Excerpt from: "Ponygirl Village" by Simon Grail

 

This is Saffron, Parson Brown's ponygirl.

She is tall and lean and has ash-blonde collar-length hair that frames a high, intelligent forehead and a neat nose. Her mouth is well-formed but currently stretched wide by the rubber bit clenched between her white teeth. The bit is hooked to large cheek rings held in place by thin bridle straps that go under her chin and over the bridge of her nose and across her forehead and over her crown. Her modestly sized but shapely breasts are set well up her chest and carry plump, pink uptilted nipples. Her slender hips flare out into deep cleft buttocks and strong but not overfull thighs. Her calves are sturdy like all ponygirls' must be. Her pubic mound has been waxed to smooth naked perfection by her Master's own hands.

She is not shod. Parson Brown likes to keep her feet bare, and not simply for the aesthetic pleasure they give him. Sometimes he must make house calls at odd hours about the village to deliver the last rites, or give comfort and consolation, and he does not want to make more disturbance than he must.

Saffron is waiting outside the lych gate of the church while her master chats to the last of the morning's congregation. Harnessed to his neat black single-seat carriage chair with its black canvas hood, she shuffles her padlock-hobbled feet impatiently. The reason for her distress is that her tapered leather crotch strap is tormenting her pussy, whose plump lips curl about it, filling it with a need that can only be satisfied by a long, hard canter.

Her crotch strap is connected via a large ring to a broader strap that runs up to the heavy belt buckled about her waist. Rings on the sides of this couple with rods that connect with the steering frame of the carriage. Another strap runs up from her belt between her breasts where it divides in two to pass around her neck. It joins again between her shoulders and runs down to the belt once more. A broad collar with a tether ring at the front is bound about her neck.

Finally his duty is done and Parson Brown can attend to his frisky filly.

A strange pair they look: the tubby cleric and his slender blonde ponygirl, but there is a deep understanding between them. Reassuringly he pats and strokes her and then unlocks her ankles. Immediately she spreads her legs wide. His fingers slip under her crotch strap and into the soft hot folds of her deep-cleft pubes and samples her wetness.

'You need a good run home, girl,' he says, wiping his slippery fingers on her rump.

Saffron tosses her head eagerly in assent.

She is aware of his weight through her harness as he settles himself in the chair and takes up the steering tiller. Steel cords running through the expanding rod coupled to the back of her collar link the handles to her rubber bit. Like every ponygirl Saffron shivers with excitement as she feels him take control of her and surrenders herself to his will...