Another Rite of Passage

Here we go again...

So last week it was my first pony play event. This week, it was my first
dungeon party. The experience was no less intense.

I arrived at Mistress' house at around midday Saturday and found her
busily working on a saddle. She wants me to be a saddle pony at least in
part, and is the sort of person who can not only find an English youth
saddle in a bargain bin for $35, but who has the moxie to adapt it for
human use. We spent the afternoon ripping out stitches and putting holes
in our hands, trying and retrying various ideas to figure out a good
configuration. I think the project is well underway at this point, but
it's a work in progress. Kind of like me.

Two other ponies were supposed to come and join us, but both had to
cancel; one due to a family matter and the other due to a car accident.
Not her fault and she didn't get hurt, but no car or ride. That was a
bummer because I was looking forward to seeing them. On the other hand,
there was no competition for attention!

We left for the party in plenty of time to do errands and still get
there on time. On the way, Mistress asked me a number of questions about
my health and such. Clearly, she had big plans. We had already talked
about what was to happen and how it would play out, so I was nervous,
but not because of the scene she was planning.

New places, new experiences and new people are always a challenge for
me. So when we arrived at the dungeon spot on time and were admitted, I
was pretty quiet. I find keeping quiet and listening is a good way to
avoid social missteps - especially where such problems can get you
tossed out on your ear. After I had read and signed the rules for the
evening, Mistress introduced me to the host, a friendly and affable man
who made me feel at home. I was also introduced to a few people on the
Pony Up list who know me by name but had not met me face to face yet. I
then got to look the place over.

After some announcements and general discussion, I finally heard the
words that I was waiting for, "Let's get you into your tack." I'll
follow her anywhere when she says that. As it was an indoor, private
party, there was no need to be street legal, so everything came off
before the tack went on. I have all the body modesty of a goldfish, so
it seems I'm a pretty good instrument for getting things rolling (can't
you just hear Eric Idle saying, "Guaranteed to break the ice at
parties!"). Bit, reins, collar and a few bells, and I was off.

There weren't many people there, but those who had gathered were sitting
at one end of the room talking. The floor was pretty well open and
nobody was scening at the moment, so it was dressage training for me.
Mistress put me through my paces and gave me a good whack when I screwed
up, which was frequently at the start (I swear, I wasn't doing it on
purpose). The people all stopped talking and decided to watch the show.
Yours truly gave it all I had - or at least as much as I could given a
room full of very...interesting...furniture. We went on for almost an
hour doing dressage and reins while the crowd gathered. I was delighted to see that JoJo and Buttercup (another trainer and her pony) had arrived as well. I had met them the week before and it's always nice to see familiar faces.

Finally, I got what I had done all that hard work for - a grooming session.

Oooo! Mmmm! Ahhhh! OUCH! Owowowowow! Ooo, that's better. Must you use that thing? Mmmm - a soft towel at last. At least, that's what went through my head. Still, it was all good and brought the blood closer to the surface, readying me for what was to come next.

The tack was removed and Mistress maneuvered me into position against a
wall of chains. She told me to reach out and grab the chains and relax.
Then she opened her tool box. Now I know some of the things that live in
that box - the twitch among them, so I tend to watch pretty closely when
I am naked and she opens that thing. First she pulled out the dressage
whip. Now, I knew she wasn't going to use that on me with any force, but
still, I had to ponder what she had in mind. Some gentle work with that
whip and we were on to bigger and better things. Then  out came a
horsehair fly whisk. I got plenty of attention with that. Finally, the
big flogger came out. She started in gently and over the course of I
don't know how long, slowly increased the intensity. At first, I heard
myself wondering what would happen, and when I would slip into sub space
(I had been in pony space. Coming out of one and getting into another
was all new to me) when Mistress stopped, gently rubbed my back with her
gloved hand, pulled my head back gently and asked how I was doing.

Sometimes I can be a smartass. This time, I chose not to be. Instead of
asking her what was holding her back (a smartass answer), I asked her to
begin pushing the envelope. Then the flogging began in earnest. I don't
know how long it continued, but all of a sudden things changed. In less
than one minute, I began to feel all the pleasant effects of being
drunk. My body started shaking and my knees began to feel a little weak.
At about the same moment, the flogging stopped. Another pass with the
gloved hand, another check in, and Mistress decided that I should come
down a bit but that a little impact would be a good finisher. By this
time, I had long since stopped watching the tool box and thinking about
what was coming out of it. In fact, I had pretty much stopped thinking.
But after a minute of checking in and stroking my back, there was a
brief silence followed by the first strike.

The blows came from a flogger that resembles a bouquet of roses - all
made of leather and tightly formed. Believe me, when that hits, you know
it. I took four gentle impacts and (I think) three heavier ones. By this
point, I was off somewhere else. Still the impact was bringing me back,
and when Mistress again checked in, I decided I had had enough for this
session.

I went further than I thought I'd go, and further than Mistress thought
I'd go as well. But she wasn't surprised that I did it.

After some excellent aftercare and a chance to come back to myself, the
tack went back on. Two trainers, each with a pony and in a relatively small space, inevitably meant that sooner or later the two ponies would end up face to face. And so we did.

Now I had met Buttercup once before, so we weren't strangers. But perhaps we were a little self conscious. We nodded a greeting to each other in the polite fashion you would any acquaintance. That, however, was not the way it should have been done.

And here occurred an illustration in the differences of style. Buttercup's trainer, JoJo looked at him and reminded him that ponies always whinny a greeting to one another. My Mistress cracked me across the backside with the reins, smiled and asked, "Where's my whinny?" She kept that up until I let loose with a bellow that satisfied her.

I adore my Mistress. Have I said that?

After a little more reins work, Mistress turned to me, hung the reins around my neck, patted me softly on the chest and said, "Be a good boy.' I knew what that meant. Ponies are high maintenance party guests, let's face it. I don't expect my Mistress to spend the entire night scening with me or seeing to my own needs. She has some of her own. So I spent some time milling about and learning how to con other party guests out of treats while Mistress scened with someone else. I do hope she enjoyed herself. When that was through, she had her sub from that scene take my reins and walk me about a little. Perhaps it was nerves or something, but she seemed a little uncertain of herself and gave a few conflicting signals. All the same, I did exactly what I was told, stopping if I got confused. We went on like that for a short time before Mistress took the reins back. That's when she led me into the quiet room...

There was more lunge work in my future. Mind you, it's tricky in a 12 by 12 foot room full of furniture, but where there's a will, there's a way. And Mistress has the will. I just want to make her proud, so I'll do as I'm told. She put me through my paces for a while and then led me to an odd sort of bench that was half kneeler and half massage table. It looked strange to me, but it took no real persuasion to get me to kneel and then lay my upper body down. Mistress then opened my girth belt and climbed on top of my back as though she was riding me on all fours. She took her signal whip out and slowly stroked me with it on my legs, back and butt. Occasionally she would crack the whip, which was a little startling but certainly did me no harm. With me in this position of absolute submission to my Mistress, I went deep into sub space again. I don't know how long I stayed there, but after a while, I sensed that she had climbed off of me and was awaiting my return. It took some time and I had some doubt about wanting to come back, but all good things must come to an end and, after all, the party had ended. Time to go home.