The Summer I Spent Trained as a Mare

Classes at the university had finally ended and everyone was packing up to go home or head off on vacation. I had two full months ahead of me to rest from exam stress, and unlike my classmates, I already knew exactly how I was going to use them.

My destination was Damián’s farm, an old family friend who lived on the outskirts of the city. I had been there many times as a little girl, when my parents visited him, but in recent years I started going alone. And I had my reasons for doing it that way: I didn’t want anyone at home to understand too soon what my new obsession was.

I packed a light bag and took the first taxi that came by. I was wearing sneakers, denim shorts so short it made me laugh to see the driver searching for my reflection in the mirror, and a tiny blouse with no bra so my figure would be impossible to miss. My hair was pulled back in a high ponytail.

Anyone would have said I was traveling with a sign hanging between my breasts. But no, this time I wasn’t looking for any of that along the way. At least, not yet.

When I arrived, I paid the taxi driver and pretended to be careless as I adjusted my blouse. I swear I saw his eyes lock onto my cleavage during the brief second I gave him. I smiled inwardly and got out.

The house was a quiet place in the middle of the countryside: a wooden fence, old trees, a barn, a stable, the fresh clean air I never found in the city. I took my bag and went to knock on the door.

Damián opened shortly after and welcomed me with a warm hug before letting me in. But this wasn’t just an ordinary vacation visit, and he made that clear right away.

—Leave that there and get ready —he said, in that calm voice that made my skin prickle.

I smiled, knowing perfectly well what he meant. But let me explain a little.

Two years earlier, during one of my visits, I had accidentally discovered that he kept magazines and books about BDSM and, specifically, ponyplay. When he caught me leafing through them, he got nervous, almost frightened. I, instead of being put off, started doing my own research. Seeing myself reflected in those images, imagining myself in those situations, got me hotter than almost anything.

So the next time I confronted him. Well, rather, I begged him. I pleaded with him to train me as his pony. At first he kept his distance, refusing again and again, but I insisted so much and showed so much interest that he finally gave in. Since then there had been many visits, many routines, and I had learned to enjoy and relish this little secret life we shared.

***

Back in the present, I was already unlacing my sneakers and undressing in his living room. I folded my clothes carefully and put them in the suitcase while taking out my other outfit, the real one.

I started with the boots. They came up to my knees and ended in a hard point, like a horse’s hoof. I slipped them on, tightened the laces, and secured each one with a small padlock. When I stood up I swayed a little; it had taken me a while to get used to walking on tiptoe all the time, but now they felt like a natural part of my body.

I took out the next piece: a horse tail attached to a plug. I applied a little lubricant and slid it in slowly, feeling my body open to take it. I couldn’t help moaning when it went all the way in. I gave it a little tug to make sure it was firm. Learning to hold it in had been one of the hardest lessons: at first it kept slipping out, and then came the cane punishment that left burning marks and made me scream. Now, no matter how hard they pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

I put on the special bit, which fastened at the nape of my neck and kept a hard piece between my teeth, along with a pair of blinkers that forced me to look straight ahead. Then came the leather strap harness that wrapped around my breasts.

Finally I took what had cost me the most to master: a thick black horse-shaped dildo. I had started with small pieces and worked my way up in size until I got to this enormous one. Damián had promised me that if I could adapt to it firmly for a few months, we’d talk about more ambitious things. The mere idea of how far my training could go left me soaking wet.

I spread my legs and began to ease in the wide head, moaning against the gag. My lips wrapped around it and I pushed it in little by little, feeling it stretch me centimeter by centimeter. It was an immense pleasure, almost unbearable.

When the base was pressed against my cunt, a slight bulge showed in my belly. I clamped my legs together, crossed my arms behind my back gripping my elbows, and stood there, waiting, holding everything in.

Suddenly I felt his hands circle me from behind and knead my breasts. I laughed inwardly when I felt him pinch my nipples, playing with me. Then he wrapped my arms in strips of leather until they were immobilized against my back and turned me around so I’d look at him.

He was still dressed, but my eyes went straight to his hand: he was holding a thin black whip. He told me I was going to be punished and, with a gesture, pointed to the floor beneath my feet.

There were drops of my own fluids there, which had escaped without my noticing while he was penetrating me with the dildo.

I accepted the punishment without protest. I stood firm and still while he stepped away and let the uncoiled whip drop, ready to hiss through the air.

The first hiss ended in a sharp crack across my chest. The pain was intense, but I answered with a whinny, like a good mare grateful for her correction. Learning to make that sound perfectly had taken me weeks when I could barely sit down.

Another hiss, another mark, another whinny. I stayed upright after each blow even as I trembled inside. One after another, until twenty-five lashes left my skin crossed with burning lines and my legs shaking.

***

When he was done, he put a collar with a small bell around my neck and tugged the leash to lead me outside. I walked with a steady gait, swaying my hips so my tail would swing as if it were real.

In the yard there was a training treadmill used to train horses to trot. Damián, besides his other businesses, had been involved in horse training for a while, and one of his stablehands was right there working with a gorgeous black stallion. I liked joking with my friends that I already had a handsome, muscular boyfriend; they never imagined I meant that magnificent four-legged specimen.

At first I was embarrassed for the workers to see me like this. Now, on the other hand, I puffed out my chest proudly so they’d look at me, proud to be a beautiful, obedient pony.

They had been shocked too at first, but with Damián’s clear instructions they had ended up treating me like just another mare in the stable.

The stablehand stopped the stallion, whose name was Tizón, when he saw me arrive, and Damián handed over my leash. He tied it to the treadmill with complete naturalness. From there on, Tizón set the pace, and I had to keep up with his trot: if I fell behind, I’d crash onto the gravel and get dragged. I knew that from experience; once he left my chest and belly full of scrapes.

The stablehand told me to spread my legs so he could remove the dildo. Before taking it out, he gave it a couple of slow pumps that made me sway with pleasure for a moment. He set it on a wooden table and gave my ass a smack, to which I answered with a whinny. My whinnies meant only one thing: thank you.

Then he gave Tizón the order. The stallion pulled the treadmill and forced me to start trotting. I had to keep a good pace and good form, lifting my knees and swaying my hips. Every time I passed the stablehand, I got a cane strike on my ass as a reminder not to slack off.

I managed to hear Damián giving him instructions: a certain number of laps and, afterward, taking me to the stable.

The stable meant food, water, the shift worker’s rest with me, and, most importantly, being Tizón’s favorite mare while Damián went off to take care of his business.

I loved that every time I came back, the employees fought over who would be my caretaker. Some were rough, others treated me gently, but for all of them I was no more than an animal just like Tizón. And that was exactly the game that drove me crazy.

I kept trotting, guided and attentive. I confess that even when I’m far from the farm I go out running so I don’t lose shape, imagining I’m still following that stallion across a field and dreaming that someday he’ll claim me completely as his.

***

When I finished the laps, the stablehand led me to the stable and washed me with a sponge and soap to get rid of the sweat. I was panting, exhausted, but I loved being bathed. As soon as he was done, I leaned forward and swished my tail, whinnying, tempting him to take me.

He came closer, removed the bit, and put an apple between my teeth, which I bit only slightly. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of his fly opening.

I barely had time to prepare when he buried himself in me with a hard thrust. He grabbed my tail and lifted it to keep my ass raised. I moaned against the apple, feeling every thrust while he quickened the pace and slapped me, drawing muffled whinnies from me. He fucked me hard, without treating me like a woman, but like the beast I wanted to be at that moment, until I felt his hot release flood me from within and spill over. He told me I was a good girl.

He took the apple from my mouth so I could bite it between pants, passed the bitten side between my legs, bathing it in his semen and my fluids, and offered it to me again. I bit into it without hesitation, savoring that mixture.

When he finished feeding me, he guided me into an empty stall and tied my collar to a ring in the wall. He gave me one last smack and closed the door. Exhausted, I let myself fall onto the straw for a nap.

This life made me immensely happy, and I tried to squeeze every one of its days dry. But this time I had brought a new plan to propose to Damián, one that, if it worked, would change my life forever.