EXTRACT FOR
The Pony Girl Diva
(Jim Lyon)

The introduction to Sarah's Song started with an ethereal lead guitar riff accompanied within seconds by two kettledrums beating a rhythm that first mimicked the trotting clip clop then the galloping clatter of horse hooves. It signaled to the audience that the centerpiece and finale of Mona's concert-the mega hit that propelled her to international superstar status-was finally beginning. Waiting backstage, Mona was slipping into a semi-hypnotic state as she anticipated her entrance and the approaching opportunity to once again indulge her pony girl fantasy before thousands of fans without them knowing that's what she was doing.

A single spotlight followed Mona as she bounded on stage in her barely-there costume, which consisted of a leather body harness with strategically placed straps, a headpiece that accentuated her hair coiffed to imitate a horse's mane, faux hoof leather gloves and boots, and a long flowing tail protruding from her rear end. The crowd roared as she belted out the opening lines:



She is the mistress of my reins,

And she revels in causing me pain.

She has left her mark upon my soul,

Just by introducing me to my role.



Six dancers similarly dressed joined Mona on stage and danced in unison spread out behind her as she strutted back and forth and continued to sing the song's dark and suggestive lyrics to her screaming fans. Very soon another dancer appeared in a costume that was a stylized replica of an English riding outfit, complete with tall boots and a riding crop. She and Mona began dancing together in a strange and ominous duet that was mesmerizing.

As Mona continued to sing, the woman began chasing her menacingly swishing the riding crop as she did so, Mona occasionally turning to entice her coquettishly. When the blows began to land Mona became increasingly docile, until finally standing still while her pursuer attached a sulky to her harness. Mona's dancing partner climbed aboard the sulky took the reins and cracked her whip, prompting Mona to pull the buggy offstage while reprising the song's opening lines and triggering a cacophony of hoots, whistles and shouts from the spectators. As the lights dimmed the music built to a crescendo that ended the show.

The applause and cheers continued long afterward even as the auditorium slowly emptied.  Meanwhile Mona unwound in her dressing room, savoring the magic that the fantasy held for her as long as possible, reluctant to take off her pony gear. It never failed to amuse her that everyone accepted her explanation that the ponies and everything else in the song and routine were metaphors for a tortured love affair. No one had even thought to ask who Sarah was. What would they think if they found out that Sarah was a character in her favorite pony girl book, the content of which had significantly influenced Mona's sexuality?

Eventually she forced herself to remove the gloves and shoes. Next the headdress came off and then the harness. Mona stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at her reflection, standing naked save for the tail attached to the butt plug in her rectum, her long hair disheveled and wild looking.

Delighted with the untamed creature reflected in the mirror, she placed a hand between her legs and began pleasuring herself. Mona tenderly rubbed her clitoris and as it became inflamed she slapped it hard several times then squeezed it tightly between her fingers. While she continued abusing her nub she slowly inserted two then three fingers into her pussy and commenced fucking herself vigorously, always watching the naked pony girl looking back at her wantonly. She squeezed hard every time the pleasure threatened to bring on a climax, finally stopping the vaginal penetration altogether and concentrating on slapping and pinching her clitoris ever harder until ultimately a deliciously raunchy orgasm emerged from the pain.



***



Seemingly endless expanses of farmland flew by as Mona gazed out the windows of her luxury touring bus. She'd lost count of how many times she had crisscrossed the country hitting every major concert venue. The first five or six times it had been fun and exhilarating, she had poured herself into putting on the best possible performance she was capable of. But not anymore, the thrill was definitely gone. Long gone.

"Yeah, I get it, Joyce, you're trying to be the adult in the room," she told her longtime manager and confidante.

"Sure, I could shoot myself in the foot if I stop touring, lose the momentum and people might find someone else to fixate on instead of me. But I'm burned out and I need a rest. Do you want me to have a meltdown like Britney?"

"No, of course not, but you've got contractual obligations."

"Work it out. You're my manager, so manage. Do what I need you to do. You work for me not them."

Joyce frowned as she considered what Mona said.

"TCM is going to be pissed. I can hear Ted now, 'You can't just stop cold.'"

"Fuck 'em. I'm giving them plenty of time to get their ducks in a row. You've got six months to wind things down. After that I'm on strike for a year. No tours, no interviews, no anything. I don't even want a post card from you until I tell you otherwise. Money isn't an issue anymore. If I never make another album or put on another concert, I have enough money to keep me in the lap of luxury for two or three lifetimes."

"I'll see what I can do," Joyce said with a resigned sigh.