Chapter 1

“The first thing I need you to do, Jeff, is help your sister onto the rig. You’ve seen me get into position enough times that you know how it works. It’s harder to do than you thought, isn’t it, Ellie?” I laughed when my daughter wobbled on her hoof heels as she tentatively backed up.

Ellie nodded once, careful to maintain her balance with her arms bound behind her and the mask in place, effectively blinding her. She was taking this very seriously and trying to keep her shoulders straight and her chin up like I taught her.

However, she was a long way from good form or even perfect form. She didn’t stick her tits out and clench her ass cheeks. She didn’t smile with her eyes, and she lacked confidence. I tried to reassure my daughter that she would get better over time.

I also wanted my son to know that he was doing a good job as her groom. I was reluctant to show him how to put Ellie through her paces, but they had both brought this idea to me and seemed so enthusiastic that I thought I would satisfy their curiosity and be done hours ago.

“Good boy, Jeff. I’m glad to see you’re not worried about touching her. That’s important because her senses are limited right now, and she’s orienting herself with the cool metal of the frame and your hands. Yes, nudge her thighs apart like you’ve seen your father do to me. Further apart, Ellie. I want to see pink! You’ll feel your shoes slip into the grooves on the foot pads when you have it right.”

Ellie snorted in consternation, likely feeling as though her thighs were already a mile wide. I know because that’s how I felt the first few times Peter introduced me to the posture frame, or ‘rig,’ as he calls it.

Of course, my daughter isn’t allowed to speak with the bit in her mouth, and she’d already mastered that lesson. Snorts and whinnies only while she is in training.

She’s a bit of a chatty Cathy ordinarily. I was certain it was driving her crazy to only be able to communicate in an animalistic fashion. It’s a little dehumanizing, and that is by intention. Ponygirls are supposed to serve instead of talking.

This wasn’t real training, of course. Pony girls don’t train pony girls, although Ellie had begged to be allowed to experience what she’d seen me do for a number of years, and now that Jeff had expressed interest in being a groom, there really wasn’t a good reason not to have a little family bonding opportunity while Peter was out of town.

There was no point in hiding that my husband and I shared an interest in ponygirl training. My parents did as well. The kids had grown up knowing that. I had made no secret of the awards that I’ve won over the years, and there were even a few portraits of me in my pony regalia in the privacy of my bedroom.

There was no point in forbidding them to do it, either. The best way to motivate a teenager to do something is to tell them they can’t do it. I felt like I could show them safely how to engage in the very basics. There was nothing really sexual about any of this.

Ellie’s breasts and pussy were exposed, but ponygirl training was never really about sex. Sexuality is a byproduct of pony play. I saw nothing wrong in guiding them safely as long as they were interested in satisfying their curiosity. I had no desire to turn my daughter into a new foal. I was simply showing her and Jeff the basics so that she could have a conversation with her father about it if she wanted to take it any farther.

The regalia was just sitting in the closet gathering dust, and I had the free time. I have to admit it was kind of fun to show them because it was all new to them. However, I’d rather have been in the harness myself.

I wasn’t prepared to use some of the more advanced toys and tools on my daughter, especially the butt plug. I saw no harm in the small clips that are attached to the labia to pull the pussy lips open and apart slightly when a girl is harnessed.

“Okay, Jeff, we’ll leave the plug out, but I want you to use the labial clips before Ellie puts her feet together again. Just one on either side, for starters. I only want to give your sister a feel for them. No, a little lower. Yes, that’s it. Same with the other side.”

“Her lips are really slippery, mom. I can’t get a good grip. Even though they are thicker and meatier than yours, they are much smaller, and I need to pinch them more than Dad does with yours,” Jeff volunteered. Ellie’s were certainly more compact than mine, and she was clearly lubricating. A lot.

I wasn’t sure if her little brother understood fully WHY my daughter’s lips were “slippery”. The way that he announced that she was wet made me think that he thought her pussy was disgusting like a snail’s belly. I assumed he was old enough to know that girls got wet now that he was starting high school.

“That’s okay. You’ve got this,” I assured them both as Ellie grunted her reaction to her brother being a little rougher with her nether lips than she’d expected. “Once you’ve got them both clipped, turn the ratchet. Two turns. Remember, do it slowly. There’s no hurry or need to prove you’re an expert. You’re not. All rushing will do is induce unwanted anxiety in your sister. This is as much a demonstration for you as it is for her, okay?”

Ellie’s pussy lips spread like butterfly wings as Jeff turned the crank. My daughter has a pretty pussy, seemingly made for being spread like she was. I would have loved to have a pretty little pussy like hers.

I noted that Ellie had groomed herself very well but hadn’t shaved off all of her pubic hair. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel knowing that most ponies are completely hairless. I assumed she was proud of the little tuft of hair she had growing above her pussy, because she had cultivated a perfect landing strip.

“Run your fingers through her slit. Get her clit good and extended. That’s it,” I praised my son.

“Can I use the clit clamp?” he asked hopefully when he recognized her clit poking out of its sheath.

“No, not today. This is only a demonstration. I probably shouldn’t have had you even connect the labia clamps, but I wanted you two to get comfortable with such intimate contact. If you’re really set on being a groom, you need to be experienced with a wide variety of cunts, and Ellie needs to get used to feeling others manipulating hers when she can’t see what’s happening. How are you doing, Ellie? Too much?”

“Moooom. I’ve seen Dad do this a million times. I want to do the full prep. The plug and all the clamps, too!” Jeff complained, ignoring his sister’s response. He wanted to stick something up his sister’s butt. I wasn’t sure Ellie was comfortable with that.

At the same time as Jeff was whining, Ellie shook her head and whinnied. Just like me, needing to be manipulated by a groom was a side benefit of the rig. She was enjoying herself, but it was impossible to tell if she was protesting or agreeing with her little brother.

“This isn’t just about what you want, Jeff. Do you want to put your sister off training to be a ponygirl by pushing her too far, too fast? It’s as much a lesson in restraint for you as it is a lesson in being restrained for Ellie.”

“I guess, but that’s why I wanted to work with you,” Jeff replied. “I’d like to put YOU in a rig.”

I chuckled. “You have to trot before you can run,” I assured my son that he had a long way to go before that would happen. “Focus on doing this. Once I’m satisfied you’ve got all the steps down cold and can work the emergency releases, then I’ll ask your father if you can put me in the rig. Not before,” I was firm on that, which was easy considering Peter had already made the demonstration limitations clear.

I had been placed in a rig by total strangers acting as my groom at pony events. I’d never considered allowing my son to be that familiar with my body before. I wasn’t opposed to it, but he had to know what he was doing first. I certainly wasn’t going to volunteer for that on his first day.

Jeff didn’t say anything. He continued to pout.

“Your father has been very generous in allowing this at all in his absence. Do you want to pack it in for the day?”

“No! I just want you to see that I already know what to do!” Jeff said in resignation.

“I’m sure you do, Jeff, but we’re doing it my way today. Now, slide the bar in between her arms and back and lock it in place. Ellie’s about as tall as me, but you’ll probably have to use position 4 instead of 8 like your father does with me.”

“Yeah, she’s a little dumpling, isn’t she?” Jeff snickered and alluded to the fact that his sister had a little baby weight on her thighs.

“Jeffrey Thompson! We do not have body shame in this family! Your sister just turned 18, which is really the only reason your father is permitting her to experiment like this. She’s been growing out, not up. How would you feel if Ellie called you scrawny?” I asked. Ellie had sprouted big tits and a big butt, but she wasn’t going to get any taller. Jeff was tall but skinny.

“I meant it in a cute way, Mom,” Jeff backpedaled. “My friends all think so!”

“Sure you did, Jeff,” I replied, deciding to let it go this time. I’d seen a couple of his friends practically drooling over her when they were visiting. I had to show him how to put my daughter into position four because Jeff obviously didn’t know what it meant.

Ellie may have just graduated from high school, but her breasts were already the same size as mine, and her butt was certainly a lovely round peach. She didn’t have washboard abs, although I suspected that within the next six months to a year, the last of her baby fat would be completely gone. I considered her adorable, especially with her strong Latino features and long raven hair down past her butt crack.

Jeff, on the other hand, takes after his father. Slim, bright red curly hair, and already 5’11”. Jeff isn’t even 15 yet. If it wasn’t for his lack of a tan and unfortunate acne issues, he’d be a truly stunning example of a future heartbreaker. We just about have the acne controlled, but he really cannot tan due to his Scottish ancestry. We never spoke about that. His lack of olive pigmentation is a sore spot for him.

“Just lift her right leg slightly, bend the knee, very demure, pussy lips should be slightly spread, tits out, chin up,” I helped him adjust Ellie using the tip of a riding crop to guide her. Position eight was a little more ‘exposed’ with all holes visible and the legs much more spread.

Once I was satisfied that Ellie was in a properly posed position, I continued with the demonstration.

“Okay, the bar is in place and latched? Go on and connect her collar next. You’ll need to move Ellie’s ponytail out of the way so you don’t pinch it. Good. Ellie, can you nod your head?”

Ellie did her best to nod, but the posture collar didn’t allow much leeway, and with the back of it now clipped to the rig, her head was practically immobilized. She was rigid and looked very tense. That was good – it was supposed to be an exercise in tension and holding herself in position. It took a great deal of practice and endurance to stand properly like a show pony for hours.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” I sought and received affirmation that Ellie wasn’t in distress despite being almost completely immobilized. I knew I wasn’t cut out to be a trainer or a groom, but I knew enough to be aware of her mental as well as physical well-being while we trained.

“Okay, bring your feet together now. You’ll feel your labia stretch, but that’s okay. It’s supposed to pull.”

Ellie nickered in a very horse-like way as the clamps holding her labia apart stretched when she brought her legs back together.

I remember thinking there was something wrong the first time I experienced the sensation. I had expected the tension on my labia to relax when I first used the rig, but the way the cables connected to Ellie’s cunt and the rig worked was to cause her outer lips to stretch further, focusing her attention on that small part of her anatomy.

I hadn’t even let Jeff plug her cunt and ass. I’d let her discover that little treat next time if there was one. This episode may have satiated her curiosity and would be the last I heard of it. Ellie was too proud to bail in the middle of the session, especially since it was suggested.

She might be feeling humiliated or exhausted and I didn’t want to push her too hard on her first session.

I paused for a moment. The next step was usually to clamp the nipples, but I wasn’t sure about that. This was only a demonstration. I wasn’t about to leave Ellie in the rig, doing knee lifts for the next hour like I’d do so she didn’t really need the nipple bells to ring with each lift, but on the other hand, feeling the pressure on her nipples would be a good experience.

“Alright, Jeff,” I decided on the spot, “I know you’ve been dying to clamp her nipples. But since this is her first time, she has a lot of her the nubs of her nipples under the clamps, too. Your sister’s nips aren’t as big as mine and rigid as mine, and I don’t want you to damage them. They are still developing.”

“You mean they’re gonna get bigger? Damn!” Jeff said, already lifting her breast, trying to close the gap between her right nipple and the dangling clamp.

“That’ll never work, Jeff,” I said with a little giggle. “I’m about six inches taller than her. You’ll have to drop the support boom a little. We’re not trying to torture Ellie!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, sis,” Jeff said, letting her breast go and scooting around the rig to the other side, where he dropped the boom, holding the clamps a few inches. “Will that do?”

I was satisfied and directed him to attach clips to her labia. They were designed to hang small lead weights between the thighs. These “knockers” clack back and forth while we march and hold our pussy lips apart. A few trainers have knockers with little spiked edges to add a little pain to every step. I just wanted Ellie to feel the stretching and not the full weight today.

“A little more. There, perfect. Now clamp it back and try again,” I observed my daughter’s puffy lips as the clips bit into them and watched as her juices ran down her thighs. Jeff may not have any idea of what that gooey substance was but I certainly did.

I had eaten a lot of pussy in my life, but never thought about my own daughter’s vagina in a sexual way. It certainly looked edible and inviting! I felt like a really naughty mommy for even admiring it.

The clip is attached to a chain that reached Ellie’s nipple, and when Jeff clamped it onto her tits, it caused an audible gasp from Ellie but without stretching her breast out of shape or squashing her nipples. They would be sore for a little while as a reminder of this session but no worse for the wear.

“Your father connects the clamps then raises the support to stretch out my tits when he wants to punish them, but we’re not doing that with Ellie,” I explained to Jeff, even though he’d seen his father do that a few times.

“Yeah, I know. Can I at least cane each once?” Jeff asked, not being mean but wanting to experience the feeling of caning captured breasts. He seemed a little impatient to show me what he could do and to drive things.

I am not a naturally dominant person, and I’d very much have liked to offer over control to someone else. However, he just wasn’t ready, and I didn’t think Ellie was either.

“Grooms don’t do that, Jeff. Only trainers can, and you only get to be a trainer after a year as a groom. Anyway, when we talk later, your sister might tell you she doesn’t want to be disciplined. Being a pony girl doesn’t automatically mean you want your tits thrashed. Just because I like it doesn’t mean that every pony girl does, and Ellie hasn’t had nearly enough experience with this to know what she wants.”

Ellie neighed behind the bit, although I couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or disagreeing. I did know that her fascination with ponyplay revolved around the look and poise of pony girls and their dedication to their role.

“Okay, Ellie, are you comfortable?” I asked.

Ellie knew I meant ‘relatively’ since the rig was not a truly comfortable piece of training equipment because she did her best to nod.

“Good. Now lift your left knee until it rings the bell on your nipple clamp.”

Ellie lifted a knee and rang the bell, but the wrong knee.

“Other left,” I giggled, knowing that such mistakes were very common among new foals.

She was understandably stressed and doing her best to make me proud, but she didn’t need to try to do that. I was very proud of her already.

“Ellie, stop. In fact, both of you. Take a breath and listen carefully because I have something to tell you both.”

Ellie was already lifting her left knee, but she paused the moment I told her to. The girl had real promise. Her knee came down again.

“Jeff, you need to slow down. You’ve made the decision to become a groom, and you’re attacking it like you need to prove to me you have years of experience, but you don’t. I’m your mother. I know you don’t. There’s no need to prove what you can do, but there is a need to prove you’ve got what it takes to learn.”

“I know that, mom. But I’ve watched you and Dad a million times. I DO know what to do!”

“Then you missed a major lesson, Jeff. Step one ... before anything else, is to be calm, and that will help calm your pony girl. If you are fidgety and nervous or rushed, she will be, too. You want to direct your sister, so think of her as a real horse that you are trying to saddle or harness to a wagon. you don’t see your father or other grooms create panic or tension by moving too quickly. They take their time and are very deliberate with their movements. You set the tone for how Ellie acts, Jeff.”

“As for you, Ellie, you’ve been saved a little from having to see your brother turn himself inside out, wanting to show me he knows everything, but you’ve still done yourself a disservice by overthinking practically everything you’ve heard. The result is you not knowing your left from your right. In a competition, that would be an immediate disqualification.”

I instructed Ellie to lift her left knee and ring the bell attached to her nipple, then return it to the floor. I then counted out loud to three before telling her to lift her left knee again. I repeated the instruction, and the count half a dozen times, randomly choosing left or right before asking Jeff to take over. I still had to slow his counts between knee lifts, but I think after a while, he began to grasp the lesson more fully.

After five minutes of leg lifts, I noticed Ellie was no longer anticipating Jeff’s instructions and was simply following his lead like a proper ponygirl. All in all, a good session, but that just made me want to don my own gear and practice, too.

To be honest, I felt a little jealous of my daughter practicing the art I’d spent years perfecting while I had to stand there and supervise. It was a wonderful reminder that I certainly had no interest in being a trainer!

I let Jeff train Ellie for a few more minutes while she was in the rig, although I knew from experience that the innocent-looking rig could do a number on the unsuspecting first-time user, so I walked Jeff through the steps to release his sister before I supervised him removing the armbinder that held he arms together behind her back, tack, mask, and pony boots.

Once Ellie was completely nude again, I handed Jeff a hairbrush and massage oil. Ellie was smiling widely like she’d proven to herself she had been right in her insistence on experiencing the thrill of being bound and turned into a work of art, as well as being worked physically. I know the feeling well.