Chapter Four – Sarak learns about ponygirls

Sarak woke to the hum of bees, as they flew through the covering of trees above his head, and that of the glade he had spent the night. His awakening mind listened to the clamour of the bees as they travelled about their business. He heard the tinkle of the brook, as it ran over some stones before dropping into the pool that made up the centre of this peaceful intermission, in an otherwise fairly barren and sparse piece of countryside. The noises drifted through, and he heard further noises, those of horses or ponies as they stamped the grass in the morning light. Sarak woke then in a start, the previous day's memories flooding through. He stared around him, first locating the six ponygirls, then scanning the undergrowth, then as he stood, looking amongst the trees. Dropping his cloak to the ground, his covering for the night, he stretched and walked to the water's edge, kneeled and drank his fill. Then rising he gathered the knives he had collected from the fallen Masan, and set off to discover whether he and the ponies were still safe here, alone and without recourse to any other travellers coming upon them.

Sarak did a round of the woods, checking as far as he could see, and as close as he could see for any evidence of any other people in the area. Nothing stirred, apart from a small group of rabbits that he startled, and they ran from him to their burrows, but not before one fell to a well thrown knife. Sarak winced as the strain of throwing the knife tore again at the wound in his shoulder, allowing a small seepage of blood to travel down across his bare chest, running down to reach the waistline of his breeches. Returning to the glade where he had spent the night, Sarak had to pass the bloody remnants of what was left of the Masan, the vermin through the night already starting to work on the corpse, now bloated for the ants and worms to start their voyages through the putrefying flesh. Sarak thought of the downed ponygirl and went to look for her, finding her where he had left her lying under the wolf's fur that kept her from insects. She looked as if she was serenely asleep and finally at peace with herself.

Sarak picked up the backpacks two at a time and carried them to the glade, returning until seven packs lay before him. He opened each briefly, searching for some food for the ponygirls, and managed to find yet another small bag of mixed grains. Sarak remembered the bees, meaning with bees about there had to be honey, and maybe flowers or even some fruit. Looking up he determined the line of travel and set off to the far side of the wood, watching as some flew ahead of him and some flew the other way. Until he found the end of the journey of the bees, he would not know whether he and they were coming or going. Some five minutes later he knew he had been correct to follow the bees, for they were in amongst a small copse of apple trees going after the ripe fruit, the flowers and the nectar. Gathering as many of the ripe fruit as he could carry, he set off back towards his campsite and the ponies. On arrival he started cutting the apples up and removing the cores. As he walked across to the ponies he noticed how excited they were at his reappearance and the fact that he was carrying food. They pranced and preened themselves, straightening their legs, arching their backs and thrusting their breasts up and forward. All the while their arms hung by their sides, for he had removed all the harness from the ponies the night before.

He approached the group and they immediately pressed forward on the length of their halters, bending at the waist to try and take a piece of apple from his hands. Sarak was amazed that they made no attempt to use their hands or arms to help themselves. He held his palms out, with the apples on them, and the girls all fed from his hand, nuzzling around as they took bites from the pieces and then standing straight again to chew behind their bits. Sarak stood amongst the six ponies and fed them. While they ate he admired the fact that these ponies were six very good looking girls, in fact he estimated that they would all be in their early twenties as in human years. But for the fact that they had been raised as beasts of burden, he would have been hard pressed not to be embarrassed at the naked female bodies and the jiggling breasts. After they had eaten some of the apples, he dropped the halter ropes and taking them by their reins, he led them all down to the water's edge. Not stopping there, he led them into the water until they all stood waist deep in the warmth of the pool and the filtered sunlight coming through the trees. The six girls all had puzzled expressions on their faces as Sarak in turn unbuckled each of the ponies' head pieces, removing the reins and the mouth pieces, leaving the six of them totally naked and unadorned. Sarak walked out of the pool leaving them standing there, and the six of them looked around themselves with a definite unease, for never in their lives had they been in water like this, never in their lives had they been totally released from their bonds, and never had they been so free! The girls milled around in the water, bumping against each other as they splashed each other first with their bodies, and then with their arms as they realised that unlike in their previous captivity they were allowed arm movement. Finally the grunts and pony noises that they all made gave way to something akin to laughter, as the six of them enjoyed the water.

Sarak left the ponies scampering in the water, returning to where the downed ponygirl lay beneath the wolf skin. Using a branch, he scooped out a small and shallow grave. After removing all traces of her role as a ponygirl, her reins, halters and boots, Sarak covered her nude and good-looking body with the skin, before returning the dirt, and building a cairn over her with the surrounding rocks and stones. Sarak had not known the ponygirl, had not known this poor creature that had perished in the battle with the Masan, and Sarak dripped a tear of regret and apology for her lost life as he mumbled a few words. Later as time passed, whilst Sarak sat and watched the ponies in the water, and then as they continued to enjoy themselves he returned his attention to the backpacks that they had been carrying. The first brought him some silks and clothing, the second spices and salt, the third leather for shoes and bags, the fourth contained a little food and wine bags, the fifth held some trading implements like knives and sharpening stones, the sixth held nothing more than tools of the Masan’s trade – whips and pain implements, whilst the seventh and last held some of the Masan’s personal items – a razor, mirror, clothing, a small medicine kit and a few gold and silver coins. In reality Sarak was now a rich man. With the contents of the backpacks he could make some money, with the ponygirls he could make a living using them as had the Masan, or a small fortune should he decide to sell them. Sarak looked up and watched as the ponies frolicked in the water revelling in their freedom, watched as most of the past day's filth and blood dissolved and ran away, leaving in its wake six of the most beautiful women that Sarak had seen for a very long time.

One of the ponies, bored with the actions of her mates, turned and walked out of the water towards Sarak. Wet hair hung from her forehead across the shaven sides of her face, water dripping and running across her shoulders onto her full pointed breasts, and then as she rose further the water fell from the hard pointed nipples with their rings shining in the wetness. A tight and flat stomach gave way to a shaven pussy, as the waist and the hips also came out of the water, and finally the boots on her feet cleared the water, and the ponygirl stood before Sarak in all her naked glory and splendour. The slow walk out of the water had stunned Sarak, and he just sat there watching as this most beautiful of creatures, this animal woman, had walked towards him. He dragged his eyes away from her swaying body, looking up and deeply into the eyes of this pony, noticing how round and bright they were, with long dark eyelashes to match that of her hair, dark eyebrows surmounted glowing eyes as the pony looked at him. Knowing not what else to do, the pony tossed her head up and down, uttering a small neighing sound. Then, stepping forward again, she lowered her head and rubbed it against the naked shoulder of Sarak. She pushed at him, showing her thanks for the release, and the water, and the fun of the past moments. Sarak’s manhood strained against his leather breeches, for the sight, then the the close proximity and the fresh smell of this girl had raised pulse. His breathing became ragged, and his manhood strained further, thick and hard. He wanted to take this girl, but as he started to raise his hands towards her the other five came out of the water!

Heaven had come to Sarak, six of the most beautiful girls in the world surrounded him, all with long flowing damp hair across their shoulders, their bodies dripping water to the ground. As he stood surrounded, they all tossed those beautiful manes, attempting to touch him on his shoulders with their fine heads. Sarak’s erection subsided, as he realised that at this moment these girls were not girls, but trained and subservient ponies, and that what was happening, was that the six of them, were acting as ponies, and in their limited way thanking him for his actions. In their mind there was no thought of sex, for they were ponies that had had the brief moment of running free in the water. He looked upon them and realised that he needed to groom all of them, repair what tack needed looking after, feed them regularly, and bring them back to their very best for selling. Sarak left the group and walked over to where the bridles, the bits, the leather strapping, the butt plug tails, and the rest of their body strapping lay, and as he did this the ponygirls followed him, still trying to thank him, still trying to rub against his shoulder. He was forced along by their attentions, six ponies wanting attention, six ponies with nothing else on their minds but to look at this, their new master, to experience with their inquisitive minds the situation. Sarak in his short time of becoming their master and herdsman, realised that this herd of ponies was just following a natural trained instinct.

He took a bridle from the ground and lifted it towards the first pony, which backed away from him, then presented it to the second who likewise backed away, the third also, and then the fourth stepped forward and opened her mouth. Sarak realised that all the ponies could recognise their own headpieces. Upon fixing all the straps and buckles firmly in place, he led her across the grass and tethered her to a tree. Rapidly he did the same to the remaining ponies until all six were bridled and tethered. Taking a rest he gathered one of the confusing sets of straps towards him, looking at the different widths and lengths of the pieces, and how they fitted together, some open and some buckled to rings of brass and steel. There was only one brass ring, and starting with this ring fitted between a pony’s breasts, the rest would go on quite easily, across and around, over and under, and after almost an hour, Sarak had the six girls fully tacked up, with their head pieces, their chest bindings, their arms locked in place ready to accept the backpacks and the crotch piece through their legs fixed to the waist cincher. They looked absolutely beautiful as he gazed upon them, and all six stamped their feet in their pleasure of being firmly and tightly restrained yet again.

Sarak did notice in his fitting of the ponies that there were some failures in parts of their equipment, and he spent the whole morning removing straps and rings and resewing them again, using the equipment from one of the backpacks. Two of the pony’s had thrown shoes and he had to not only fit two of them with new shoes, but on many of the hooves he had to re-nail the shoes as they had come loose over their travelling. He marvelled at the boots these young ponies wore. A hoof as alike as a horse's hoof, blended and moulded with leather, and strapped tight up to just under their knees, so fitted and so angled that the ponies walked on their toes. Over time and practice they had acquired the motion and the stride of the horse, lifting their legs high as they paced forward. Throughout his repair time, Sarak realise that he had thought of these girls as ponies; there had not been any thought of using them as girls, and as he stood and surveyed them, he reserved his judgment and deliberated upon his fortunes, and his now well dressed small herd of ponygirls.

As he stood there, he suddenly realised that he had not completed his dressing of the six, and that lying in a pile a little away were the dirty and tangled mess of their plugs and tails. Sarak picked them up, and took them to the water. He washed away all stains to the plugs, with copious use and rubbing of sand against them. The hair flowed out into the water and he washed each luxurious tailpiece with soap from the kit, and on completion to his satisfaction he hung the tails to dry amongst the branches of the trees around him. He took the girls to the water, and let them kneel and drink. He allowed them to feed upon the apples and the last of the grains he had retrieved from a backpack, before again tying them to their respective trees. And, he in turn fed upon a little dried bread and some near rancid cheese from the same pack, washing it down with a mouthful of the fine red wine contained within the skins from another pack.

The day changed to afternoon, then late afternoon, the shadows started to lengthen; the ponies sleepily lazed amongst the trees or lay on the ground and drifted in and out of sleep. Sarak slept off the effects of his wine drinking, and on awakening decided to have a swim in the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine. Removing his breaches, he slipped into the water and swum up and down a few times, rolling over and over in the warmth. Diving and skimming the bottom, then chasing some medium size fish. He must catch some of these for eating later, he thought, as he continued his lazy meandering in the water. Having washed and cleansed himself, he started to walk out of the small lake. Looking up he noticed that the six ponies were standing in the late afternoon sun, a ray of light had pierced the canopy and was highlighting the ponies. They were all looking at him as he stood dripping from the lake, his penis rising from between his legs. He looked at the six gorgeous girls, dressed in their full pony gear, yet short of their tails. He took a tail from the tree beside him; long luxurious black hair that he just knew belonged in the second pony. He walked across to the girls, his member now stiff and hard, his balls hanging heavy. The girls were also aroused as they watched his approach. They recognised his manhood and what it could do for them, for this was also part of their training. As he approached, all six of them started to juice up, getting wet between their legs. They rolled their eyes, and lifted their buttocks, vying for attention from their new Master.

Sarak walked to the black haired girl, and with gentle pats to her cheeks persuaded her to turn away from him. Then, as he pressed on her shoulder, she bent at the waist, presenting him with a perfect view of her wet and now slightly open pussy lips, and her tight little anal ring. This was obviously too dry to push the plug home, so he chose her vagina, pushing it in and out, letting her juices literally soak the plug, then in a quick movement he swapped and pushed it into her anus. It was tight at first until the muscle relaxed, and then with a little push from Sarak, it disappeared inside with a slight plopping noise, a sigh of pleasure from the pony, and a gush of pent out breath from Sarak. He had completed his first tailing of a pony. Four more of the ponies were tailed in the same way, their juices lubricating the plugs. Sarak left them standing their with long and now clean plugs and tails. The last pony was not ready, was not juicing, and as Sarak reached for her she danced away, tossing her head. He reached again, and again she danced away, making small noises from her throat, until Sarak realised that she did not want the plug. Maybe there is a good reason, he thought. Untying her, he led her some distance from the others, where she immediately spread her legs and dropped manure to the ground and pissed upon the grass. She was pleased, and tossed her head, and neighed softly to Sarak, who took her back to the water for washing. He led her into the water to her knees and made her drop down and lean forward, whereupon he washed her pussy and her anal opening, then helping her up he led her back up to the grass where he hade made his camp.

She was the youngest of the ponies, he reckoned, maybe about 20 years old, with a long auburn mane and matching tail. Small, hard and pointed breasts looked at him as he took a cloth and started to dry her down after her bath. She stamped her hoof as he brushed down her thighs, parting them so that he could dry her pussy and anus. Whilst he had tailed the others, his own manhood had subsided as he had tended to the ponies. But as he continued to brush this pony down, he hardened, and she got wet at the sight of his manhood protruding from between his legs. Without thinking, for she was an animal in heat, she dropped to her knees. Leaning forward and placing her forehead to the grass, presenting him with a warm and wet pussy, as she spread her knees awaiting his entrance. Sarak could not resist this offering from the pony. He knelt behind her, touching the head of his hard penis against her outer lips, and as he did so, they parted, allowing him so slip forward into the pink warmth and wet depths of her insides. He slowly penetrated her until his balls hit against her mons. Deep inside her, he started to rock backwards and forwards, his speed increasing as his need increased, and beneath him the ponygirl thrust back against him, and on every withdrawal she tensed her vaginal muscles, to hold him in. That action only increased Sarak’s need, for her muscles were succeeding in milking him, and as he rose towards his climax, he felt his head hitting against her insides. Just as he reached that point, and as his penis reached its height of hardness, swollen to its full girth, he felt the pony's insides opening. He felt the opening blossom deep within her, and his head slipped inside just a little further. With that final act of acceptance from the ponygirl, he started to pump his seed within her, spurts of warm jism deep into her womb. As he came so did she, her body shuddering in a climax, a scream of delight escaping her mouth piece into the grass.

Within a moment of recovery the young ponygirl had also been tailed, and Sarak helped her to her shaking feet before leading her back to the resting place for the night. The other ponies had witnessed his taking of the young girl, and they gathered around her, sharing in the warmth of the moment, rubbing their bodies against hers, smelling the man-scent, as his juices leaked and ran down her legs. The young ponygirl mouthed her bit in a grimace of a smile. She had enjoyed the moment for the first time, for any time before she had been taken against her will, either by the Masan or someone she had been given too. Yet now, this moment had been different, this time had been different, this master was different, and she knew that this taking of her, this mounting of her as she gave herself to him, was going to be a success, for she knew, as only a female can know, that those life giving juices that he had pumped within her would indeed start a new life – instinctively she knew she was with foal.