A Ponygirl's Confusion

by Nob

- do not use without the author's permission.


My collar is snug and quite wide,

Constructed of buffalo hide;

        It holds my head tall:

        I can’t move it at all –

But God knows how much I have tried!


And my gag will prevent any cry

Of pain or of strain, not a sigh;

        But my collar’s main aim

        Is to build up my shame:

I must look Master straight in the eye.


With my arms strapped so tightly behind,

There’s simply no way I can find

        To avoid Master’s teasing

        My breasts by just squeezing,

And enjoying the way I’m confined.


Then my leash makes me stumble along,

And if I do anything wrong,

        Master’s dildo is styled

        To drive me quite wild

When shoved up where it should belong.


Though resigned to my ponygirl’s station,

It is something that yields no elation:

        To be quickly excited,

        Then left unrequited,

Leaves me in horrendous frustration.


Yet would I give up this enslavement

To live by myself on the pavement?

        No, I would miss all my straps

        And the whip’s awful snaps,

And all that just being a slave meant!



END