Female Led Relationships
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Transformed Into A Permanent Chastity Pony Boy Part 3
🕑 Added 2024-09-16 21:16:31 +0000 UTC
Alex stood in his stall, shifting his weight as he clip-clopped around, still adjusting to the sensation of hooves. But the discomfort of his new form was nothing compared to the gnawing ache between his legs. His blue balls throbbed painfully, a reminder of the weeks without release, and his cock strained desperately against the unforgiving chastity belt.
The frustration was overwhelming—his body ached for relief, his cock pulsing, swollen, trapped, and helpless.
His arms, bound tight in the armbinder, were numb by now, barely a thought compared to the heat and tension building below. Every movement sent jolts of need through him, his mind clouded by a raw, unfulfilled hunger. His ass was a mess—bruises, welts, sores marked every inch of flesh. But despite the pain, there was pride. The pain was proof of how far he’d come, of the relentless training he was enduring. Each bruise felt like a badge of honour, evidence of his submission, his progress.
Even the condescending praise he received when he did something right stoked the fire inside him. It didn’t matter that it was laced with belittlement—it was still praise, still a reminder that he was doing well, that he was being noticed. He had no life before this. His thoughts were always kinky, his fantasies dark and deep, but now he was living it.
What he once thought would stay buried in his imagination was now his reality. And despite the intensity, the discomfort, and the desperation clawing at him, he began to crave more submission and control from the mistresses.
"How could I ever go back to my old life?" Alex thought as he relieved himself in the corner of the stall. There was no embarrassment from this anymore, just a quiet contemplation of how thoroughly he had been trained and what was now expected of him.
Alex heard his stall being unlocked, so he quickly clopped over to the centre of the stall and stood at full attention as Ms Yuki entered his stall, the young Japanese trainer known for her shibari skills.
His cock immediately tried to get hard in the cage as he was forced to look at her sweaty breasts bursting out of his chest.
Alex had quickly learnt that Yuki was one of the more intense trainers at Ms Steele’s academy for pony boys. She approached Alex and began to go through the same morning ritual Alex was put through every morning.
Yuki circled him slowly, her eyes tracing every inch of his restrained form as she meticulously inspected his bondage, ensuring everything was perfectly secured. His arms were locked tightly behind him in a rigid armbinder, the thick leather straps cinched so snugly that he could barely flex his fingers. His legs were sheathed in glistening rubber, forcing his thighs to press together, while his feet were locked into unforgiving hooves, the buckles fastened tightly to prevent any movement.
His mouth was stuffed with an inflated rubber penis gag, filling his cheeks and muffling any sound he tried to make, as his neck was trapped in a thick collar, locking his head in place. Yuki’s fingers delicately traced the intricate locks securing everything together, testing each one with a soft tug, a teasing smile playing on her lips. If there was even the slightest give to anything Yuki would tighten it to its absolute maximum before locking it in place.
She crouched in front of him, her fingers lightly grazing the steel chastity device encasing his cock and balls. The cold metal gleamed under the dim light, every inch of him imprisoned by the unforgiving cage. Yuki fondled his trapped balls with a slow, deliberate touch, sending waves of agonizing pleasure through his body. The steel held him firm, offering no escape as his cock strained helplessly against the chastity.
She ensured the heavy horse’s hood was locked onto the collar, the padlocks clicking into place as she made sure he could only see through small vertical slits. He felt utterly powerless, his vision limited, his senses overwhelmed by the confinement. Yuki continued to tease him, her fingers brushing over the taut skin of his balls, knowing exactly how to make his body burn with desire, trapped and unable to act on his desperate, throbbing need.
She then attached the reins to his bit and led Alex out of the stall with a severe lash of her whip to his ass causing him to groan into the gag.
“Today, you start your dressage training,” Yuki purred, her voice low and sultry. “You’ll perform your routine perfectly, ponyboy. If you don’t…” She let her threat linger, lazily flicking the crop against his thigh, a teasing reminder of what awaited any failure.
Alex swallowed hard, his throat dry with anticipation. He knew the stakes: each misstep would be met with immediate, sharp punishment. “Begin,” Yuki commanded, stepping back to give him space while her eyes remained fixed on him.
As soft, rhythmic music began to fill the room, Alex started to move. His body flowed into the routine he had mentally practised countless times—his steps deliberate, every motion intended to capture the elegance of a well-trained pony. His knees lifted high, his torso straight, chains linking his wrists and ankles adding to the challenge of each movement.
But as he transitioned into the next part of the routine, his foot slipped slightly—barely noticeable, but enough to draw Yuki’s attention. Before he could adjust, the crop snapped through the air, landing with a sharp crack against his ass.
Alex gasped, the sting sending a jolt of sharp pleasure through him. Instinct screamed for him to stop, to recoil, but he knew better. Stopping would only invite more punishment.
“Keep moving,” Yuki hissed, her voice icy and commanding. “Not a single second of hesitation.”
Alex obeyed, his heart pounding as he fought to maintain the rhythm. The lingering pain threatened to derail him, but he pressed on, transitioning into the next movement—a graceful lift of his leg and a high step. His body tensed at the wrong moment, his leg failing to rise as expected.
Crack.
The crop landed again, this time on his thigh, leaving a red welt. Alex bit his lip, tears of frustration welling in his eyes, but he pushed through the pain, forcing himself to stay in sync with the routine.
Each mistake, no matter how small, was met with swift correction. A misstep earned a lash across his shoulders, a wobble in his spin a sharp strike to his side. The sting of the whip was almost secondary to the burning humiliation of his failures. Sweat drenched his body, muscles aching as he desperately tried to keep up. The more errors he made, the deeper his shame cut.
“Pathetic,” Yuki sneered as she delivered another sharp blow, this time across his lower back. “Is this the best you can do, my pathetic little ponyboy?”
Alex whimpered, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. The pain was intense, but it was the crushing humiliation that hurt most. He had wanted to impress her, to earn her praise, but each misstep and each crack of the whip underscored his inadequacy. “Again,” Yuki commanded, circling him with an air of relentless authority. “We won’t stop until you get it right.”
The music started again, and Alex moved, his body protesting with every step. The chains on his wrists clinked softly as he raised his armbinder, each movement a battle against exhaustion and obedience. The chastity cage pressed painfully against him, the growing pressure mixing his arousal with his suffering.
As he neared the final sequence, exhaustion overcame him. His foot slipped once more—just a fraction, but it was enough. Yuki's crop lashed across his chest, the sting so intense it brought him to his knees. He collapsed onto the floor, his body trembling, breath heavy and ragged.
Yuki stood over him, her gaze cold and assessing. “Pathetic,” she repeated, crouching to meet his gaze through his hood. She gripped his chin firmly, forcing him to look up at her. Fail me again, and I will speak to Ms. Steele about castrating you.”
Alex’s cheeks burned with shame, tears of frustration filling his eyes. He nodded weakly, unable to speak.
Yuki rose, the riding crop still in her hand. “Get up,” she commanded. “We’ll keep practising until you’re perfect. And you will be perfect, won’t you?”
Alex neighed through the gag, his voice hoarse, the weight of his humiliation settling deep.
“Good,” she said, her tone softening into a wicked smile. “Now, begin again.”
Alex finally performed the full routine to Yuki’s satisfaction before she turned off the music.
Now, was that so hard pony she teased as she fondled his balls as several streams of precum leaked out of the cage.
We are not done yet, pony she smirked as she attached blinders to the slits on the hood ensuring he couldn’t see anything, and then attached the reins to his bit and led him towards a part of the barn he had never entered before.
The barn was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of lanterns hanging from the wooden beams. The air was thick with the rich, earthy scent of hay and leather, mingling with a faint hint of excitement and anticipation. The walls were adorned with various pony play paraphernalia, each piece meticulously arranged to contribute to the scene unfolding in the centre of the space.
Alex, the ponyboy, stood in the middle of the barn. His wrists and ankles were securely shackled, the chains rattling softly with every shift of his weight. His breathing was heavy, each exhale creating a visible puff of air in the cool, dim light. He could hear other trainers in the room murmuring in anticipation of something as Alex smelt hot coals close by.
Yuki, stood with a commanding presence, her tight black leather outfit contrasting sharply with the rustic surroundings. Her posture was both elegant and intimidating as she held a branding iron, its design intricate and personal—a symbol of her control.
Yuki approached Alex, her heels clicking sharply against the wooden floor, each step echoing with authority.
You will be branded, forever marked as a pony slave. Your body will no longer be your own.”
Alex shivered, his heart racing in his chest. He had fantasies of branding, but he had never imagined it would ever happen. He could smell the small brazier in the corner of the room, where a red-hot iron rested, glowing ominously in the dim light.
Mistress Yuki approached him slowly, her movements graceful, almost predatory. She knelt beside him, and with practised hands, she began to tie the ropes around his body. The silk cords slid over his skin, firm yet delicate, as she expertly looped them around his chest, arms, and legs. With each twist and knot, Alex felt his body becoming more and more immobile, the ropes tightening until he could barely move a muscle.
Mistress Yuki worked in silence, her fingers moving with the precision of an artist as she tied him into a complex, intricate web of restraints. The rope wound around his chest, binding his arms tightly behind his back, then down to his legs, forcing him into a bending position. His thighs were spread wide, his ankles bound to the floor, leaving his back arched and his ass completely exposed.
Alex’s breath quickened as the ropes tightened, his body completely immobilized. He couldn’t move, couldn’t shift even an inch. The feeling of helplessness washed over him, a mixture of fear and anticipation churning in his stomach.
Mistress Yuki stood back, admiring her work for a moment before stepping toward the brazier. She picked up the branding iron, the metal glowing hot and dangerous in the low light. The worsd "Pony Slave 433" was visible, seared into the iron, waiting to be burned into his flesh.
Alex’s heart pounded in his chest as she approached, the heat of the iron palpable even from a distance. Mistress Yuki crouched beside him, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of his exposed cheek.
“This is your new identity,” she whispered, her voice calm, almost soothing. “You will no longer be a man. You are nothing more than a pony slave. Number 433, marked for life. And as a reminder of your purpose, you will carry this brand on your flesh.”
Without another word, she pressed the red-hot iron firmly against Alex’s left ass cheek. The searing pain was instant and excruciating, a burning agony that tore through his body. Alex cried out, his scream muffled by the gag that had been forced into his mouth earlier. His muscles tensed, but the ropes held him in place, leaving him no choice but to endure the pain.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air as Mistress Yuki held the brand in place for a few agonizing seconds before finally pulling it away. Alex’s chest heaved with laboured breaths, his vision swimming with tears. The words "Pony Slave 433" were now permanently etched into his left cheek, the raw, red brand throbbing with pain. But Mistress Yuki wasn’t finished.
She returned to the brazier, placing the first brand back into the flames and picking up another. This one was smaller but equally menacing. The words “Non-Breeding” glowed bright on the iron.
“You are not only a pony slave,” Mistress Yuki said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you are a useless one. You will not breed. You are nothing more than a toy, a pet, meant to serve and entertain.”
His humiliation deepened as Mistress Yuki pressed the second brand against his right cheek, the burning sensation even more unbearable than the first. His body writhed in the restraints, but there was no escape, no relief from the searing pain.
The room echoed with his muffled screams as the brand was held in place, the words “Non-Breeding” becoming a permanent mark of his submission and degradation.
When Mistress Yuki finally removed the iron, she stood back, admiring her work. Alex’s body slumped in the restraints, his skin slick with sweat, tears streaming down his face. His ass now bore the brands that would define him forever—Pony Slave 433 on one cheek and Non-Breeding on the other.
The audience, which had gathered to witness the branding, erupted in applause and laughter, their jeers and mocking words cutting through the haze of pain. They pointed and laughed at his branded flesh, his humiliation complete.
Mistress Yuki crouched beside him once more, her fingers tracing the fresh brands with a cruel smile. “You belong to Ms. Steele now,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “And you will carry these marks for the rest of your life. There is no escape from your submission, no escape from your purpose. You are nothing but a branded pony slave, forever.”
Alex’s body trembled, his mind overwhelmed by the agony and the shame. He was completely broken, his identity stripped away and replaced with the brands that now marked him as property. He was no longer Alex. He was Pony Slave 433 and he would never be anything more.
The stall was dark and cool, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. Alex, now known only as Pony Slave 433, knelt on the cold floor, his body bound in familiar restraints, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavy on him. His branded flesh throbbed—both cheeks permanently marked with "Pony Slave 433" and "Non-Breeding", a constant reminder of his place, his purpose. The silence in the barn was thick, broken only by the occasional shuffle of other pony slaves in their stalls and the soft creak of leather straps as he adjusted slightly, trying to find some comfort in his confinement.
He didn’t expect any visitors tonight. His training had been brutal, the humiliation public and complete. But when the door to his stall creaked open, Alex’s heart skipped a beat, fear and anticipation flooding his senses.
Elise stepped inside, her figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the dim light filtering through the barn. She was dressed in tight black leather, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed with a mischievous, almost predatory intent as she approached, her boots clicking softly against the floor.
She clipped reins onto his bit and led him out of the barn for a walk around outside, her whip in her hand.
Alex kept his head bowed, his body still, knowing better than to make any sudden movements. His heart raced, his breath shallow as she stopped in front of him, her presence overwhelming in the confined space.
“Look at you,” Elise said, her voice a low purr, filled with mockery. “Branded and bound, just like the worthless little pony you are.”
Alex didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. His mouth was gagged, his wrists shackled behind his back.
She led him over to a patch of grass and tapped his balls three times with her whip and tapped his ass three times with the whip. Alex knew what to do and immediately began to relieve himself on the spot, letting his urine and waste flow from the chastity and his ass.
Elise laughed at how obedient he was and how degrading the situation was for Alex.
“You’re learning to be such a good submissive pony aren’t you?” she teased, her fingers trailing down his neck, over his chest, and lower still, until they came to rest between his legs. Her hand cupped his caged cock, her fingers brushing lightly against the tight metal of the chastity device, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I bet you’re aching in here, aren’t you? Desperate for release… but you’ll never get it. Not unless you earn it.”
Alex neighed softly, his body betraying him as her touch sent unwanted sparks of arousal through him, even with the unyielding pressure of the chastity cage. He tried to hold still, tried to suppress the shameful feelings rising within him, but Elise’s hand moved with deliberate cruelty, sliding beneath the metal cage to fondle his balls.
“Such a pathetic little pony,” she whispered, her voice dripping with condescension. “Your cock locked away, your balls aching, and yet you still think you’re worth something.” She gave his balls a gentle squeeze, just enough to make him squirm, the sensation of her touch both painful and humiliating.
“Do you know what you are now?” she continued, her voice soft and dangerous as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. “You’re nothing. You’re a toy, an object to be bought and sold. No one cares about your pain or your desires. All that matters is how well you perform.”
Her fingers continued to toy with him, her touch both degrading and teasing. Alex’s body trembled, every nerve alight with shame and frustration. He wanted to cry out, to beg for mercy, but the gag silenced him, leaving him helpless beneath her cruel attention.
Elise led him back towards the barn and into his stall before pausing. “You better hope you fetch a good price at auction, pony,” she hissed, her tone sharp and biting. “Because if you don’t… well, let’s just say there are worse fates for failures like you.”
She stood up abruptly, leaving him in the stall, his body trembling from the intensity of her touch and the weight of her words. Alex was left alone, bound, branded, and broken, the reality of his fate sinking deep into his bones.
And as the silence settled back over the barn, he last heard her parting words echoing in his mind: “You better fetch a good price at auction.”
A commotion in the stall next to him quickly interrupted Alex's thoughts. A massive six-foot-nine pony in latex and extreme bondage was led into the stall by three trainers. Despite the relentless whipping of his ass and balls, the ponyboy was so defiant and difficult to control.
The trainers spent several minutes securing him to the middle of his stall with dozens of chains before finally leaving. It was the first time Alex had ever seen the trainers covered in sweat and dirt.
Alex couldn’t believe someone this large was a pony, He looked like a professional strongman who had muscles bulging from every part of his body with a massive cock and balls dangling freely from his waist. His flaccid cock was easily ten inches long.
The last thing Alex saw branded on the ponies' massive muscular ass were the words breeding bull...
