Barefoot Guy

Pony Boy Racers

Chapter One
New Stock

He was a seriously cute kid, about age thirteen or fourteen would be my guess. He had straight black hair that hung just below the shoulders and down into his face. Looked like the front was cut to hang as low as his button nose, he was constantly brushing it to the side wet or dry; with his hands.

I love this area, the Outer Banks of North Carolina, its miles and miles of miles and miles. Vast stretches of empty beach where one can be alone or continue on to the touristy spots. This boy must have been a local, he knew where he wanted to be and that was alone with the sand and the sea and his towel and soccer ball. His mistake.

I enjoy boy watching, I've been a people watcher all my life. But as I grew older, not that I'm all that old only twenty-five, I liked watching boys best, and summer is my favorite time of year. It was now late afternoon and my boy seemed to be getting ready to leave. He was wrapping up his belongings and heading back to his mountain bike, which was chained to a telephone pole near the two lane road. That timing worked perfectly for me. This was going to be easy. I pulled my van up to the siding along the road near his bike, popped open the side door and sat down drinking a soda.

I made myself as causal and non-threatening looking as possible, being young helped. They never suspect that someone my age would be a serious threat. The most they think is that I want to sell them some weed or something. My van is clean an in good shape, no worrying issues there. He came over the sand dune looked at me and without a second thought kept heading for his bike and what he thought would be a long bike ride home.

"Hey there, you'd like a soda?" I asked him.

"Na, no thanks. I gotta get going." He said as he loaded up his bike and unlocked it. That chain might come in handy I note to myself.

"Ah come on, take a minute. It's hot and you've probably got a ways to ride home. One for the road!' and I hand him an open can of soda.

He takes the soda but seeing its open he doesn't take a swig. I haven't drugged it but this has given me the chance to get close. I grab him and quickly spin him around so his back is facing me. With my left arm around his chest I pull out of my back pocket my well-used and trusty pair of cuffs with my free right hand and get his writs locked behind him. He lets out a scream and his legs are kicking wildly. Wearing only flip-flops his feet don't pack much of a punch, one of his flips falls off during his struggle. I push him down, while holding onto his bound arm, to the ground. His tee shirt covered chest is now on the loose sand and gravel of the siding. His head swings from side to side as he looks for a way out of this situation, as he fights me. Little bits of sand and dirt stick to his smooth cheeks as he trashes around.

His bike stands a few feet in front of him, his freedom, his only escape, but it's lost to him now. I place my foot into the small of his back holding him in place and spin around facing down his legs. He's lost both flip flops now and is barefoot, I grab his calves and drag him toward my van and his fate.

He's easily dragged into the open door of my van, which gets slammed shut behind him. The miles and miles of miles out here have heard his cries for help, but other then me, no body else has.

I have this gag I made myself, it's great for small size mouths like his. It's made from a practice golf ball, it's got holes in it to allow air through. It looks like a small wiffle baseball. Through the holes at either end I have secured, with the addition of a couple of knots either side, a leather shoe lace. A quick stop at a local mega-mart and you've got yourself an effective gag. It fits behind the front teeth into the mouth. Keeps his tongue pressed down and his mouth open.

It takes me a bit of pressure, but it pops into place inside his mouth and the lace is tied tightly behind his head. I grab his still kicking feet and tie them with rope and do the same with his knees after the feet are tight. I bind his big toes together and a rope from those bound digits to the chain connecting the cuffs. He's now in an uncomfortable hog tie. Satisfied I push him inside a large doggie cage at the back of the van.

"Relax and you'll be alright. Do as your told, do a good job, and you'll be home before sunrise!' I inform him. He's seriously peeved right now and kicking, as best he can, at the cage walls. He's not going anywhere, this one is designed to hold a pit bull! After that I pick up his towel, soccer ball, and the flippies, chain and bike toss them into the van and we drive off.

It's about an hour later as I pull the van to our destination. It's a large, old red barn out in the middle of the isolated North Carolina countryside. Tall weeds boarder the parking area, which is already loaded with cars, trucks and vans. I can see that already several of the owners and their ponies are entering the barn. All the pony boys have their hands tied or cuffed behind them, a rule, and most have collars around their necks. I like this touch, and my cargo will be getting his as soon as I get him out of his cage. It makes the newbie ponies so much easier to control, I think.

He's not a happy camper, but I don't care. I've seen this before and am used to it. I roughly drag him out of the cage and show him a sharp looking and very scary black bladed knife. He instantly understands and goes rock solid still. Not that he knows it, but this knife is for one purpose only.

"Hold very still," I inform him.

Then I slowly and deliberately cut off his tee shirt from the neck down to his slim waist. He's got a very cute belly button in the middle of his flat tummy and two little pink nipples kissed by the sun. Then the sleeves of his former tee shirt are sliced. I toss the shredded cloth to the side of the van. He won't need that again anyway.

I pull out of my bag of tricks his new collar. A thick red leather number that locks in place with a small but effective and heavy padlock In addition to the leather collar I add a heavy homemade chain dog leash and untie his toes and ankles. His knees remain tightly bound with rope. I stand him up on the gravel and with a yank on the leash inform him its time to start walking. He's able to walk but not run away. I hold onto the leash and his shoulder and guide him into the wide open door of the bar.

At the administration desk, a table really, we get my paperwork and they snap a quick instant picture of my new pony. A race official writes the number 503 with a grease pencil on his chest, back and on each of his arms. This will identify him while he's racing and the picture is for the betting board. He's then led away by the official and put in the holding pen with other racers. The first race for him is the fifth race out of ten tonight and he'll be in lane three. I head for the owners section; I can't be seen with ordinary spectators if I'm fielding a pony after all.

Inside the holding pen my racer is pushed in so quickly he bumps into another racer tied the same was he is, but not gagged. Being gagged isn't a requirement, but I find with newbies – it's essential.

"Whoa there, dude, calm down sparky. Oh man you're gagged. Sorry dude, those oxen can be rough sometimes. If my hands where free I'd ungag you. But anyway, my name's Brad, good to meet ya."

My pony nods and mumbles as best he can with the ball in his mouth, "chavvfith."

"Okay let me guess, your name is David?"

David nods vigorously, the look in his eyes must express some amazement to Brad and he smiles and replies, "I've gotten pretty good at understanding gagged boys. I've been racin' for two years now, since I was twelve."

"Vwat es guchinch on?" the gagged boy struggles to ask.

"Is this your first time?" Brad asks. David nods.

"We're ponies, we race, duh. Look sorry you're here but you gotta get it through your head. You're property now, nothing more than a ponyboy. We race it's that simple."

My pony has tears forming in his eyes now. "Doof vee ghet cto coe ho?"

"Do we get to go home? Yeah we get to go home," The sad boy cheers up a bit before Brad smashes his hope to bits. "We get to go home, to the guy who now owns you's home!" The other pony boys around all have a good laugh the ones not gagged that is. My pony is openly crying now. I love the hazing of the new stock.

Brad is a typical teenager, well as typical as a captive ponyboy teenager can be. He likes to play some cruel games with new ponies but he's not heartless. 'Ah come on, David,' he says moving toward the bench provided in the holding cage. "Sit here and relax." They both have a seat.

"Look, you'll be okay. We ponies try to stick together as best we can. Most of these guys are my friends now. Except on the race track, then we all are out to get each other. To win. That's what you gotta do. You gotta win. If you win your owner will keep you around, you'll be making him money and he'll take care of you because you're worth something to him."

My pony nodded slowly from time to time, but the fear and despair in his eyes never left.

"If you can win life will be okay, not great, but okay, if you lose you'll be sold off, and you don't want that, dude. Trust me. One thing though, if you're racing me, your gunna lose." Then Brad bumped shoulders with my pony and a sign of support and friendship. My pony leaned onto the more experienced ponyboy's shoulder and kept his head bowed as he cried just a bit more.

After much fanfare and delaying race number five is ready to begin. My racer has been in holding for about three hours. Yeah, they're not fast here. You've got races, then race-offs of the top two ponies and then the first couple of race winners race each other, it's all very complicated. But my boy is up and he's placed in stall number 3, his knees are untied and the door he entered is locked tight. I decide to leave him gagged. Since he's new his instructions are given to him by an official from above his stall.

"You'll notice there, boy, that you're standing on a metal plate, that will give you a shock if you stay on it, so once this door here," he pats the door with an open hand, "you take off a'runnin' and don't stop until you get to the end. If you win your owner wins the pot and you advance. I'd advise you to run to win, the more you win the happier your owner will be and the easier it will be for you. Got it, boy?"

He nods.

The usual race announcements are going over the loud speaker. They really do it up right here, y'all might think we were racing cars here instead of boys. Now let me tell you about the rules: All boys must have their hands secured behind them. They can be gagged if the owner wants. They all must race shirtless and barefoot nudity isn't required but isn't excluded either. Tonight we've had some real treats for the eye. Usually if a boy races naked it's because he's to be sold off as stock after the night's races are over. Call it a preview of the auction stock before the sale The ponyboy sales all take place in the pre-dawn hours out in the field behind the barn.

The boys race in slots, once the door opens they see a long corridor lined on each side with chain link fence, it's 50 yards [45m] long and runs out the back of the barn to the end where another stall is waiting to 're-capture' the boy once he enters it. The first one there wins, second place and so on. Just like the horseys!

Bang, all ten slot doors open and out run ten fit and bound boys. They are tearing across the soft dirt and lose straw of the track at top speed. My black-haired boy is out in front. I knew I was right about his legs! They can pump!

I don't believe it, he wins. The first race with a newbie and I win. Cool! That means he immediately races the number two winner of this race and the winner of that last race; after a reset of the boys and a brief rest and some cold water.

He done so darn good I inform the official to ungag him. I visit him in his stall before the next race starts.

"Hey dude, that was awesome! You were a long shot and you won. I just won like $500."

"Are you going to let me go home, mister?" is all he can ask.

"Yeah, sorry about that lie before. Just makes taking a newbie easier if they think they have a way out. But no, you're not going home. This is you're home now."

"Are you going to sell me or hurt me or worse?" a scared little voice asks.

"What's you're name, kid?"

"D-D-David"

"Well David all you gotta do is keep winning. Got it?"

"Yeah." He says.

To make a long story short, he won the next race too, but came in second in his heat after that one, which got him advanced anyway. The next one though he lost. But with the wins he got I won a total of $927

He's sweaty and dirty and his feet are raw and sore, but he's generally okay. He's in the holding pen. I'm forbidden from removing him until after the championship race- like all the owners are. But they feed and water 'em and he seems to have made a couple new friends inside as he was chatting away with the other ponies, winners and losers.

After the final race, in which I won another $300, betting on Brad, I decide to take in the auction with my new ponyboy. His knees are again bound and I've hobbled his ankles with about eighteen inches [45cm] of rope between his ankles. He's tightly gagged as I don't want interruptions from him.

There are four ponies for sale today. A cute little blonde, two brown-haired boys and a redhead. The blonde is a newbie too and lost the first race, lost, hell he came in last after falling over and giving himself some scrapes and bruises. Not many bids on him and he goes for less than $50. The two brown-haired kids are brothers it turns out and are sold off to two different pony owners. They will only see each other again if they are at the same race in the future. It seems they were taken just for the auction by a guy who doesn't race ponies, just acquires and sells them. One fetches $200 and the other gets a larger $450. They are dragged off stage in opposite directions screaming for each other, they ended up having to be gagged by the auction staff. The redhead won his race but is aged fifteen now and his owner thinks he's too old to keep winning and wants to get rid of him and make room in his stables. He sells for $175. There are no rules about what you do with your ponies or what you purchase at auction. I think we'll see the brown-haired boys running soon, as for the blonde and the red head, who knows?

Back at the van I rebind him the same way: feet, toes, knees and toss him hogtied back into the cage. I toss an old blanket over the cage. Poor little guy is so tired out from running and having a good ol' time in the holding pen that he falls asleep about fifteen minutes into the trip to his new home. Not sure Pony David is going to like his new home, a dark small chilly cement horse stall in my basement. But that's his problem, not mine. Mine is getting him better trained and building his body and mind into that of a champion pony boy racer. This kid's gunna make me a lot of money.

Chapter Two
Breaking the New Pony

We arrived home about ninety minutes after dawn. That's not a problem as I just pulled my van into the oversize garage of my house. I live alone. My mother died giving birth to me and my father lost his battle with cancer around my nineteenth birthday. I got the house and a small inheritance provided that I went to college. I did, I graduated. But that's another story.

It was in college that I was introduced to the world of gay sex; I was a late bloomer I guess. I had sex with guys my own age, it was great, but I longed for someone, younger. I also was introduced to the world of horses. Real horses, the kind with manes and tails and four hooves. My dorm mate was really into riding. It kinda rubbed off on me I guess. When I returned home after graduation I drifted, surfed the web a lot while looking for my career. Which I got by the way – a good one. It was the 'net that led me into my hobby of racing pony boys.

Once in the garage and I had closed the overhead door and opened the van door and shook the cage to wake up my pony boy. He startled awake, it obviously took poor David a moment to realize where he was and what was happening. The gag still in his mouth was an immediate clue I would think.

First I had to untie him from his hogtie within the cage. I released his toes and his ankles, leaving his knees tied tight. The pulled him by his ankles out of the cage, out of the van and bodily onto the concrete floor. His body made a dull thud and he a small grunt as his back hit the hard smooth surface. I lifted him to his barefeet by placing my hands under his arms and heaving him up. This was the first time I really had a good opportunity to feel the smoothness and the warmth of his lithe body. Nice. I grabbed hold of the collar around his neck and directed him to the basement door. Very convenient design, the basement door was located in the garage.

A little while back I closed off all the windows in the basement so there was no natural light and no glimmer of escape for my pony. I had had a couple boys in the basement before, but I didn't own them. A couple friends lent me there ponies for a few days, a week or so, so I could teach myself how to properly handle a boy. Both of those ponies had been broken, David wasn't, not yet. David is my first real ponyboy to be all mine.

In the basement is a stable set up just like the real thing. Hell it is the real thing. But there are also several other optional extras installed. David is now a ponyboy. A pony first but also a boy as well. I have a spanking and fucking bench where he can be bent over and secured wrists and ankles, it has a chest support so he can stay there for hours or even overnight. David is an investment; he's got to earn his keep so to speak. I need to keep him in shape for racing after all don't I?

I pushed and guided my pony down the thick wooden staircase into the dark basement that would be his home. The rough wood was chosen for a reason. Under his bare soles it was uncomfortable; I know I've tested it on my own feet. Since I was wearing shoes I really didn't care what it felt like to him.

David was softly sobbing and I could feel him tremble as he entered the darkness. Reality was again setting in on him after he'd fully woken up after his short nap in the van ride home.

Slowly we descended the stairs, David in front of me. He was pushed farther into the chilly darkness of my old house's cellar. As he stepped off the last step and onto the flagstone floor his feet instantly felt the coldness of the cellar. I don't believe in spoiling a slave. The lower level is kept at a temperature of about sixty-two degrees [16½°C]. He'd get use to it. Plus if he's good he'll get a horse blanket for sleeping in his stall. If he's bad he'll learn all about a special way I have to keep him warm, but more on that a little later on.

At the bottom I flipped on the light. The whole of the cellar came into view for the first time to David's eyes. To say he was shocked would be accurate. He let out a high pitched squeal. The sound only a young teen boy can make. That reminds me I still don't know just how old my new pony boy is. He doesn't have any pubic or underarm hair so he's just entering puberty or isn't quite there yet. I can find out later after I ungag him, but that won't be for a while.

At this point he became unruly and tried to bolt and bucked about a little. Seeing what was in store for him. He is a strong boy. He actually broke my hold on him, but in his confusion and terror he ran the wrong way, away from the stairs and deeper into the stalls. He obviously kept himself fit and since he was playing soccer on the beach when I discovered him I assume he plays that sport, but he might also keep active in other sports too. I'd introduce him to some new sports, that's for sure.

I quickly regained control of my boy by grabbing his hair and taking a large handful tightly in my hand. I looked him directly in the eyes and grabbed a handy ridding crop from a nearby shelf. It was time to explain a few things to him.

"David, if you ever try anything like that again, I seriously make you regret it. There are ways I can make you hurt that you never imagined. Ways for me to torture you beyond what you know. Behave and you'll be treated decently. Be bad and life will be hell. And if you behave too badly I'll put you up for auction and you'll end up being sold off like that little blond boy from last night. Goodness only knows what's he's goin' through right now, but I can assure you he ain't liking it! Got that, ponyboy?"

He didn't react with a nod or a sound. But he stopped trying to fight me. If it was because of what I'd just said or because I was painfully pulling on his silky black hair, or both; I can't be sure. But the desired effect was the same. A more compliant boy.

With my riding crop I thought it was time I took at the thing hanging between the boy's legs. Riding crops are so neat, aren't they? You can inflict a great deal of pain with them or use them delicately to inspect. To lift a cock or a chin, push on a cheek to make the boy turn its head to the side. All while maintaining distance from the subject. And the boy knows that if he's unruly while being softly probed with the crop it can instantly be turned into an instrument of punishment and pain.

I probe his soft small, and might I add hairless ball sack. David once again moaned and winced. I guess he thought I was going to smash the crop into them causing him great pain. I again took hold of his hair, but not as hard this time. I bounced his little boy balls some; he felt some discomfort but not real pain. I pushed them from side to side; let them swing as much as they could. With the cool air however there was considerable shrinkage and the outer ball sack had tightened up quite a bit. Time to turn my attention to his cock.

He has a nice cock, not big, he certainly was due to enter puberty and have a cock growth spurt. This was the cock of someone younger than he was that's for sure. But it's cut, and very cute. I bounced it up and down on the tip of the crop for a few minutes. He didn't like that one bit. Oh well he's got to get used to things he doesn't like.

Time to get the boy ready for his next ordeal. I removed the red leather collar that was currently around his neck and replaced it with a steel one that screwed shut with an allen wrench then a lock clicked on made sure that no wrench could open it again until the lock came off. Of course the metal was cold and David winced and took a sharp breath of air as the cold steel hit his warm boy skin. I noticed earlier that he was rather darkly tanned, and tanned all over. But up close I noticed he had no tan lines.

"You've been a bad boy, haven't you, David?" I asked him The look on his face instantly became a combination of fear and questioning. He had no clue what I was talking about and thought more punishment and pain was about to rain down on him. "You've been tanning in the nude haven't you, pony?" I asked a bit of an evil smirk on my face. For the first time since he entered my cellar I got a response. My ponyboy nodded just up and down and very small, but he answered me. "Well it looks very good on you. I hate that you're gunna lose your sun-kissed skin, but you won't be seeing the sun much anymore. Your beautiful tan is just gunna fade away I'm afraid."

Once he was collared I locked a heavy chain onto his collar and back to a securing point embedded into the wall. This would let him sit and lie down, but not get out of his stall. I also added a set of metal shackles to his ankles connected by chain. My newly acquired, but not yet broken pony was secure. I untied his knees for the first time since the auction ended. I'd been up all night, I was beat, I need a little power nap.

"Sit, Pony." I ordered. He did with his legs crossed. He did it awkwardly since his hands were secured behind his back. "Here, you read this after I'm gone then get some rest. When I get back we begin the process of breaking and training you." And I tossed a laminated sheet on the straw in front of him and made sure it was the right direction for him to read.

It was a basic set of rules for him to obey and what some of the items in the room with him are.

Then I went back upstairs and left the light on so he could read, this would be the first and last time he'd be alone in the basement and not be in total darkness. At the top of the steps I looked back at the small boy locked to the wall down there. He began to shiver from the chilly air. I closed and locked the door and went into the house. I needed a power nap then some coffee and then it would be time to have some fun.

Let me tell you a little about what's in the cellar for training my ponyboy: Off in one corner is my special punishment. My teenage years as a restaurant worker introduced me to a large box called a proofer. It's use for dough, bread or stuff like that to make it rise. It's a large enclosed and insulated and gets hot inside. About a hundred degrees [37°C] or so. I built one, but mine can go up to a hundred and twenty [50°C]. I've had boys in there before for disobeying me. I can increase or decrease the temperature manually or let it swing randomly. There are several points inside for securing a boy standing, sitting or suspended. The floor is lined with straw and even room for a bucket where I can add in extras. Extras like some real horse manure or the boy's own functions from when he's mucked out his own stall. Let me tell you add a little heat to that and, phew, the boy gets real cooperative real quick.

Another corner is where the cage is and one wall has a cabinet which contains the other elements of training a pony and keeping a boy in bondage. David's living area is a stall lined on both sides by a concrete half wall; the floor is hard stone with a light covering of straw about a bucket with some dry food.

There is also a French drain in the floor at the entrance of his stall to collect his, well his piss. David is a pony now and he'll be relieving himself like a pony, right in his stall into the straw. But he's also a boy, a slaveboy, so he'll have to muck it out himself.

Near the cage is a treadmill. One that had been modified so the pony can be secured to it either by his wrists or by his collar. The controls have also been set-up so that I can control the speed with a remote control, it can go quite fast or very, very slow so I can have him walking on it for hours and hours. Great for endurance and strength training, but for track racing I have another set up.

Attached to the ceiling is a tack with a rolling pulley hook on it. The whole pulley assembly is motorized. The flooring underneath is dirt and straw instead of the flagstone. Just like he'll be racing on in the near future. The track goes in an oval pattern so I can attach the boy's hands over head or his collar to the hook and force him to walk the pattern over and over. This is good training for the boy as it gets him used to walking and running on dirt and straw.

There are a couple other items and devices there, but that's for later. Can't tell you or my pony all my secrets, can I?

I'd been napping for about ninety minutes and had finished my coffee, it was now about lunch time in the outside world. David in the sealed off cellar had no clue what time it was, he hadn't seen the sun since yesterday. Since he hadn't eaten but what little they feed the boys at the race I'm sure he was hungry. Too bad for him. The first day the boy gets no food. He was gagged and that wasn't coming out. Plus I don't want him getting sick from his fear and a full tummy and up-chuck in my straw. I wanted to take a rest since I wanted to be fully awake and alert for this next step in training my boy.

David was leaning his back and head against the wall sleeping; I kick the bottom of his foot to wake him up. How boys can sleep with their hands behind their back and gagged I'll never knew. But they do it. I guess if they're tired enough.

"Time to begin your training, little pony." I said.

He course had no clue what that meant.

"Stand." I ordered.

He struggled to regain his feet. The rules I had him read musta sunk in. Rule one obey every command instantly.

I unlocked the chain from his collar.

"Do you know what the first thing you do with a new and usually wild pony is?" I asked.

He shook his head no.

"Wild ponies have to be broken!"

I took him over into the other stall and introduced him to the fucking bench.

"Bend over that." I ordered.

He hesitated.

I picked up the riding crop again, before I could bring it down onto his backside he was wiggling himself into place. But it was too late to avoid punishment. I laid three quick and hard strokes across both cheeks. He screamed into his gag and fell off the bench onto the floor.

"Get up!" I shouted.

This time no hesitation.

"Get back over the bench, now!"

Again no hesitation.

First I released his ankles and secured them into the attached metal restrained on the bench. His legs where now spread nice and wide. His toes off the floor, the soles of his cute little bare feet completely exposed. Then I released his hands and secured them to the front of the bench. He was now in the shaped of a bent over X. A little platform supported his chest and his round little ass was sticking right up in the air at the right height for the next step in breaking him. The three crop strikes have left nice welts across his tan ass.

"Ever been fucked, ponyboy?" I asked.

That he understood immediately and started screaming into his gag, shaking his head from side to side and pulling wildly against the metal shackles holding him on the bench and in the perfect position for a long and slow fucking.

I took my time. I lubed up the boy's crack well. I rubbed and played with his rosebud. Then with a well lubed finger I pushed. Slowly, unrelentingly into his ass. It took me a full minute or more just to get the length of my fingernail into him. I wanted him to feel every moment. Then up to the knuckle another five minutes, the full finger took ten minutes. Then I slowly withdrew it and then reinserted it, not as slowly but not quickly either.

I finger fucked him with a single finger for a good fifteen minutes adding more and more lube. Then I added a second finger the same way. Another twenty minutes of double finger fuck. Then it was time for a third. More lube. Slowly I inserted all three for the first time. David screamed again at the larger mass entering him and the pain it was causing. This was fun! After another twenty five minutes of three finger fucking I withdrew and lubed it up even more and then lubed my cock up. It had been hard and drooling since I inserted that first quarter inch of my finger. I lined my cock up with his waiting and well massaged asshole and pushed.

I pushed and pushed and in it popped. The boy, as boy's do, went rock rigid and screamed again into his gag. Then he tried getting away from the invading cock up his ass. I swear the boy was gunna dislocate a shoulder the way he was straining against the bondage. I didn't stop though. I just kept pushing and pushing until my cock was completely buried in my ponyboy. My pubes were dusting his ass cheeks. I waited. Feeling the warm wet tightness of my teen pony boy's ass was simply wonderful and worth waiting for. I wiggled from side to side and tried to push even deeper into his bowels. I'm sure to him it felt like he was being split open and my cock was in as far as his throat. I'm not huge, but to a virgin asshole on a young teen I must have felt like a monster was raping and ripping him apart.

Then after several minutes of enjoying my own wiggling and his struggling against the invader I began to withdraw slowly. That was almost as sweet a feeling as my cock reentered the cool air of the basement. Then I pushed back into him.

"It official now pony, you've been fucked. Congratulations, you're no longer a virgin! And guess what, it's gunna continue!"

I pushed back into him. He didn't scream as loud this time.

I managed to last a good twenty minutes before I shot my cum deep into him. He certainly wasn't expecting that feeling and screamed again. I guess he thought he had ruptured inside. After I came down from my orgasm high I slowly withdrew from my boy.

Due to my size and my pre-work on his ass there wasn't any blood on my cock. The boy had done very well. I reassured him that he was okay – as he was crying now.

Standing in front him again, after I got redressed, of course. I told him a few other things before I left him again.

"You're gunna stay on the bench for a while now."

It was padded.

"You'll be fine here."

He made a noise into the gag.

"No, no, the gag stays in for now. One other thing you need to know. I'm changing your name. David was your old human name. You're a ponyboy, a slave now, your name is now Indiana. If you use David or answer to it if I call you David you will be severely punished. Do you understand?"

He nodded yes.

"Good boy. You were the best fuck I've ever had, for that you'll be rewarded for doing well."

I tossed an itchy wool horse blanket over him. "That will help. Well get some sleep, Indiana."

I left him, in his position he couldn't see me as I left the room, he was facing the cold stone wall pointing away from the stair. I turned off the lights and went back upstairs.

I decided that except for feedings and watering the gag would stay in him for a least a week, more if he misbehaved. But he doesn't need to know that.

Once the door was closed and locked tight my ponyboy, Indiana was in total darkness and total silence. The only noises were his breathing, his moaning and the dripping of my cum from his ass onto the stone floor.

Chapter Three
Feeding and Watering the Livestock

It was now late Saturday night just over twenty four hours since I took him from the outside world and made him my pony boy racer. I'm sure he was hungry. Off to the kitchen I go, I'd eaten my dinner hours ago. He certainly wouldn't be getting normal human food, but he was in reality a teenage boy so he needed more than straw or hay to eat. Tonight's din din for him would be a bowl of steel cut oatmeal, cold of course, with chopped raw apple mixed in and a bottle of vitamin water. Something to fill him up and keep him healthy. As he grew more accustomed to his new position in life and if he didn't misbehave, he would be rewarded with more appetizing foods and drinks. Of course the opposite was true too, the worse he did and misbehaved the more horrifying the food would get.

Downstairs the boy was still asleep and I could hear him gently breathing in place at the far end of the basement training center. I set the food and drink down in his stall and went to shake him awake.

I placed my hand on the long black hair of the pony's head and shook him awake. "Wake up Indiana, time for something to eat." I didn't want to tell him it was time for dinner as I wanted him clueless as to the time of day. He'd be racing at night after all, he needed to get readjusted.

He moaned into his gag, forgetting for a moment that it was in and that he was a captive. He tried to get up, only to be held in place by the metal shackles holding his wrists and ankles tight. Indian started screaming, most of the sounds held fast behind the penis gag filling his mouth. I pressed my other hand on his back and grabbed a fist full of hair.

"Indiana!" I shouted. "Calm down or you'll hurt yourself. And if you hurt yourself I'll hurt you even more as punishment. Stop it right now! Do you understand?" I demanded.

As the ponyboy regained total awareness he did clam down. Having recently renamed him I'm not sure that calling him Indiana instead of his old human name of David registered or not. But he was settled and that was my goal.

"Good boy, Indiana, good boy." I stroked his head softly. "Here's what's gunna happen right now. I am going to release you from this bench and then take you over to your stall, chain your collar to the wall, then ungag you. The gag is only coming out so you can eat. If you say one single word, I'll shove the gag back in and you'll go without eating or drinking until the next meal. And in case you haven't guessed I'm not room service, you get fed only when I decide to feed you. Nod once if you understand this."

He nodded, just once.

"Good boy."

I release his ankles but bend over as he was his toes still didn't touch the floor. I like that it's so cute to watch a boy struggle to reach his bare toes to the floor in vain. Trying to touch something solid, like it's something to hold on to. Doesn't work though, by design.

Next I undid his wrists and I slowly helped him get up. Being on the bench wasn't totally uncomfortable but I am sure the boy was stiff from being immobilized. He was a bit wobbly, but stood on his own two barefeet. The chill of the cold stone and cement floor shoot up through his bare soles into his body and the boy shivered and let out a little squeal at the sudden cold shock.

He looked and me with panic in his eyes. I knew he thought that he had broken the rule and now not only would the gag not be removed he wouldn't get to eat either.

I gave him no indication if he'd broken the rule or not, just led him over to his stall and locked the heavy chain to his collar with a large solid steel lock, an antique one with an old fashioned-style key. I like the psychological touch it adds. Okay, I'm evil I know.

I took another lock of the same design and grabbing his wrists I locked them together behind his back. He had a serious defeated look in his eyes. In his mind there would be no way he was going to get anything to eat.

I don't expect, nor do I want complete silence from my new pony, I just don't want him talking.

"Are you hungry, my little ponyboy?" I asked.

Immediately he perked up and his eyes brightened, but they also pleaded with me for mercy. He nodded he head vigorously and the only sound to be heard was the clanking of the chain he was attached to.

I gave no response. I just went over to a small cubby and pulled out a single bale of straw. Then I took out a pair of wire cutters I had in my pocket and snipped the bailing wires. The straw, now released from its bondage, opened up and a few strands fell away from the sides. I grabbed a large handful and tossed into the stall at my boy's feet. I repeated this procedure until the whole bale was spread out on the floor around the boy.

"Sit." I ordered.

It took him a few seconds to figure out how to sit with his arms locked behind him so he didn't fall, but he is smart and soon was sitting with his legs crossed. Indian style they called it when I was a kid, who knows what they call it today in our politically correct world.

He sat straight down in the only spot not covered by the straw. A bare patch left by his feet where he was standing. His ass and legs where now pressed against the cold stone flooring. "Move over so your ass is on the straw." I ordered.

He was doing nicely with remembering the rule to obey all orders first time and immediately.

I moved some straw over the small bare spot on the floor with my foot and then took the bowl of very cold oatmeal, quite disgusting if you ask me, and set it on the straw covered floor in front of his crossed tanned, long and sexy legs. Again he looked pleadingly into my eyes, just silently begging for food, any food, even this slop.

I grabbed him under his chin and held his gaze as I spoke. "Indiana, a whine or a whimper or a cry isn't speaking. Every horse whinnies. I just don't want to hear words out of you again until I give you specific permission. You didn't break any rule by whimpering back there so you get to eat. Here's a new thing for you to remember. Blink once for 'no', twice for 'yes' and three times for 'Thank you, Master'. Do you understand that?"

He blinked twice.

"Now I am going to take out the gag and you will bend over and eat your food, then I will water you."

He blinked three times and was noticeably much more at ease.

At first he tried to just bend at the waist, with this chest down over his legs and stick his nose in the bowl, but he couldn't get the right angle for that to work right, so he decided to shift himself and folded his legs under himself and leaned forward. The first time he mis-judged gravity and fell over onto his side, the quickly regained himself and tried again this time much more slowly. He leaned into his food and stuck out this adorable pink tongue and lapped up the cold gluey oatmeal from the bowl. I could tell he didn't like the taste much but then he got a piece of apple and seemed to enjoy that mouthful much more. I think he was just happy to be eating something. After about seven minutes he had slurped the last bit of goo from the bowl and sat back. He looked like a little kid at this first birthday party. He seemed to have oatmeal from ear to ear. He licked his lips and as much around his mouth as his tongue could reach. He seemed to have a very talented tongue; I'd make use of that very soon to be sure!

I wiped some of the oatmeal sticking to his face onto my finger and then inserted that finger into his mouth.

"Come on, there's more food here. Clean it off."

I felt his mouth tentatively work to suck my finger, his soft warm tongue cleaning the white pasty goo from my finger, the slight suction created as he swallowed it down. I was getting seriously hard. He was clueless and hating every moment of it. He had his eyes screwed shut.

After a few more swipes of my finger and several more minutes of sucking my finger like a pony suckling its mother's teat we finished up. I had been pushed over the edge by his attentions on my finger I unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock.

"Now pony, you can suck on this, just like you did your master's finger. Suck me good and then I'll give you some water."

He sat there silently, not moving.

"Now!" I screamed.

He cringed, but opened his mouth and sealed his eyes tight once more. I didn't care if he watched or not, just inserted my hard as rock cock into his warm waiting, if not willing mouth. To the hilt. He gagged and tried to pull back. I was ready and grabbed the back of his head and held him firmly in place.

"Work my cock with your tongue. Make me happy and I will let you breathe. Disappoint me and I'll let you pass out from oxygen starvation and I'll fuck your mouth while you're out."

He set to work.

Oh my he must have done this before. He licked the tip just under the glands with the back of his tongue as the tip played with the length and the underside of my member. Then he would move around and lick the sides, the top, and back under. He folded his tongue around and tickled the underside with the tip from root to tip and back again. He flicked his tongue against my cock like an expert whore. My cock grew larger and harder in his mouth.

All this in the course of a minute or less, he worked fast as furious knowing that life giving air was just a moment away if he pleased me, or the blackness of fainting if he didn't.

But he was pleasing me. But I held him in place anyway, with more of my cock into his throat.

"Swallow me, just like you do with food. That will make it easier 3;"

He tried but couldn't quite get the hang of it. He was gagging and fighting for air. He strained under my hand trying to get away. Instinct was taking over. A few more seconds and I allowed him to move back. He gulped air, but my cock was still in his mouth. His eyes were watering. He coughed and wheezed. My hand was still in place. I pulled him pack toward me and again my cock was plunged down his throat. Knowing what to expect he did much better and set to work quickly.

This time I allowed him air sooner, but only a moment and then again sank my cock into his wet and warm orifice.

"Indiana, I am going to let go of your head now, but you need to keep sucking me. You're doing very well, but keep going, in and out, up and down. Keep your tongue moving too. Make me cum and when I cum you'll swallow every drop."

He listened and he obeyed.

After about five more minutes of his strangely expert suck job I shot my load of cream into his mouth. As I shot the first volley I again grabbed his head and sank my cock in deep. To my ponyboy it must have seemed that I was shooting right into his belly I was so deep.

I let him go as I came down from my teen boy induced sexual high. This was so much better then I though possible. "Indiana look at me." He did with tears streaming down his face from the shame of what he'd just done.

"Oh baby, you've got nothing to ashamed of, you did very, very good. You've made you're master very happy."

He sat there in a daze. He face was tear and oatmeal stained. He was so adorable, so vulnerable.

I walked over to him with the open vitamin water in hand. "Here ponyboy, drink this."

I placed the water to his mouth and he drank deeply, sucking the bottle like he sucked my cock. In what seemed like a moment it was empty. He blinked his eyes three times.

"Indiana, have you ever sucked a cock before?" I asked.

He just looked at me, tears welling up in his beautiful blue eyes again.

"Indiana, answer me 3;"

Another second of hesitation, then slowly one blink, then after another few seconds he blinked again. Yes, yes he'd sucked cock before. I knew it! I'd find out the details later on. But for now I'll just let it be.

He was defeated; he slumped over and began crying softly. I picked up the gag and placed it at his mouth. He slowly opened. He was broken. He was mine. I pulled it tight and locked it in place. I had him stand and unlocked the chain from the wall. I led him over to the treadmill and swung the collar and chain around his neck so that the chain hung in front of him now and locked it to the wall so it stretched out in front of him and over top the controls of the tread mill. He was still crying lightly.

The click of the lock to the wall actually made him jump a little, how cute. I punched a few buttons and the treadmill came to life. It was a very slow setting. Slow but long. It was set for three hours.

He started walking automatically. His head was still down.

"Indiana, this treadmill in on automatic. It will increase in speed at little at time for a time I have determined. You will keep walking till it stops. If you fall the belt will keep moving and you'll get hurt. Once it stops sometime from now you may sit down on the belt and wait for me to return. Oh, and by the way, that gag will be staying in for at least a week, so get used to it.

He looked at me pleadingly yet again; damn he was good at that look. And blinked once. No. I know he was asking, begging for that not to be true.

I decided to give him a little hope. "If you're a good ponyboy and do well in your training this week, I might let you race this weekend ungagged."

I turned and left again. The treadmill was chugging away under his barefeet. I didn't want him running in barefeet, not yet, not for that long a time. I had to build up his stamina first. But he had to stay active. At the top of the stairs I turned off the lights plunging him into utter darkness once more. I shut and locked the door and then went to bed, after all I've had a long day.

Chapter Four
Misbehavior and Consequences

Oh he got the slaps to the ass, across his face and I did make him jog at a good pace with heavy nipple clamps attached to his chest for an hour on the treadmill for something rather naughty he did.

Maybe he thought that if he acted up just enough I might think it was all too much effort and I'd just let him go him for being too much trouble. Maybe he thought if he continued to resist that he had not yet lost and could still cling to some hope that this would end well for him. Maybe he thought that the simple little punishments he received immediately for his misbehavior was all there was going to be.

He thought wrong, on all counts.

I was mentally keeping track of his misbehavior and when I had reached my limit I let him know it, and now he would pay a heavier price.

I told him that enough was enough and I wouldn't tolerate any more of his little games. Of course the gag was still in; it had been in constantly for days now. Except for quick drinks of water and a little food. With the gag keeping him more or less quiet he couldn't protest beyond an unintelligible growl or whine or scream.

Not that I would have shown him any mercy. Horses from time to time need to be shown who the boss is. He was about to learn his place. And if he didn't the punishment level would just increase until he finally admitted defeat and was broken. Or there was one other option.

First I took him and held him by the neck tightly enough that he thought I would choke him right then and there and just end his misery. I looked him right in the eye, told him what I had been seeing and that he had deserved a massive punishment for his actions over the past couple of days.

I tied his hands in front of his body with a considerable amount of rope and cinched it tight in between his wrists. This was the only bondage he was in except for his ever present gag and collar.

Then I had him kneel on the hard cement floor and lowered before his eyes a hook attached to a cable threaded to a pulley attached to an electric wench.

I securely wrapped the cable and hook around his bound wrists and started the wench up. I raised his hands up in front of him and then slowly over his head and stopped. He was still kneeling. I pulled out a medium size whip and laid into his chest. Paying special attention to his still sore nipples.

He twisted and turned and writhed with the pain of the whip, trying to avoid my next blow. I didn't really care where on his body the whip hit so I let him move and thrash about. Saved me the trouble of having to walk around the ponyboy to cover the front of his body well enough.

His tan skin soon turned pink and then bright red under the lash. A few good slaps to his cock and balls too. I then turned to his back and ass. Harder this time. Of course the ponyboy was in tears already from my treatment of his front.

His legs trashed and he tried to move away from the whip. I knew this would happen and it was what I was waiting for. I told him since he couldn't stay still for his punishment that I'd have to make it so he couldn't move away from me. I really don't think he heard me though.

I went over to the wench and turned it on again raising it even higher. Soon he stood up on his feet with his hands again in front of his chest, but his arms continued to rise, and just as it dawned on him that I wasn't going to stop his heels lifted off the floor and then the balls of his feet and finally his toes.

My ponyboy was hanging freely from the ceiling supported only by the ropes wrapped around his wrists.

I took some black duct tape and wrapped his ankles tightly and told him he was going to get fifty more lashes with the whip, but first I was going to spin him so I didn't have to walk around his miserable body.

I turned the helpless and suspended boy many times on the cable, then let go, he quickly unwound and I think he got dizzy with the speed of the return. But I had gone far enough and he over twisted and then stopped before twisting again the other way.

When he slowed down that first time is when I began to whip his body again. Whatever side of his body faced me was the side that got hit with the whip. No waiting in between hits, as fast as my arm could draw back and return was as fast as he got hit. Each blow landing on a slight different place on his twisting body.

The whip hit hard but not enough to damage him too much.

It would hit his tummy, his side, his back, his ass, then his side as he twisted back, his nipples and chest, his shoulder blades. I would raise and lower my aim; I rained blows on him from the top of his back to his bound ankles.

He soon lost his spinning momentum but he was twisting and jerking from the whip strikes and his own movements trying to avoid the rain of whip strikes. He was basically a pendulum of whipped flesh, breathing hard as he hung.

But I still had fifteen more strikes to give him to reach my promised fifty.

I turned him so his back was to me and took hold his bound ankles and bent his knees so his feet turned up toward me. I wrapped my hand and arm around his tapped up ankles and laid the last fifteen whip hits across the tender soles and toes of his bare feet.

Obvious from his reaction he never thought about pain applied to the bottoms of his supple feet or never thought about how much it actually hurt when done right.

The first hit doesn't shock the system right away, it simply sinks in and then stings like mad – and as more and more hits are given the pain grows. The pain lingers too, long after the hitting stops.

I lowered the wench just so his feet would touch the floor, not enough for him to rest flat footed comfortably, just so he had to balance his weight on the balls of his beaten feet or to put his full foot on the cement he'd have to stretch his arms tightly against the cable holding him up.

I knew at that moment he would have given just about anything to be let down and allowed to curl up in the corner away from me. That wasn't going to happen. I let him suffer between standing on tip toes or stretching his sore arms. He bounced between both positions over and over. I watched him suffer and listened to him moan for over twenty minutes.

I went over to my hot box and flipped the switch on and set the thermostat to 120 degrees [49°C]. I opened the door and threw in some rough straw and a few large jagged rocks and mixed them about with my foot.

Indiana was still suffering too much to pay attention to what I was doing. He did turn his tear stained face toward my direction but I don't really think it sunk in what I was doing.

I waited about ten minutes for the hot box to get to the right temperature then I lowered the boy to the cold floor and removed the cable from his wrists. I bent his arms at his elbows and wrapped more tape around his upper body securing his wrists to the center of his chest. His hands secured just below his chin. I wrapped several loops of duct tape around his body and arms. He was a tight little package. He offered me no resistance.

I then half carried and half dragged him over to the hot box, opened the door and pushed him gently inside.

I ordered him to sit and look up at me. He did as told clumsily and winced and whined as his tender ass, legs and feet hit the various rocks hidden within the straw.

I then opened the fly to my jeans and began to piss all over his curled up body. Again a new horror to him. He squirmed and wriggled and lowered his face so my piss wouldn't hit him in the eyes. I started at the top of his head and thoroughly wet his hair down then across and down his bound hands and chest, a little delay to wet his cock and balls well, then as my piss petered out I moved quickly down his legs and finished just below his bound ankles.

I squatted down next to him and raised his chin to look him in the eye. He was crying again.

"Indiana, this is for your bad behavior over the past couple days. I'm going to leave you alone to think about your actions and your future behavior. If you don't start shaping up as soon as I let you out of here then I will have to reconsider my keeping you as my pony."

I could see a little light of hope in his eyes at that statement, but I meant just the opposite of what he was hoping for.

I continued, "But I kidnapped you to make a profit. I was hoping that profit would be through your racing but if not well. It's not normally done with ponyboys and its kinda frowned on by our club, but we do have connections to hardcore slavers and if you don't behave from now on I'll just have to sell you to one of them. And who knows where you'll end up. You might end up in some country where they still use humans in medical experiments, or they'll cut you open and sell your body parts for transplant. Or you'll end up someplace overseas as a sex slave where every moment of everyday for you will be spent in pain and bondage performing the most outrageous sex acts and suffering the worse tortures without break until you're all used up and then they'll just get rid of you, for good."

That scared the shit out of him. I could see him visible shaking. He lost control of his bladder and added his own piss to mine already covering him.

I slammed the door shut plunging him into hot, wet and smelly darkness.

I think about an hour will do. He'll have no clue how long he was in there. I could tell him it was all night and he'd believe me.

About an eighty minutes later I opened the hot box door and a defeated face looked up at me. His face was tear stained, his eyes puffy and his piss wet hair was now also soaked with sweat and matted to his forehead. The smell of piss wet straw was intense. His body was glistening with his sweat. I would need to get some liquids into him now.

I dragged the stinking ponyboy out of the box. Straw and even a rock or two was sticking to his body and took him over to the small shower head installed just above a French drain. He was shivering, probably both from fear and the cool air of the basement surrounding his wet skin. After all I had no desire to keep him filthy. Dirt, sweat and piss can really ruin a complexion and I wanted him looking good for his first race, or in the eyes of a slaver. I haven't decided yet.

I turned the water on, not cold as to shock him, but warm. I soaped up a stiff nylon brush and began scrubbing him from the top of his head to his whipped toes.

"Indiana I am going to remove your gag and give you something to drink. If you say one word or make one sound I will put the gag back in, you won't get your drink and I'll toss you back in the box."

He was in shock, no blinks signaling me he understood, but I could see in his face he wasn't going to be a problem.

I took out the gag and poured a bottle of sport drink into him. Half way through his refreshment I put a couple vitamin pills and a strong sleeping pill in his mouth and told him to swallow. I poured the rest of the bottle into him. And then held the gag back to his face. He willingly opened his mouth and he was again silenced with a large rubber penis locked between his lips.

"Are you going to be a good pony for me now, Indiana?"

He broke protocol and nodded yes. I let it slide.

I took the boy back to a little bed. Left his ankles taped and added loops of tape to his knees securing them together but removed the tape from around his chest, took his still tied hands raised them over his wet hair and secured them to the metal headboard with chain.

"Get some sleep little pony." I caressed his check. "For me the punishment is now over, but I do expect it's meant something to you and taught you something too. When we restart your training after you rest I want no more behavior like before."

He gave no response but I think he understood.

I went back up the stairs turned off the lights and closed and locked the door.

I have decided that he will not race this week, he's not ready and I can't take the chance that he's not fully broken. But if he doesn't improve his behavior I will have no choice but to look into the option of selling him and finding a new ponyboy to replace him. I hope for his sake that he has taken the threat seriously and gets his mind right.

Chapter Five
Better Behaved

He was now trotting well on the treadmill; even gagged he was breathing normally and never seemed to miss a beat even as the speed automatically increased over the course of his running. I had him up to three hours continuous of running now.

He was never far from being out of bondage either. I didn't trust his turn around that much. Even on the treadmill he was chained to it in some way, usually by his neck. And his hands would be raised above him and cuffed to the motorized track that led him in circles for hours on end building the muscles in each leg. After the first few times of him circling I starting adding weights to his ankles, starting with two pounds [0.9 kg] each, he was now up to five pounds [2.3 kg] per foot, tomorrow he'd be wearing seven pounds [3.2 kg] on each ankle and walk for four interrupted hours get an hour break where I'd probably fuck him good, then another four hours.

I would on a daily basis also teach him his role as a sex slave. I would remove his gag and insert and fuck his mouth with a dildo. Each time going deeper into his mouth and throat. Instructing him on how to use his tongue and to keep his teeth out of the way. After several sessions I would increase the size of the dildo and repeat the process of getting it to slip into his throat. I got to the point I would leave it there until the point of him almost passing out. I did this to get him over his panic at not being able to breathe and to break his gag reflex. It took a while and many tries, but he managed to figure it out. And although he would cough and retch and gag, he never made any other sounds and not once spoke a singe word to me.

I think he has now broken. He was now a pony boy. Maybe I'd be keeping him after all.

On the second day after his time in the box I removed the use of his hands from him. I locked a thick leather set of bondage mitts around his wrists and covering his hands. These I told him would only come off once every two weeks so I could trim his nails. I could see the confusion in his face as to how he would eat and go to the bathroom without the use of his hands, but he said nothing.

He also wouldn't be spending another night on the little bed. He lived and slept in his stall on the floor, a light covering of straw his only cushion and if he did well during his daily training I would allow him to have a single blanket to keep away the chill.

He was now on more solid food, well thick oatmeal gruel actually. If I felt 'generous' toward him I would scrape all my leftovers from my daily meals into it and mix it all together.

And he was fed from a large flat metal pan. Since he had no use of his hands he had to eat simply with his mouth. Sticking his face right down into the pan and slurping it up as best he could. For fun from time to time I would tie his hands behind his back and make him eat that way. Not fun for him but fun for me to watch. He was a sight after eating but it led him farther into pony space. I was slowing imprinting into his teenage mind the fact that he was simply an animal.

Its simple, if you treat someone as inferior, as an animal, they come to believe they are inferior, an animal. Simple and effective for my purposes.