Would Someone Tell the Everly Brothers to Shut Up?

This may be a little self-indulgent, but when I have a dream this lucid I need to act on it. I haven't had a bit in my mouth since the second weekend in January and something tells me that I have crossed some sort of psychological line. If I go too long without pony play in reality, it starts popping up in dreams.

So be it. Here's what happened while I slept...

I was staying at a ranch where I was to receive some training. The specifics weren't spelled out to me at the outset, but why should they be? Mistress decided I needed some sort of instruction that this place could provide. Nothing outlandish about that, but I was still very nervous. My pal Stormy was there, having arrived some time before I did. That was good in and of itself, but when I discovered he was also going to be responsible for getting me settled in, I felt a lot better.

There were plenty of others in this particular paddock, both men and women all there to be trained in some aspect or other to be better centaurs.

Centaurs?

Well, it seemed so matter-of-fact in the dream that it took a moment for me to notice. But yes, all of us had human torsos and equine bodies. I guess that would qualify us as centaurs. And it certainly meant that some things would be a little different than they were at, say, the average play party. This place meant business. It was a ranch specifically designed for training submissives and the program was rigorous. Missteps would be forgiven once and then punished thereafter. Rules would be explained once and followed or else. I can't say that anyone was fearful, but there was a sort of tension in the air that makes a bottom like me tingle.

Not long after I arrived, Stormy set about instructing me in the protocol of this strange place. Here is what I learned.

The place was run by a human; a man well versed in the care and training of centaurs and, for all I knew, other mythological creatures. I didn't meet him right away, but most only did on rare occasions. Those occasions could be happy or terrifying but were rarely anything in between. Most preferred to avoid him, but nobody thought of him as cruel. He was perhaps better seen as a very strict Dom.

Most of the discipline in the paddock was maintained by the dominant centaur. He was an imposing figure who had attained his rank not by assignment or even long experience (though he was reputed to be very wise), but by fighting his way to the top. He wasn't a violent sort, but you didn't want him angry at you. If you met him face to face, you were expected to nod or bow politely but say nothing unless asked a direct question. Eye contact was also discouraged as it was considered a provocation.

Stormy told me that my first task would be to find my place in the herd and he took a lot of time explaining how that worked. There was a ritual etiquette involved that seemed simple enough on the face of it, but proved a challenge in practice. Stormy told me to be myself and socialize as much as possible. From time to time, one of the other male centaurs would come face to face with me and place a hand on my chest as if to stop me in my tracks. I could meet that challenge in a number of ways, and the outcome would determine my place in relation to the challenger. I could bow my head and back out of the challenger's way, which would mean that I immediately recognized his dominance over me. I could place my hand on his chest in return, which would initiate what could only be described as a rituals staring contest. One of us would eventually cause the other to look away. The one that looked away then took a place below the other in the order. Finally, I could put my hand on the challenger's chest and one of us could initiate a fight. Few chose this option, and it usually only occurred when someone made an unwise choice. For example, trying to stare down a challenger who was clearly dominant.

All of this was silent, unspoken communication. Speech required permission and that didn't happen often.

I thought I understood the rule quite well. Stormy had told me what I needed to know and I headed into the paddock with confidence that I would get along well with the others. All I had to do was show respect not only to those I regarded as dominant to me, but to those who considered me dominant to them as well. Simple.

There were two things I hadn't thought about. The first was that none of those who had arrived prior to me considered me to be dominant to anybody. I tend to go along to get along, but it wasn't long before I figured out that that formula wouldn't work. I would have to win some of those staring contests, and that meant choosing my adversaries very carefully if I wanted to avoid fights. Another thing I hadn't considered was that although the female centaurs did not stop or challenge me (they had rituals of their own), they had their part to play. I befriended several of them easily not even thinking that the rules of human society took a back seat to the rules of the equine herd. The more dominant males were not at all happy to see me making friends with "their" females, and I found myself subjected to many more challenges than I had expected.

I don't know how long I was at this ranch, but I do know that I did well with my trainings and even made quite a few friends. I earned the somewhat qualified respect of the dominant centaur (how I'm not sure) and generally stayed out of trouble. But somewhere in the midst of all this, Stormy disappeared. I hadn't seen him since that first day and later found out that he had finished his training and gone back to Aphrodite's Meadow.

That suddenly made me homesick. I don't know if that caused problems with my performance or attitude, but it wasn't long before I was told I needed to see the owner of the ranch. That would be the one who either made you happy or scared the stuffing out of you. I knew only that I had no choice and would have to go see this man. Stormy wasn't there to tell me what to do (perhaps that was purposeful), so I had to figure out how best to approach this ordeal.

I thought about the things I had learned during my time at this ranch. I remembered all of the challengers I had faced. I recalled the few I had stepped aside for immediately, and few I had confronted successfully, and the many I had otherwise learned to coexist with peacefully. And somewhere in all of that thinking, I decided that the best way to meet the ranch owner was to stand erect, be proud and respectful. I made every effort to be clean and well groomed, then presented myself to the meeting place at the appointed hour.

I probably should have been terrified, but for some reason, I wasn't. I was confident and had a smile on my face. When I walk into the room, the first thing I saw was the dominant centaur. He looked at me with a face that was stern and smiling all at the same time. I avoided eye contact as I had been taught and bowed politely to him. Then I heard a voice tell me to step further into the room.

The ranch owner was sitting at a table with a computer in front of him. He was clearly looking at my record and evaluating my progress. Then he turned and looked at me. He asked me how I felt I had done in the time I had been there and gave me permission to speak.

I'm not exactly sure what I said, but I know I left the final judgment to him and that made him smile. He told me that I had earned some time away from the ranch and that if I chose, I could return to Aphrodite's Meadow for a while. That meant I could see Stormy, Mistress and any others who were there. That made me more than happy. I was dismissed and told I could leave, bearing in mind that my voice was not to be used once again.

I turned, nodded again to the dominant centaur who, to my surprise, smiled and nodded back. Then I walked out of the room. The ranch owner was behind me patting my shoulder.

At that moment, I awoke to find my cat pawing that same shoulder and squawking to be let in under the covers because the bedroom was cold.

Reality sometimes returns in less than subtle ways.

So that's the weird dream. As to what it all means, well, I'm not sure. What do you think?

Rusty Gets His New Tack!

In an earlier post, I talked about going to Water Hole Custom Leather and ordering a set of tack from Buck. When I ordered it, he said he wouldn't be able to start on it until after Thanksgiving because he had a lot of stuff to do before then. That was no problem for me as I wanted the new tack in time for the Winter Flea and that wasn't until January.

All the same, I was like a child on Christmas Eve waiting and fantasizing about my new tack. I haven't been able to post about it up to now because I had kept a few of the details a secret from Mistress. It was one last chance to control something before I gave her my reins for good and I was going to have fun with it.

I ordered the tack in mahogany with dark green edging. These are the colors of Aphrodite's Meadow - Mistress' stable. They happen to be favorites of mine as well. I once had an apartment that was done almost entirely in brown and green. I chose these because I wanted no doubt in anyone's mind whose pony I am. So there.

Because Buck would be hand dyeing the tack, other possibilities presented themselves that don't normally with black leather. Buck suggested graphics that could be tooled into the belt, gauntlets and hoof leggings and I got to work on that as soon as I got home. I had chosen my name, a five-pointed star, myrtle leaves and roses for the design. Roses and myrtle are sacred to Aphrodite, so that created another connection.

In early December I sent Buck a note reviewing the order and telling him to go ahead with it. Only a couple weeks later I found him on Yahoo Messenger and asked how he was doing. It turned out that the tack was just about finished and we scheduled a date between Christmas and New Year's to get together and make final adjustments.

I made arrangements with friends to stay the night at their place near Hartford. That is a story in itself but I won't go into it here. Suffice to say I was on my way to Tolland early the next day. With the exception of a wrong turn in Hartford (another story - and a Prozac moment to be sure), things went smoothly and I got to Water Hole on time.

Buck was pretty busy, but he's never too busy to spend time with a client. He picked up a big box behind the counter and ushered me into the back room. Once there, he laid the tack out on a table.

There it was. Everything I had hoped for and more. The mahogany was beautiful and rich, the dark green was exactly what I had envisioned, the tooling was incredible - even improving on the design I had sent, the brass hardware was incredible and the leather made the most wonderful sound. And that's to say nothing of that heady scent of new leather. Wow.

I wasted no time stripping down to my dance belt and Buck put the tack on me for the very first time, checking for fit and making adjustments where necessary. Little had to be done, and that was anticipated. I spent some time learning how to make the hooves work well and how to swish my tail.

I was so taken by it all that I immediately ordered a set of hobbles. To my pleasant surprise, he finished them in short order and got them to me via the Stormy express (Stormy delivered them at the Winter Flea in Providence - more on that in the next post).

So now I have tack and attitude! For anyone who is interested, I can't recommend Water Hole Custom Leather highly enough. The link can be found in my Ponyplay 101 post below.

Nuts and Bolts

Shopping in a hardware store with a ponyboy requires patience and a sense of humor. Shopping in a hardware store with two ponyboys requires patience, humor and some skill. If that hardware store is Lowe's or Home Depot, a lot of unpredictable things will present themselves. It can be hard on the nerves.

Fortunately for me and my stable pal Stormy, Ladresseuse has skill, patience and a sense of humor. Of course, she can be very single minded when there is something to be done, but not so much so that she can't handle ponies who bear watching.

So it was that the three of us headed out to three big box hardware stores in the Boston area. We were on a mission to build eight stalls for the pony paddock at the Winter Flea scheduled for mid January 2008 in Providence. Mistress had planned things out pretty well in advance, but you know how these things go. Details fail to cooperate, what seemed easy on paper needs a few adjustments in practice, certain ponyboys are useless with rulers and pencils and would rather look at the pretty Christmas displays and other sparkley things. Those sorts of distractions that make up what has come to be called the holiday season can wreak havoc on the organized mind. But Mistress proceeds with aplomb - and makes certain that her ponies do likewise.

We started at Lowe's. That's where the proper sort of fencing was being sold. It seems that Home Depot doesn't sell wooden picket fencing at this time of year as it is out of season for erecting garden fences. Well it isn't out of season for erecting stalls for human ponies. Someone should call and tell customer service that. I'm sure they'd listen.

The fencing was kept in the garden section, which meant that we started outdoors. It was pretty cold with a light breeze, so we worked fairly quickly. Stormy and I pulled out fence sections and held them up for Mistress to inspect and approve or reject. She chose nine of the best panels (which isn't saying much - at $14 per section, the stuff was a bit rough) and Stormy and I stacked them on a cart. Mistress started pulling the cart with Stormy and I following behind when she looked up and asked, "Why am I pulling this?"

Roles corrected, Stormy and I pulled the cart to the front. Then we headed into the store. It's odd, but there appears to be an inverse proportion between the size of the store and the probability that you will find everything you are looking for. You will always find one or two bolts of the sort you want, but if you need 150 things can get taxing. This pony doesn't do taxing very well. I got bored and wandered off a couple of times, finally getting engrossed in the socket wrench display (beneath it all, I'm a guy OK?). This continued until Mistress noticed that my sweatshirt had two strings on it. Lead lines, she called them. That put a stop to my wandering.

We checked out - or rather, Mistress checked out while Stormy and I pawed at the ground with our feet. I truly wonder if employees at these places don't notice the weird around them or if they have become so accustomed to it that they take it in stride.

Out in the parking lot we stacked the fence sections on top of Mistress' van for the short trip back to her house. Watching her tie the sections down with rope, I was glad we were not going to be traveling on highways at high speed. But the ties held and we got everything back to home base safely.

We had the fence sections, the carriage bolts, nuts and washers. Now all we needed were the corner plates, hitching rings and large screw eyes. That meant a trip to Home Depot so off we went.

Remember what I said about only one or two of the item you need? We had to haunt two different Home Depot locations to get everything. I was downright punchy by the time we came out of the last store. I look to Stormy at times like that because he's all about dignity and honor. He behaves himself well (most of the time - he started the foot pawing session at Lowe's). I need to learn that from him. All the same, I need to be foolish now and then. Ponies need a sense of play but learning where the limits are is important too.

Once back at the stable, we started the construction process. Mistress does a lot of figuring in her head and I quickly learned to avoid trying to follow what she was saying. Just do what you're told, ponyboy, and things will work out fine. Or at least, nobody can blame you if it all hits the fan. Either way, what bliss.

There was much sawing, measuring, marking and stacking. Stacking - that's what I do well. Stormy and Mistress busied themselves with measuring and marking while I carried fence segments about and found places to store them in the very small workspace we had. There was pizza, pineapple upside down cake and more work that evening until we were exhausted and unable to see straight. The night was capped off by one of the most kick-ass Martinis I have ever had, and we went to bed shortly thereafter.

Next day, Stormy had to leave early. We all had breakfast together and said our goodbyes. I hate seeing him leave, but life is like that. There was little time to dwell on such things, however, because we had more work to do.

Did I mention that I'm pretty useless with rulers and pencils? I can usually fumble my way through a project (like the model of a Tesla coil I built earlier this year) but only if I keep my eye on what I'm doing very carefully. Trouble is, I have a hard time staying out of pony space when I'm around Mistress. That can make for problems with concentration. I did well for the most part, and even caught my own mistake. Of course, I had committed that mistake four times before I caught it, but we were able to correct it without trauma or having to buy something new. Whew!

We also got a chance to talk about the bridling ceremony we will be doing at the Flea. For those who don't know, a bridling is the pony equivalent of a collaring. After it is done, I will be her pony. She may have other ponies, but I will have only one Mistress. I like the sound of that. We talked about how it could go and when it will take place. I don't want to spoil the fun by detailing it here, but no doubt you will be able to read about it here after the Flea. If you're coming to the Flea, you can attend! Look for the pony paddock and ask Ladresseuse or check the signs to see if the time is posted. Things like this should have witnesses.

Finally, it got to be afternoon. With a four hour drive ahead of me, I had to set out for home. That's always sad, but there is always the future.

Many thanks to Mistress, her wonderful partner (whom I met for the first time this trip), Stormy and the folks at Lowe's and Home Depot for making it all possible.