RIDE EM!
by
Richard Schaefer
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Richard Schaefer on Smashwords
Ride Em!
Copyright © 2010 by Richard Schaefer
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Acknowledgements
There is a growing list of people I’d like to thank.
My wife and family who don’t know that I’ve written this and would be shocked if they did.
Dee, a.k.a. ponygirl Ayree Winddancer, my editor and collaborator on "Becca" the first published, but second book, in the Becca trilogy. She first volunteered to look over my efforts and went on to provide many valuable insights into equines of all kinds.
Shyanne, a committed pony in Australia who says she is most happy when in her pony space. She has become my daily inspiration and special friend as I continue to explore the world of the human equine. She has helped catch my errors in this book and her mirror image serves as the cover for this volume. She is also hidden within these pages. See if you can find her.
Curlybill a leather craftsman who specializes in custom made pony tack and said he would be pleased to be my harness maker in the fictional world of the Ride Em estate and what may come later.
Jeff Gord whom many know as the genius behind an array of diabolical mechanical bondage devices which he has kindly agreed I can portray in these pages.
Rebecca Wilcox, author of "The Human Pony", owner of the "Equus Eroticus" web site and magazine, acknowledged expert in the world of the human equine and the person who inspired me to explore this fantastic lifestyle and write about it.
Any number other friends I have made in the fetish community especially at FetLife.com who have inspired some of my characters and/or the various fetish scenarios found in these pages.
The people at Smashwords for giving me the opportunity to offer this book to you.
You readers for having the curiosity to purchase this book and see what I have to say. I would love to hear from you. If you enjoyed it, follow the further adventures in "Becca" and see how everything concludes in "Camp Pony" due out in January 2011.
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RIDE EM!
Chapter index
Chapter 1 – The Founder
Chapter 2 – The Doctor
Chapter 3 - Amber
Chapter 4 - Simon
Chapter 5 - Buck
Chapter 6 - Serena
Chapter 7 – Bob and Ray
Chapter 8 - Mya
Chapter 9 – Claire and Sasha
Chapter 10 – Vickie and Sugar
Chapter 11 – Ginger and Spice
Chapter 12 - Myran
Chapter 13 – Tom
Chapter 14 – Billy Ray
Chapter 15 - Ariel
Chapter 16 - Jake
Chapter 17 - Jett
Chapter 18 – Trixie and Lan Dung
Chapter 19 - Curly
Chapter 20 - Erin
Chapter 21 - Goldie
Chapter 22 - Glen
Chapter 23 - Foxxy
Chapter 24 – Rose and Lucy
Chapter 25 - Slim
Chapter 26 - Jewell
Chapter 27 – Sue Li
Chapter 28 – Devices and Desire
Chapter 29 - Adam
Chapter 30 – Margo
Chapter 31 - Becca
Chapter 1 – The Founder
The pony cart was eased to a stop at the top of the rise and the driver stepped onto the ground. He led the two pony team over to a nearby sapling and wrapped the double reins around it to keep them in place. Some stroking of their heads and flanks let them know he was satisfied with their work and the ponies showed their gratitude by nodding their heads and pawing the ground with their hooves. Each also issued a soft snort as they settled down to rest and wait for their next commands.
The driver stood looking out over the surroundings. He always had enjoyed the view of the estate from this spot. He could remember back to when his father and mother would bring him here to enjoy the open, rolling hills and let him run free in the grass while the ponies were unhitched from the cart and allowed to do the same. It had always been this way. There were always ponies in the stable.
Some people thought his parents to be a bit strange. They lived in the city for most of the year and were an accepted part of the city’s upper crust, social structure. The father had inherited a considerable amount of wealth from his father, who in turn had been the fortunate benefactor of the efforts of his father and grandfather. This was similar to the backgrounds of many others in their social circle.
One strange part of his parent’s behavior had to do with the costume parties they liked to host. The theme always revolved around the guests being required to arrive in costumes meant to portray animals. While they could be dogs, cats, cows, sheep or anything else, ponies were always the favorite of his father and mother. His father would always attend as a riding master and his mother would be fully costumed as a show pony.
Another strange part of their behavior and these parties had to do with the expected scantiness of the costumes, especially for the women guests. As if to make them feel more at ease, his mother, invariably, wore the scantiest costume of them all. It often consisted of little more than leather straps and chains that crisscrossed her chest and buckled in the back. Her breasts were often fully exposed. She did wear a pair of soft leather panties that covered her ass and private parts. The outfitting came complete with a special head harness, a mouth bit and reins his father would use to lead her around the ballroom and a majestic plume rising above her head. She also sported a strap on tail and her hair would be swept to the center of her head and held in place to create the illusion of a horse’s mane. She was further outfitted with piercings in her nipples and belly button to which jeweled pendants could be attached. Silver chaining, ribbons and bells completed the outfitting.
The mother had no qualms about the son seeing her in her form as a show pony. His earliest memories were of an extraordinarily gorgeous creature. Her figure was perfect. Her complexion creamy white. Her hair was a long raven black with almost a deep purple gleam when the sun hit it just right. Her eyes were a violet-blue that penetrated into the very souls of the men who lusted after her. That image haunted him through the years and he became obsessed with finding such a creature for his own. It only grew more intense after her death.
Their life changed during the summer months. Then the family moved to their country estate. It was a totally secluded place. The house had evolved over the generations from a mansion into something more in keeping with European royalty. It was also a place they kept to themselves, except for a very select group of friends who shared their fondness of ponies and their special lifestyle.
The estate was located on an island in a meandering river some forty miles outside the city. At that point the river widened to almost resemble a small lake. The island was quite large, comprising over two thousand acres. It was connected to the nearer shore by a causeway that had a lift bridge over a channel that allowed small boats to pass on the inward side of the island. The entire rim of the island was given over to old growth forest that had never been cut. This had been a concession to the family's desire for privacy, as a considerable part of the family wealth had come from forestry and the island could easily have been totally cleared of trees. A large part of the island's interior, indeed, had long since lost its trees and been given over to grassed, rolling terrain suitable for the riding and enjoyment of horses. The South end of the island ended in a combination of marsh and bogland that could be treacherous as it included some quicksand pools. The North end was rounded and had a small beach that ended in stretches of pebbled banks running up both sides of the island.
The house was midway down the length of the island and stood about a half mile in from the causeway. By now it had become a two story stone structure, almost castle-like in appearance, with rounded bastions at the two front corners and wings running back to form a u-shaped structure with a great number of rooms. The man, now looking towards it from his hilltop position, wasn’t sure if he knew how many there actually were. He was sure he had never been in some of them.
Looking at the surrounding area, he could see stables and other outbuildings located a short distance from the mansion and connected to it by a paved path. The stable again was a massive structure in the shape of a U. The open or central portion of the U was a garden area. Part consisted of trees of a considerable height that grew right next to the stable. The rest consisted of planting beds that could be changed with the seasons and a fenced oval ring that served as a place to cool horses or show them to advantage.
Scattered nearby were other sheds and buildings for machinery, equipment and other items needed to run the complex and the events it now hosted twice a year. A number of paddocks were laid out near the stable and a large oval complex with concentric ovals of paving, dirt and grass was located nearby. It also had a paved section down its middle and bleacher type stands that faced inward, as opposed to outward, on both side of the paved section. They seemed to be for viewing any activity that would take place in the central area.
The man could look on this scene almost every day and never grow tired of it. It was his private retreat. It had been converted by him into all that it now was with patience, the expenditure of quite a bit of money and a total attention to the detail needed to make it into what it now was. That was partly a testament to his father. It was also a memorial to his mother. Lastly, it was his way to enjoy the power and pleasure that came from his passion for ponies and the extension of that power to control those who made use of his very special service.
Each time he visited the hilltop, he always ended his daydreaming by taking the fading newspaper article from his wallet and carefully opening it and reading the story that coldly summarized the things that had changed his life forever. The upper corner bore a date some twelve years earlier. He would have been twenty-nine at the time. His father was then fifty-six and his mother fifty-one. The story was of an apparent double murder and suicide. It said that one Byron Rider had been found in the stable on his estate shot to death together with a young women. The story delicately skirted the fact the young women was rather oddly attired in some kind of leather harnessing and a number of chains and other items that made her look like a pony in tack. Mr. Rider had been shot in the back of his head. The women had been shot between the eyes and through each breast. The apparent suicide had been Mrs. Rider. It did not give her first name which was Rosalyn. She was found in her bath. She seemed to have slit her wrists. The gun used to kill her husband and the woman was found next to the tub. Subsequent tests confirmed there was gun shot residue on her hands. The story said the Rider's only child, a son named Brian, had been out of the country at the time.
The effects of that event had been far reaching. Brian was forced to confront the fact his father had been less than faithful to his mother and must have flaunted that to lead to his mother taking her revenge. It resulted in Brian's being dropped from the social circle he so much enjoyed. The oddness of his parents could be overlooked so long as it was manifested only at parties which passed as being charitable fund raising events. Murder and suicide were entirely different matters. Brian felt these so called social elite were being a bunch of hypocrites. His father had shared secrets with the son about the men of business he dealt with and their spouses. Brian bided his time and considered ways to make them regret their treatment of him and the shunning of his mother's memory. It took time, but eventually he had succeeded and in a way that gave him more wealth and power that he could have ever achieved in their world by playing by their rules.
It had not happened over night. He had gone through a period of several years of being somewhat aimless and adrift. He found his way into the fetish world that had been a place his parents knew very well. He discovered that he liked it and slowly gave himself over to fully exploring the many facets of the varied lifestyles offered. Almost without realizing it, he became viewed as a Dom and a Master. Submissive women seemed drawn to him. He in turn found he greatly enjoyed the feeling of control that came from being in total command of what a woman was willing to do for and to him and accept from him.
As his knowledge and experience expanded, he saw great potential in being able to control more than just the women drawn to him. It became apparent to him that there was a demand for a certain type of woman that the fetish world could supply in considerable numbers. He reasoned that, if he could fulfill that demand, he could make a lot of money and gain control over his clients because of his knowledge of who and what they were.
He would not have understood that his father and mother would have greatly disapproved of what he was planning to undertake. They had embraced the fetish lifestyle. Their particular interest was in ponyplay. The distinction was that they viewed it as a consensual activity, freely entered into and based on specific understanding of established rules of behavior and conduct.
For his part, Brian thought it was what had caused the tragic deaths of his father and mother and, therefore, could be used to extract revenge on those who failed to honor their memory.
The reality was his father had simply fallen victim to becoming middle aged. He allowed himself to be trapped by the allure of a much younger woman he thought he was dominating. He and his wife had trained her as a pony girl. She then used her skills to offer Byron the prospect of returning to being the type of Master he had been in his younger years. His wife had snapped at the threat of losing him to someone she had trusted completely and brought into their home. She had even thought it possible that the woman could be a perfect mate for her son. Her son seemed interested and the woman bore a striking resemblance to the mother that seemed to please the son even more.
What the newspaper account did not include, as there had been no living witness, was that his mother had surprised her husband and the woman by walking into the stall in the stable as Byron was mounting the twenty-four year old who was down on all fours in full pony tack, with head bobbing and loud nickering noises coming from her mouth. She had brought the gun because she had a premonition that something was going on. The first shot had ended his father's life. The second shot silenced the girl's screaming. The final two were for reasons known only to his mother. Each had pierced the very center of one of her breasts through its nipple. This fact had not been a part of the mainstream press accounts.
The story had run in the press for several weeks as increasingly more was revealed about Byron and Rosalyn and their chosen lifestyle. The tabloid press had picked it up and it seemed to develop a life of its own, complete with all the details the major press had left out in deference to good taste. The only one to quickly fade into oblivion was the young woman. She was never identified by name and no one seemed to know where she had come from or how she had happened to be on the estate.
Brian finished his reading of the account for the countless time. He then folded the article and placed it back into his wallet which he returned to his pocket. Tears had begun to streak his cheeks. They always did.
Looking again at the building complex, he saw the horse trailer pull into view from the roadway leading from the causeway. "Good," he murmured and walked over to where the ponies stood waiting. They perked up at his approach and began more head nodding to show their readiness to go back to work. It took a moment for Brian to remember their names and then he freed the reins from the sapling and said, "Okay, Claire and Sasha, time to go back." The two ponies became fully alert and pawed at the ground as Brian took his seat in the cart and clicked his tongue for them to move off as he guided them by pulls on their reins to get them turned in the right direction.
They soon arrived at the stable complex and were met by a handler named Buck who took the reins from Brian as he got out of the cart. The ponies were soon on their way to the stable for a rub down and watering while Brian strode to the horse trailer to check out the new arrivals.
A burly man of well over six feet stood behind the trailer.
"Glad you're back," Brian said in greeting. "Any problems?"
"None," replied the man.
"Are they still sedated?"
"Sleeping soundly. What to take a look?"
"Open it up, Simon. Let's see what we have. I've looked forward to getting these two here for quite a while. Twin ponies are a bit unusual. Their names again?" he asked in a very matter of fact way.
"Ginger and Spice, and you better believe they are named right. They had a fit and put up quite a fight when we first tried to get them into the trailer. Good thing the Doctor sent along those needles. That calmed "em down in a hurry. After that, the loading and transport was no problem," the burly man said with a lightness in his voice that showed he had enjoyed the encounter with the two reluctant occupants of the trailer.
"Glad to hear it," said a smiling Brian.
The man called Simon undid the latch on the trailer doors and swung them open. Inside lay two forms in deep slumber on the floor of the trailer. Brian easily hoisted himself inside and knelt between them. He carefully ran his hands over their bodies and eased them onto their backs to better examine and explore their undersides from head to between their legs. He then rolled them over and did the same on their backsides.
Rising, he motioned for Simon to join him and the two of them eased the sleeping bodies to the rear of the trailer. One and then the other was eased out, turned face up and placed on wheeled gurneys that had been brought by two more handlers. A man in the white coat of a doctor had also appeared with a woman wearing the uniform of a nurse. The man examined the two sleeping forms and said, "They are fine. You can take them to their stalls and settle them in. I estimate they will sleep for at least another three to four hours."
The handlers pushed the gurneys down the path and into the stable as the white coated doctor and the woman followed behind.
Brian smiled with satisfaction and anticipation before slapping Simon on the back and saying, "Good job. That gives us a total of eight ponies in house. Eight more and we’ll be set for the next Fair. Let's go have a drink. You've earned it." The two men walked toward the house.
It was a few hours later when Brian settled into one of the leather arm chairs in his private den with a large brandy snifter on the table by his side. He had enjoyed an excellent meal prepared by his two resident chefs together with the man called Doctor and his nurse, who also served as Brian's Administrative Assistant and was named Amber Cutter.
After dinner, Brian had gone to the stable and checked on his eight ponies now stabled on the estate. Ginger and Spice were beginning to come around and should soon be fully awake and alert. They had been securely tethered in separate stalls and wore blindfolds and foreleg bindings to keep them more docile and free from mischief until the Doctor and Brian could spend time with them and begin their training.
The other six had all been fed and made comfortable for the night. Brian slowly walked down the central alleyway and stopped briefly at each stall. He would first look at the name plate affixed to the door and then study the pony for a while. He had always had a problem with associating a name with its owner. Try as he might, he just couldn't get the knack. Just when he made headway, the auction would be held and he was soon faced with the need to start over with a new pony herd.
As he made his rounds, he stopped by stalls with plaques indicating they contained:
Claire and Sasha who had been his cart ponies earlier that day
Mya whom he knew to be a special favorite of Simon's
Serena who had attributes beyond any of the other ponies
Vickie and Sugar who had both come from farms
Ginger and Spice, the latest arrivals.
At the end of the tour, he retraced his steps and entered the stall containing Serena. The pony had been laying down, but was immediately on her feet as the stall door opened. Brian was pleased at her reception as she pranced in place and nickered at him. He soon was stroking her hair and running his hands down her flanks. She in turn moved into his body to show her submissiveness to his attention and desire for more. It was fully three quarters of an hour before Brian left Serena's stall and made his way back to the house.
Now, satisfied from his meal and visit to the stable, he picked up the brandy snifter, closed his eyes and gave himself over to more recollection and reflection of the past twelve years.
After his two year period of aimless mourning, Brian had decided to learn more about his parent's chosen fetish lifestyle. He hadn't really known where to begin and it had taken him a while to research and explore. A casual lunch resulted in an ally he had not anticipated. She became his mentor and guide as he travelled deeper and deeper into the world of kinky sex and all it offered. Her name was Margo Gullikson and she had been his father's attorney.
She first took him to private clubs so he could experience first hand the many diversions and varieties of fetish life available. Being a Dom herself, she taught him the art and brought him more than one submissive so he could practice and perfect his technique. She was the ideal teacher in that she seemed solely interested in sharing her expertise without concern for personal reward.
It had taken another two years for Brian to develop his skill to the point that he now exceeded his mentor both in technique and in an all consuming passion to bend people to his will and use them totally to his advantage.
While his personal transformation was taking place, the estate was also being changed. The stables had been expanded by adding a second wing and could now easily accommodate thirty or more ponies. The odd thing was that the real horses and ponies that had been kept there were suddenly moved to another location and the interior of the stable given a complete overhaul to make the stalls an odd combination of being both animal stall and simple, but adequate, space for a human.
The outside area was not ignored. It was now that the special paddocks and show area were constructed. Brian had also become aware of a man greatly admired in the bdsm world for his clever designs for mechanical devices that could be used to erotically display tightly bound creatures in erotic ways while subjecting them to extremely unusual treatment using both mechanical and electronic devices. This bdsm genius was approached with the idea of buying devices from him. To his credit, he declined, sensing something excessively sadistic in his potential client's reasons for wanting his devices. Brian, therefore, had to go through the extra effort of hiring specialists capable of copying the devices and even designing ones based on ideas they developed themselves or found on the web sites that eventually appeared on the Internet featuring the other man's work.
Brian especially enjoyed thinking back over the recent years. As he did, he opened his eyes and looked at the collection of pony photographs on the wall opposite his desk. Each of his special Fairs held memories of ponies that had held a particular fascination, if even for only a fleeting time. He spent quite a while looking at the collection of twenty very special ponies. They were all in full tack and posed to show them to best effect. Some were prancing. Some were simply standing. Others were down on all fours with their asses presented to the viewer while they looked back over their shoulders. Some were black haired. Some red. Some blond. Some auburn. Some brown. All naked, except for their harnessing. All wearing hooved boots on rear legs and some on their forelegs as well. All were young, no more that twenty-eight with most in their early twenties. Twenty-eight might be old for a horse, but not for a human pony and that was what they all were. They were the best of Brian's stock from the first four years of his ever expanding enterprise. They had been acquired by him. They had been bent to his will and trained by him to provide unquestioning obedience and pleasure to their ultimate owners. In return, Brian had gained control over those owners by knowing the secret of their special needs and desires. He used that to acquire an ever expanding array of enterprises designed to bring him more wealth and power. He saw it as a cycle that could go on for years and years. The only issue was one of having an adequate staff and the continued ability to remain under the radar of those who did not share his vision of the lifestyle he followed and helped others to enjoy as well.
Willing himself back to the present, Brian thought about the immediate future. He needed to spend some time evaluating his current staff and any need for expansion. At present, he had the Doctor as his dedicated medical service provider. The man had been a recognized leader in his field of cosmetic and reconstructive surgery until a case of arrogance and the doctor "God" complex got in the way. That was bad for the Doctor, but worked very well for Brian.
The Doctor was assisted by Amber, who was a qualified surgical nurse and doubled as Brian's Administrative Assistant.
His primary goto guy was Simon Kolnikov. Simon had been with him almost from the beginning. Brian had been made to feel it was best not to question him too closely on his background. Brian knew he was of Russian extraction. At one time he had hired a PI firm to look into the man. The firm had come up empty. Brian knew he needed to learn more. Unknowns were dangerous.
The remaining house staff consisted of two cooks. One preferred the title chef. The other hardly spoke intelligible English. Both were female.
The balance of the staff was composed of eleven pony handlers. Along with exercising and helping with basic pony training, they also handled building and ground maintenance. They were a mixed group who shared two very important characteristics. None of them wanted anyone to know where they were and none of them wanted to leave anytime soon. At least that's what Brian thought. He sometimes wondered about one in particular. There was something about that one. Again, Brian had tried without success to learn more. The nagging doubt would stay in the back of his mind. The man was here. He knew a lot. He was the best handler in Brian's employ. Still, Brian could only hope he had not made an error in judgement that he would live to regret.
Swirling the amber liquid around the snifter, Brian finished off the excellent brandy and took the glass to the built in sink. He cleaned up and gave a final look at the wall gallery of his favorite ponies. He wondered which might prove to be the best of the current herd. He had now acquired eight. Eight more would be arriving over the next few weeks. He had seen their photographs. The group held promise. Even better, Margo had said she might have a very pleasant surprise. She wouldn't say much for now, but led Brian to believe she might have found a truly one of a kind pony and would keep him informed.
With that thought in his mind, Brian turned off the lights and headed for his room. It had been a good day. Tomorrow would be even better.
Chapter 2 – The Doctor
After dining with Amber and Brian, the Doctor had considered checking on his latest patients until he saw Brian walking toward the stable. He felt he knew what Brian would do while there and he had no desire to be a witness. He has not a prude, but it did not seem right for Brian to use the ponies in that way when they were not able to give their consent. He was becoming increasingly morally torn as the years passed.
When in practice, he had prided himself on his adherence to the ethics of his profession. He still felt he had been ethical when he made his mistake. His concern then had been for his patient and what he firmly believed was in that patient’s best interest. His mistake had been to allow his arrogance to overrule what should have been his sound judgment.
The girl was in her early twenties. She and her fiance had attended a party where they had both enjoyed a few drinks more than they should, especially if one was going to drive home. That drive ended in a fiery crash that left the young man, who had been driving, and the driver of the other car dead. The girl had been dreadfully burned over seventy percent of her body. The girl's parents were well off financially and highly connected socially. Although the doctor didn't know it at the time, they had known Brian's parents and shared some of their interest in the fetish lifestyle. The girl often fantasied herself as a wild cat, a tigress to be exact.
He had been brought in as a consultant. An examination clearly indicated the young woman would be scarred for life. Some of the damage could be dealt with, but much scarring would remain, especially on what had been a very beautiful face based on the pictures the doctor had seen as part of his examination and consultation.
For a number of years, the doctor had been working on a new treatment involving the use of a bio-engineered skin. The groundbreaking research had been begun by a cosmetic surgeon in Australia. Her work had looked very promising and the doctor had been exchanging research notes and results with her for some time. As with many new techniques, funding became an issue. The problem was compounded by the bureaucratic morass in the US that slowed progress to a snail's pace and made getting approval for clinical trials all but impossible. The doctor was positive his treatment would work and lost all patience with the FDA’s foot dragging. He could not understand how they could let years go by with an ever increasing population of badly scarred people who could benefit from his new treatment. The need became all the more apparent to him with the large number of burn victims from roadside bombs in Iraq and Afghanistan They needed his skill and help. He knew it would work. Lab tests told him it would. Early animal experiments were very promising. He simply needed to show them one human success case and everything would fall into place. A Nobel in medicine would be a certainty.
They say pride goes before the fall. Arrogance and possessing a "God" complex only aided in easing his way to the fatal decision that led to his fall and ruin.
After completing his examination, he met with the girl's parents and told them he could make her almost, if not completely, as good as new. The tears of joy from her mother and the effusion of thanks from the father only increased his determination to treat the girl.
He explained the procedure and obtained their signature on the required consent form. Though of legal age, the girl was so heavily sedated as to make it impossible for her to do so and the parents possessed the necessary power-of-attorney to decide for her and act on her behalf.
The doctor next went to the hospital's pre-surgery authorization committee and presented his request to treat the girl with his new procedure. He was shocked when they turned him down. He futilely argued his case. In the end, he left without the needed authorization. Rather than accepting their decision, he returned to the parents and told them the procedure had been approved, but needed to be done at his private clinic because that was where he had the necessary equipment to prepare the skin culture and apply it.
The parents thanked him and wrote a check to cover the initial cost after he told them he hated to ask, but needed the money to continue and they would be reimbursed by their insurance company.
The girl was moved to his private clinic and he began the treatment process. It wasn't long before he realized he had made a dreadful error in judgment. The process was not yet ready for use on a human. He then compounded his error by allowing his ego to get in the way. Rather than stopping, he forged ahead. He hoped against hope the applications would bond the way they were supposed to and provide at least an acceptable degree of success he might be able to improve upon by future treatment. He was wrong. The new skin would not bond to the girl's ravaged flesh. It merely sloughed off to become a mass of useless glop. His only consolation was the knowledge she would be no worse off than if he had never tried at all. He had failed, but he had done no further harm.
That was not the way her parents viewed it. They initially considered him merely an opportunist. They soon considered him a fraud as their insurance company refused the claim as stemming from an unapproved procedure. The hospital then got involved, in no small measure to protect themselves from what they and their lawyers knew was about to happen. They revoked his hospital privileges and reported him to the state licensing board and to the various associations of cosmetic surgeons who quickly acted to remove him from their roles. He was left to feel betrayed by how quickly they could all act to distance themselves while they had moved so slowly to support his efforts to perfect his treatment.
The next step had been the malpractice law suit. The parents asked for an amount that would totally bankrupt him. The lawyer he went to informed him they were likely to win. He had no one in his corner. They contacted the cosmetic surgeon in Australia who replied their treatments were not the same. She stated she had correspondence in her possession indicating she had voiced concerns as to his findings and urged caution until they could be checked and clinical trials made in both Australia and the US. His lawyer said he should prepare for the worst. She then offered him a way out.
Faced with no alternatives, he waited in her outer office while she made a phone call. It took about thirty minutes before the intercom on the secretary's desk sounded and he was told to go back into the lawyer's private office. An hour later and he was on his way out to return to his condo and pack whatever he wished to take with him. He was advised to pack light. His needs would be taken care of once he reached his destination. He was to expect a limo in a few hours that would transport him to his new place of residence. He was to have no contact with anyone in the interim and leave no messages of any kind as to where he had gone. He numbly nodded his head to indicate he understood and left. Leaving the lawyer's office suite, he looked back at the door he had just exited. Where was Margo Gullikson sending him and what, exactly, would he be doing?
That had been almost five years ago. During those years he had served Brian Rider as his in house medical staff at Ride Em. It had been a comfortable life. The demands were not severe. His patients invariably arrived in good to excellent health. His main tasks had been to use his knowledge of mind controlling drugs to keep them docile as they underwent pony training. He was also asked to and succeeded in developing compounds that greatly increased the sexual urges of the ponies. The oddest request was to try to develop drugs that would cause the women to develop an equine mentality and result in their thinking and acting more like an equine than a human. Again, he had succeeded although this tended to vary depending on the pony. Some seemed better able to withstand the effects. He also knew the result was, quite likely, reversible so lone as the drugs were not overused or administered for more than a year. This initially allowed him to rationalize what he was doing and live with himself. He felt he had not sunk to the level of a Dr. Mengele. However, he knew he was close and it began to bother him to a greater and greater extent.
The upside, if there could be one, was the fact Brian was willing to fund his renewed work on his bio-engined skin treatment. In the nearly five years since arriving at Ride Em, he had made great strides. He now had a technique for applying a breathable latex hide over existing skin. It was not a skin to skin bonding. It needed to be applied over a layer of nylon. It did have the attributes of shrinking slightly as it cured, thus forming a totally flexible layer over the wearer's body that fit as closely as skin itself, and allowing for the wicking of moisture away from the skin while allowing the inflow of air to the real skin under the garment. He could duplicate any color including a close approximation of human "white" flesh.
He had wished on more than one occasion to have been able to use this material on the young woman he had left so horribly scarred.
The second advance was even more dramatic. He was sure he had almost solved the bonding problem for his bio-engined skin. Recent animal tests had been most encouraging. He felt certain he would solve all but one of the final problems in another six months to a year. The one unfortunate problem that still had him stymied was that he could not replicate the color of Caucasian flesh with his bio-engineered skin. Every other color seemed possible. What should be the simplest remained a mystery.
This then had been the doctor's life since coming to Ride Em. He had medically tended some one-hundred ponies. Each group had moved on to be replaced by a new herd and the process repeated. The closeness of his final success provided the peace of mind to lock out what he had become a party to. Still, the oath he had taken to do no harm lurked and caused him to doubt.
He also was lonely. He had never been much in favor with the ladies. He was excellent at making them look better than God ever intended. They admired him for that. They seemed to admire his wealth as well. However, truth be told, as arrogant as he was as a doctor is how submissive he was as a man and this seemed to turn them off to a great degree. His days were busy. His nights were lonely. His only confidant was his nurse, Amber, and she did not seem interested in men.
Chapter 3 – Amber
Amber's room was located at the end of the wing most directly overlooking the stable complex. It enabled her to look out over the grounds and easily see anyone going from or to the house and the stable. She felt a need to visit one or more of the ponies, but knew that Brian was in the stable. What she needed was best done when he was not present, so she watched and waited. Brian at last emerged from the stable and strode, purposefully, to the house. Amber waited some twenty minutes and then left by a side door so as not to go by Brian’s private den, and quickly made her way to the stable. She was wearing a black satin robe. Under that, she was naked.
Once in the stable, she quickly walked the length of the central alleyway and checked first on Claire and then Sasha. Making her decision, she entered Claire’s stall. The pony was instantly prancing in place, nickering, snorting and bobbing her head.
All her tack had been removed earlier by her handler and she was totally nude. Her hair had been released from its ponytail and cascaded down, over her shoulders, to between her shoulder blades. It was a beautiful ash blond of different shades. Her sparkling hazel eyes gazed at Amber in anticipation. Amber made a shushing sound as she let her own eyes wonder down Claire’s front. The pony’s breasts were well formed and her nipples now jutted out with desire. The area below her navel and down between her legs had no sign of hair. It was likely it never would. Amber saw the clear signs of wetness beginning to develop between the pony’s legs. She eagerly moved in close to stroke the pony, first her flanks, then her breasts and, finally, between her legs. Claire’s excitement steadily increased and she began making deep moaning sounds at the pleasure she was experiencing. Amber took hold of a foreleg and directed Claire to lay down on her blanket.
Once Claire was positioned the way she wanted, Amber dropped her satin robe and eased down over the reclining pony and went to work licking her clit and then the rest of her pussy. She inserted her tongue into Claire’s slit and worked it deeper and deeper. Claire’s back arched and her moans increased in volume. Amber straightened up and swung her body around to present her ass to Claire’s head. The pony knew what was expected and went to work servicing Amber’s pussy while Amber resumed doing the same for Claire. Both were soon lost in the complete pleasure and sensation of their actions. Their mutual wetness grew until their bodies shuddered in climax and Amber collapsed onto Claire’s body.
They lay this way for a few minutes and then Amber eased off of the pony and moved beside her so they could hold each other and stroke each other in gentle exploration. After nearly an hour, Amber rose and replaced her robe. Claire looked at her sadly, knowing she was about to be left alone, and gave a plaintive nicker from her bed. Amber smiled and bent to her to offer a parting kiss as her tongue slid into Claire’s eager mouth.
Leaving the stall, Amber almost went to Sasha whom she could here in the next stall. The pony had obviously heard the two of them and wanted her own share of Amber’s attention. Regretfully, Amber decided she best not push her luck. She whispered, "Tomorrow, Sasha my sweet," and returned to her room.
After a quick shower, Amber was soon in bed. The satin sheets caressed her naked body and her fingers soon were at work providing some, still needed, pleasuring of her, almost insatiable, sex urges. Those urges had been what caused her to be at the estate. Her skill as a surgical nurse had been what had allowed her to be in her room and not in the stable or who knows where.
As she continued to stroke herself, she thought back to where she had come from and what she had experienced during her journey from then until now.
Amber had first realized she might be considered "different" when she started high school. When her girl friends began to get all "funny" when around boys, Amber found she most enjoyed being in the shower room looking at the girls. One day she noticed one of the girls seemed to enjoy the same thing. A few days later, the girl had sat down next to Amber in the cafeteria. She had introduced herself as Gwen and remarked how pretty she thought Amber to be. A little girl chitchat had followed and then Amber had felt the hand in her lap followed by the pushing into the folds of her skirt as the hand worked between her legs. Amber had almost pulled the hand away. Instead, she found her hand repeating the action between Gwen’s legs and Gwen beginning to issue a, soft as a whisper, moaning sound from deep within.
The sudden attention directed their way by one of the cafeteria monitors had caused them to both giggle and bring their heads together as if sharing some teenager secret. It worked to cover the attention directed at them and Amber heard Gwen whisper, "I’ll wait for you after school. My Mom works. You can come home with me. We’ll be all alone. Okay?" Amber breathed her reply, "That will be so fun."
The two of them had become fast friends from that first afternoon. They were inseparable. They made it a point of trying not to be obvious when in school. An occasional meeting in the restroom was the most they risked. Even then, they had to be alert for an unexpected arrival by another student or, worse, teacher. They had one or two close calls, but thought their secret was safe. It turned out not to be quite so. Girls pick up on things.
In their sophomore year, the whispers started. The knowing looks and head bobs in their direction followed. The two didn’t care. It even had the benefit of bringing them a couple of additions to their sisterhood which they soon formalized as a club, calling themselves "The Sisters of Bilitis". By graduation, they numbered nearly a dozen. Prom night was, in a way, their coming out party. They all went. None had a male escort. School officials didn’t know what to make of it and, being the intelligent group they were, chalked it up to there being more girls than boys in the senior class.
The sisters laughed themselves silly at their post prom party at the home of one of their number, whose parents were conveniently out of town. The parents would have been proud to know that there were no drugs or alcohol used. The sex was also quite safe. No one would be getting pregnant. In short, it was a great time for the sisters with no worry about later regrets.
Amber had kept in contact with the sisters even though they went different ways after graduation. Though not going to college, Gwen had remained a close friend until the summer between Amber’s sophomore and junior year of college. Amber had gone on a vacation to the Bahamas and come back baked an all over brown. She eagerly called Gwen to set up a meeting to show off her total body tan. Gwen’s mother had broken down at hearing her voice and struggled to regain her composure before being able to tell Amber that her daughter was dead. She had gone to the public pool with some friends. No one seemed to know how, but she apparently had dived into the pool, struck her head and drowned without anyone having noticed. Amber was shocked into silence. Gwen’s mother called her by name several times before Amber hung up the phone. She had never spoken to the mother again. The pain had simply been too great.
The event changed Amber’s direction in life. She decided to enter medicine and changed to premed in the fall. She excelled. She could do no less for her sister.
While she completed her undergrad studies, Amber was drawn to the kinkster lifestyle. She found she liked the clubs and activities. She liked roll-playing and was a natural as a latex wearing nurse. Giving gynecological exams to women turned her on the most. Giving faux shots to men was a close second. She wasn’t much interested in causing pain to women. Now men, that was an altogether different matter.
Amber also thought about her options as she neared college graduation and finally decided she was not quite suited to be an actual doctor. For one, she doubted she could afford the cost, let alone the time to complete her studies. For another, she really didn’t want to spend time with male patients. She at last decided to pursue becoming an RN First Assistant. This would put her at the top of the heap in terms of being trained to assist doctors in surgical procedures and post operative care. She next gave thought to any particular facet of surgery that most interested her. The realization was quick and sure. She would strive to be an RN First Assistant in the field of cosmetic and reconstructive surgery. It would be a perfect fit. Working for the right doctor, she could mostly avoid male patients. She could help make women more beautiful or help them become restored from accidents or disease. She would have access to them and they might be willing to show their appreciation for her help in their treatment in ways other than money.
She had started her studies at twenty-one and it took seven years to become qualified, including a Masters degree. She had been employed by a well recognized hospital where she planned on staying until finding the type of doctor she wanted and who needed a personal surgical assistant. Things looked good. Then she entered a patient’s room well after visiting hours and eased into the patient’s bed for some much needed relaxation. She had done this before and had no reason to expect this visit to be any different.
The patient was under sedation and would never know of the visit, except in this case her family had had her moved to another room that evening and Amber had failed to check the chart at the foot of the bed. The next thing she was aware of was the sound of the voice of the floor nurse bursting into the room and shouting for security upon turning on the lights and seeing two people in the bed.
As expected, Amber was summarily dismissed and her file marked to indicate she was never to be recommended favorably to any other hospital or doctor. The hospital’s lawyer had worked to hush things up with the patient and her family. The hospital’s assurance that the nurse would never work in medicine again, the canceling of all hospital charges, covering of the surgeon’s fees and a not insignificant payment for mental anguish worked to seal their lips.
That evening Amber sat in her apartment in total depression and despair. She had squandered her education. She had destroyed any chance to honor her friend’s memory by providing medical service to women in need. As she contemplated using the pills she had in her medicine cabinet, the phone rang.
An hour later, Amber was seated across from the attorney at one of her favorite kink clubs. She had been more than a little surprised that the attorney suggested they meet there and seemed to be known by the people behind the bar, the waitress and some of the patrons who stopped at the table to say hi. The lawyer asked her what she would like to drink and placed the order. While they waited, Amber suddenly found the attorney’s hand on her thigh and the beginnings of a soft stoking of her leg. She new immediately she had been found by a new friend and looked at her with appreciative eyes.
"I am so sorry about today, my dear. However, you really have no one to blame but yourself. Such an error in judgment and fundamental error in medical practice. I mean, not to have checked the chart!"
Amber could find no words to reply.
"Well, here are our drinks. Let me propose a toast to better days ahead," and she clinked glasses with Amber who took a deep swallow and sighed.
It was only a few minutes before the room seemed to start to sway and Amber felt herself becoming quite disoriented. As her vision blurred, she saw a large man approach. The lawyer and the man exchanged words which Amber could not hear. He then lifted her up from her seat and supported her as all three of them exited the club. A large white limo stood outside. Amber was helped into the back and was soon unconscious. The lawyer leaned in and gave her sleeping form a kiss, messaged her breasts and closed the door. The man got in on the driver’s side and the limo was soon on its way out of town towards the river road. Amber was not quite yet twenty-nine and embarking on the next phase of her life.
She had awoken to find herself totally naked. As her eyes focused, she saw she was in what must be a horse stall. She was laying on a blanket. Her arms had been secured behind her back in some kind of leather sleeve that was laced up from her wrists to above her elbows. The sleeve in turn was secured by a chain to a large metal ring on the wall.
With effort, she had been able to rise. Her now clearing mind, next sensed there was something wedged between her teeth that pressed down on her tongue and was securely strapped around her head. She tried to shout out and found she could only make gurgling sounds through the saliva that dripped from her mouth. She pulled against the arm restraint and then yanked at it with all her strength. She stamped her feet in anger and frustration and was at last able to make a sound of sorts that almost seemed to be that of a horse in anger. She kept it up and at last heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
The stall door opened and a smiling man stood in the entrance. He wore tight riding breeches and a white shirt open to mid chest that showed a mass of black curly hair. He carried a riding crop in one hand.
"Ah, I see you are awake. Have a good sleep?"
She stomped in anger.
"Oh, upset are we? Well, let’s try to make you feel better."
He came to her side and started to stroke her sides and fondle her breasts. For her part, she tried to stomp on his feet and kick him. All she succeeded in doing was to hurt her bare feet.
"Good thing you aren’t shod. That would have hurt. Now settle down," and he gave her a solid swat on a bare thigh with the crop.
She winced and tried to back away only to receive an even harder swat and the command, "Stay!"
Recognizing the futility of acting up, she stood still as the man resumed his stroking of her body. She only moved when he ran his hands between her legs and pushed his fingers into her slit.
She heard, "Ah, you are a lovely specimen," when he was at last done and stepped back from her. "You would make a fine pony. Then again, the Doctor would be disappointed. He says he needs a nurse and you seem to be quite qualified to fill that need. I also know you aren’t interested in fulfilling any of mine. The Doctor might be able to alter that. We’ll see. For now, you need to learn your place and accept your role in things around here. Are you willing to do that?"