don’t want so that we get the behavior that we DO want.”

“Does it always have to be painful, Dad?”

“The brain has a way of helping the body out with pain, Son. If your sister is anything like your Mother, the endorphins will flood her system and start to tingle afterward as a signal to her brain to shut off the pain and send signals of pleasure. If I gave her little love taps, then she’d be more inclined to get in trouble intentionally, and that’s not the behavior that I want. That’s how you end up with a smart assed masochist.”

Jeff didn’t know what that was. Peter called it a “SAM” and defined it as a bratty girl who goads men by teasing them so that they are rough with her because she gets off on the pain or maybe endures the pain so she can get the tingles when it’s over.”

“It does sometimes feel like Ellie is poking me just to get a rise out of me,” Jeff admitted. I could see that as well.

“Yeah, women can do that, but that’s why they call this training. We reinforce the behaviors that we want to see, and if we respond to the goading, then we reinforce the behaviors that we don’t want. That’s why it’s tomorrow you take a more active role and discipline them. I’ll show you some techniques tonight.”

“Cool!”

“The pain isn’t permanent, and it’s not going to permanently harm either of them to have a rosy, red ass. It will sting for a little while, and That’s why it has to sting enough to leave a lasting memory, so they don’t want to do it again. In your Mom’s case, you are going to have to be a little rougher than you may want to be, but have you ever heard the term that you have to be cruel to be kind?”

“Not really,” Jeff admitted.

“If your Mother needs to be punished, you need to do it properly. I have a special bra with tacks inside that she wears at times as a reminder not to give me attitude.”

“Actual thumbtacks?” Jeff was dismayed.

“They usually don’t break the skin, and if they do, it’s just the surface. She will put it on herself if you order her to do it; she’ll even soak it in cold water and wear it. I would only require that if she repeatedly broke a rule or fucked up really bad.”

“Why soak it in water?”

“After a few hours, the bra starts to shrink after it was wet and really stings, but I don’t think you’ll need to go that far when I am not there. I just want you to be aware that I may expect you to apply that at Camp Crucible.”

“Does it really always have to hurt, though?”

“As I said earlier, you can put her in the corner, make her hold her ass cheeks apart nice and wide, and push her nose against the wall for ten minutes and give her a little time out. She used to give you time-outs when you were little, didn’t she?”

“Nah, Mom was a softie; she never punished us,” Jeff admitted. He asked if that was intended to humiliate me.

“I suppose so; having to stand in the corner like a little brat, with her hands exposing herself, would probably embarrass her, especially if, at the same time, Ellie didn’t do anything wrong and got positive reinforcement. It’s really intended to give her time to cool down and think about what she did. Not everything has to be a punishment, Son. I’ll also teach you how to reward them by allowing them to do something pleasurable that turns them on.”

“Today, she admitted that it turned her on to be humiliated,” Jeff came right out and told his father. I felt ashamed of myself for telling my son that. I regretted bringing it up. I knew Peter knew on some level, but as that was not his bag, it wasn’t something we discussed.

“She did, did she? I am surprised that she talked to you about what makes her tick. Did she tell you anything else?”

“Not really, just that she was turned on, so I guess dressing like a slut in public is turning her on now,” Jeff theorized. “Aren’t we giving her a positive reinforcement? Isn’t that what you did by calling her Lela to her face?”

He was wrong about that. I was a little excited about the attention, but I also had to shop in this store again, and I was starting to wonder if it was just a matter of time before management came and asked us to leave for being a distraction.

I was also nervous that Peter would punish me for talking to my son about what turns my screws.

“Women are complex beasts, and context matters a lot. You can be fucking a woman in the heat of passion, wind your fingers through the hair on the back of her head, and yank while you fuck the shit out of her, and she might scream in ecstasy. The same move while she is trying to watch a Rom-Com on Netflix, and she will scratch your eyes out.”

I loved eavesdropping on the two of them. I followed them from a distance, trying to blend in on another aisle and not be seen. Ellie grabbed my arm and tried to guide me away and give them some privacy.

“Did you fuck either one of them today or order them to suck your cock?” Peter changed the subject.

“No,” Jeff shrugged.

“Good, I don’t want you fucking them during training. You can get head at the start and end of your training from one of them, but I need you to stop fucking them unless I give you permission. That includes anal. Can you do that?”

Jeff hadn’t fucked me, but I think Peter may have suspected I had seduced my son.

“I can fuck their butts?” Jeff was shocked his father included anal in his instructions.

Peter seemed amused by the question. Ellie pulled me away before I could hear what else they had to say about that.

A little later, while the four of us were together inside the store, Peter was looking for some electric clamps and mechanical doodads he could turn into BDSM gear for our daughter. He was also stocking up on duct tape. I was certain he had some practical use for it around the house, but it was also a critical component to pony play.

We passed a bathroom at the back of the store, and I mentioned briefly that I had to use it. As I started to walk in, my daughter called out to me and said, “Wait, aren’t you supposed to ask the groom permission to use the bathroom?”

She was half-kidding.

“I am not on the clock right now,” I clicked my heels together, stood at attention, and mockingly asked Peter and Jeff if they minded if I used the toilet. There were no other customers or workers nearby, so I felt like I could be a little facetious.

Instead of answering me, Peter turned to Jeff and casually asked how many times he had taken us outside to pee during the day.

“None; they just used the toilet, Dad,” Jeff responded.

“Is that what you are going to do at Camp Crucible, Vixen? Use the indoor toilet?” Peter asked in disbelief. This time, he raised his voice just enough that I was worried someone might actually hear.

“No, Sir, but we just had four hours today. I don’t mind demonstrating the outdoor protocol tomorrow,” I responded politely in a much softer voice to indicate that people might be listening.

“You don’t MIND doing it? As a favor? You WILL do it as practice,” Peter decided emphatically. “I also heard from my groom in training that you liked to be embarrassed. Are you intentionally misleading your groom into thinking ponies use indoor toilets to get punished?”

“Yes, Master, I mean NO, master, I am sorry about that, Sir,”

I knew better than to argue with Peter and offer some sort of flimsy excuse. That would only dig myself in deeper.

“Don’t be sorry. I expect total honesty from you. If Jeff or Ellie asks a question, I want you to answer truthfully and completely. I do not want half-answers and you to leave out details intentionally. If Jeff asks if you are turned on, then you tell him the truth. If Jeff asks if you have a butt plug in your ass, then you tell him. What are you going to do with it when you go into the toilet?”

“Take it out and wash it before returning it to my ass, Sir?” I responded in a hushed tone. My pulse was racing. I was worried we’d get kicked out of Brandt’s for causing a scene.

We didn’t get asked to leave, but I got a lot of strange stares from people who I thought might have overheard the conversation.

“Ellie, are you prepared to give up using the toilet during the four hours of daily training?”

“I guess so,” Ellie made a disgusted face that showed she obviously would rather not.

“You and your Mother will be at Camp Crucible, where the ponies dig the outdoor latrines. I asked you yesterday to think about what kind of pony you wanted to become. Tonight, I’ll show you, and you can decide if this is something you can deal with. You obviously LOVE attention. We’ll see how much you like being watched outdoors.”

Ellie bit her lips and looked down. The matter was dropped, and I used the toilet in the store before returning to my family so we could finish shopping.

My husband didn’t question any of the things I put in the shopping cart and bought all of them, along with the stuff he came there to buy. I haven’t revealed to my kids that I have a spending allowance, and I have to be frugal with it for items that I want. Peter didn’t tell them, and I assumed he was paying for them out of our joint bank account.

He and Peter loaded the truck, and Ellie and I helped. If it was just me and my husband, he probably would have ordered me to load the truck. I wasn’t sure if Peter was expecting me to tell the kids that, as a submissive, I normally do that for my husband. I felt like Peter was testing me to see just how much I wanted to tell them about our life outside of just the pony play.

We do a lot more than that, and we understand that Peter is the boss and wears pants in the family. It has worked for me because it has led to fewer disputes and zero arguments. It has led to very few misunderstandings (with the rare exception of what I was supposed to show the kids while he was away).

I have a sister who never understood pony training and had nothing to do with it. She looks down her nose at me for living the way that I do. She likes her independence, and she and her husband live in a more traditional collaborative marriage.

That may lead to more arguments and drama, but it’s what she wants, and I would never try to talk her into living in a male-dominated relationship. I wondered if Ellie truly understood what it meant to surrender to someone like her father.

I wake up every day knowing what is expected of me. I like doing things for my husband to make his life better. I like pleasing others, and Peter knows that I love sex too. I don’t feel like it’s abuse, but I could imagine some people might think that making me load the truck by myself was cruel or lazy on Peter’s part.