Ponygirl Poem

PONYGIRL
By Roberta Angela Dee

There's the spirit of the wind in her eyes
As she stomps ground with her pony high heels;
Her black leather corset fits, I surmise,
Like a saddle on a mare trained to yield.

She is docile, yet wonderfully wild --
A Domme's dream, a Master's fantasy;
And she moves with such elegance and style --
A blend of beast and femininity.

To the will of her Trainer, as dusk breaks,
Her full derriere, her slim tiny waist,
She prances about with strength and with grace,
Obeying her Trainer, holding her pace.

Her breasts sweetly on her shelf bra jiggle,
Her nipples stand out in cold morning air,
Her beautiful brown tail seems so fickle,
Each makes this image of my human mare.

Ponygirl takes me to a strange new world
Where submissive femmes becomes our tamed beasts;
And oh what a delightful treat -- these girls
We ride and display at exotic feasts.

Wond'ring whether she understands my pride,
I take her out now for a lustful ride.
And when the winds make me just a bit cold,
I'll lead her to her favorite water hole.