Ho! Ho! Ho!

Let me give you an image; a man stands up in the back room of a gay bar, looks at his knees and tells the man standing next to him, “Those are going to be sore in the morning!”

And now for the clean explanation.

Up until last night, I had only been to two gay bars in my life. It was many years ago and as I recall, the cigarette smoke was so thick you needed navigational instruments and fog horns to find you way around. So the visits were brief. And unproductive.

Last night was something different.

First of all, the reason for going had nothing to do with cruising or any of the other classic reasons for going to a gay bar. The Boston Ramrod was holding a holiday party and Mr. Boston Leather was going to be putting in an appearance as Santa Claus. He got in touch with Mistress a while back and asked if she had some ponies who might be interested in being reindeer for the evening. The occasion was a fund raiser to benefit AIDS education and outreach for leathermen. Photo ops with Santa and his “reindeer” were being offered for five dollars and raffles were being held for several very intriguing grab bags that sat under a Christmas tree.

I arrived at Mistress’ house in the early afternoon. On these “day trips”, I like to do all I can to maximize face time so I try to land as early as possible and within the bounds of good taste. The party wasn’t set to begin until ten that evening and the other ponies weren’t expected for a few hours, so we had a chance to sit and visit. Quiet moments like that are precious, especially in what usually promises to be a hectic time of year.

Stormy was the next to arrive, stepping through the door about five hours after I did. I cherish any chance I get to see Stormy, and my decision to come to this event had as much to do with that as it did anything else. We talked for a short while of life since the CTK Jamboree in November (more on the Jamboree in another story) and generally readied ourselves for the arrival of Northern Belle. Northern Belle, is a voluptuous, vivacious and...gregarious...pony girl switch who is as outgoing as a person can be without incurring damage. She's great fun to be with, but taking a little time to ready yourself for the experience is usually a good idea.

Once we were all gathered, we had a terrific meal and got our tack and equipment ready. Mistress packed a bag of reins, jingle bells, and other essentials while Stormy, Northern Belle and I put on as much of our tack as we could prior to heading out. Ms. Belle also brought along some reindeer antlers that she picked up at a Petco store on her way over. I mean, if you are going to masquerade as a reindeer, you need to look the part, don't you? We adapted the antlers to fit our heads (they were made for dogs, after all) by cutting off the chin straps and removing the tags. They fit well enough for the purpose, so we tossed them into our tack bags and piled into the van for the trip into Boston.

Ah, Boston. I'm so glad Mistress was driving.

We arrived at the Ramrod about one hour before the party was due to start and went to work getting tacked up and ready. We were met there by Andrea, our stable hand, a new stable hand in training, and another pony/trainer couple who had come on their own.

Okay...let's deal with the question that has been going around in your head. Women in a gay bar?

Well, yes. It was Ladies Night out in front. In fact, it may not be entirely accurate to call the Ramrod a gay bar although a great deal of its advertising certainly makes it look that way. It's structured like a classic gay bar with a front room where most of the socializing happens, and a back room where...well...the rest of the socializing happens. But like a lot of other establishments of the sort, survival calls for a more inclusive approach. Gay, straight, lesbian, transgendered and questioning folk are all a part of the community, and it seems that they are welcome at the Ramrod.

Kinky folk come in all shapes and persuasions as well, and what better place to be kinky than at a leather bar? So it was a good fit.

So there we were in the back room of the Ramrod getting ready. Stormy and I began the process of laying out our tack so that Mistress and the stable girls could put it on us. I laid each piece out in order so that it could be easily applied without confusion. And then I made a terrible discovery.

I had forgotten my plume! I HAD FORGOTTEN MY PLUME!

I could see it lying on a table at home in its protective cardboard tube, wondering what it had done to be left behind. On returning from the CTK Jamboree I had carried my plume and tail in my luggage rather than shipping them, so they were separated from the rest of my stuff. The tail made it into the tack bag but the plume had not. In a weak moment I had made the decision to not consult the check list I normally use while packing. I figured I had been over that list so many times that all I had to do was visualize my tack from head to toe and make sure each piece was in the bag.

Wrong.

I wasted no time at all fessing up to Mistress. Better to get the bad news off my chest and suffer the consequences than to let Her find out by Herself. I suppose everyone forgets something like this at some point (Stormy told me he did once) but when your stable's motto is, "Honor the plume," forgetting yours can leave you feeling rather low. Mistress was understanding. There would be no punishment outside of having to go the entire evening without my plume, which was bad enough. At one point, though, She did muse to Stormy that he should not be allowed to wear his plume since I had forgotten mine. The look of horror on my face at that idea amused her, I think. Worse than having to go without my beloved crest would be having to watch Stormy without his and knowing that his deprivation was my fault. In the end, though, Stormy got to wear his plume.

Of course, we all had antlers, but Stormy had antlers and a plume. In the end, I was duly punished by that fact alone. I shan't forget it again.

Watch me forget my dance belt the next time.

We spent some time getting our bearings in the dark of the back room and then started having some fun. Northern Belle went straight for the front room and schmoozed with anyone who would talk to her - a considerable number of people, it seems. Gender made no difference. Belle was stunning in her red Lycra body suit and black leather tack. The very nice gay crowd gathered around her to see what a pony girl had to say. When she told them that there were pony boys in the back, they made a beeline in to see us.

Personally, I was thrilled! This is the sort of thing I have worked so hard on my body for and the chance to show it off a little was welcomed. Belle, Stormy and I all went in for some serious prancing and tail wagging (read "butt wiggling"). Mistress spent some time doing short reins work with Stormy and I, probably more as a showpiece for bar patrons than a serious attempt to train us. Seeing two men clad in leather straps and thongs getting led about by a stunner in a top hat holding a set of leather reins had to be a hot scene. So did watching as She put the two of us through our dressage paces using her crop to discipline and correct us when we made the inevitable mistakes. I experienced a new-found erotic sensation just having a bit in my mouth in this setting.

About an hour of this worked up a light, shiny sweat on us and readied us for the main event. Mr Boston Leather came in wearing his red shirt and Santa boots. He was a friendly gentleman with a great handshake and a wonderful smile. He laid out his plans for the event and we made ready to serve as his entourage. But before the picture sessions, he wanted a shot of him arriving on a reindeer. Mistress quickly commanded me down on all fours for the purpose.

I don't typically do four-legged pony work, mostly because my (almost) fifty year-old knees don't much like the idea and my back doesn't much care for it either. Still, I was more than willing to take on the role for a good picture. Down I went and stayed for several minutes while the shot was taken several times. In fact, Mr. Boston Leather never put his full weight on my back. That was probably a good thing as you would know if you have followed this blog. But even with only a little pressure on my back, I felt that wonderful sense of submission not only to my Mistress but to Mr. Boston Leather as well. I liked that. In fact, I was swept into pony head space pretty quickly and didn't really surface for the rest of the evening. Fine with me!

Once the pictures of Santa arriving were done, we all took our places around his seat for the charity photo shoot. This was to last about thirty minutes. Stormy and I were positioned to either side of the chair on our knees but upright. That presented a challenge because the floor was hard and the bells on my boots would not allow me to rest back on my lower legs, meaning I would have to put all the weight of my upper body on my knees. Ouch! I bore it for about fifteen minutes until I finally had to go down on all fours for a while. I noticed that Stormy did the same thing at about the same time, and Northern Belle had been on all fours all along.

Mistress went around to bar patrons asking if they wanted to have their picture taken with Santa. Some did, but many declined. It wasn't that they didn't want to help the charity, though. I mean think about it. Having your picture taken in a gay bar can be a fast track to unemployment, divorce or a lot of other problems. I'm sure more than a few bar patrons found the presence of cameras in the back room a little disconcerting, special event or not.

When it seemed as though everyone who intended to get their picture taken had done so, Mistress took her turn. She sat proudly on Santa's lap with our head stable hand Andrea on the other side and Her ponies all around. It was Aphrodite's Meadow stable and Santa, and if I may say so myself, the picture looks very nice. For Mistress, Stormy and I endured the agony of kneeling upright one more time. I don't know if getting there or being there hurt more, but I put a smile on my face and bore it. A few pictures for the ponies - on all fours once again - and the session was over.

That's when I stood up, looked at my knees and told Stormy, "Those are going to be sore in the morning!" See? I told you there was a clean explanation for the remark!

That took care of the main event, but the evening was far from over. Stormy and I had earned some attention and we were soon to get it. We spent a little time prancing about some more and showing ourselves off to an appreciative crowd. I danced with Northern Belle on and off, and then stood quietly by while Andrea massaged my legs, shoulders and back. She was playing idly with my ponytail when she leaned into my ear and told me, "You're being cruised!" That meant that at least one gay bar patron was checking me out. That made me giddy and I decided to give whomever it was a show. More wiggling and tail wagging ensued.

Then I noticed that Northern Belle was enjoying some "scenic" attention at the edge of the stage. I decided I could use some of that and moved right in next to her. Andrea seemed to understand what I was looking for and moved in behind me. I leaned over onto the stage and presented my back to her.

Andrea is evil. Delightfully evil. She has a talent for sensation play that is close to felonious and administered what sometimes felt like pure heat followed by freezing cold and interspersed with heavy massage. In very little time I was sailing deep into sub space. The sensations on my back were coupled with the vibrations of the stage beneath my torso as the music pounded out a steady rave-style rhythm. At some point, I noticed that Northern Belle had moved away and Stormy was now next to me. Mistress and Andrea were working both of us, trading back and forth as the mood moved them. On occasion, I was pulled up by my collar for one reason or another. At one point, Andrea asked if I wanted more.

Oh yes, please!

On another occasion, Mistress wanted to introduce me to a very handsome man. I desperately wanted to say hello and shake his hand, but I couldn't make myself do either. "He's a little spacey," Mistress told the man, "we've been working him over pretty well for a while." I did manage a polite nod and a smile, but I'm sure I looked pretty foolish for the high I had achieved on endorphins.

Before resuming my position for more treatment, I whispered in Mistress' ear and asked if we had drawn an audience. "Oh yes," She cooed, "There's quite a crowd watching this!"

Nirvana! I told Her that if any of the bar patrons wished to have a go at me, I had no objection. The invitation was gladly accepted by I don't know how many people. Some gave me a very nice pat on the backside, others just, shall we say, smoothed it over for a moment or two. It was all under the supervision of my Mistress and it was all good.

But all good things must end. Eventually, I had to rise out of sub space and begin the process of becoming a human being once again. The party was over and closing time would soon be upon us. Andrea and the other pony couple said their goodbyes and headed out. Mistress went to retrieve the car. Stormy and I retrieved our tack bags and changed with the help of our new stable hand. Northern Belle was ready before all of us. We collected ourselves and headed out to the sidewalk. There were many words of thanks and plenty of praise for the ponies. In short, we were a hit.

Out on the sidewalk waiting for Mistress to bring the van around, Stormy said how amazing it was the way the time had flown. We had arrived at 9:30 and it was now 2:00 in the morning. It had felt like only an hour to us. Such is the way of time in an altered state of consciousness. I can't wait to go back some day!

And I told you there was a clean explanation, didn't I?