My Wooden Pony Ride

Yes, I have ridden the pony.

Some have asked that I relate my experience here, and at my husband's approval and request, I shall. I have ridden more than once, though not often. I shall relate my first experience, when we tried it for the first time, not knowing exactly what to expect.

We were sitting at dinner, and had been talking about work, politics, whatever... when Jason suggested, "I think we should try a wooden pony ride."

I knew what he was talking about. Anyone truly into a BDSM relationship does, but I had never applied the concept of riding the pony to myself. It struck me completely unexpectedly, and I stopped eating for a moment and just looked at him.

"Um.... really?"

"Yes," he responded casually. "It is something I have always been fascinated with, and I know you have thought about it as well. Jim has done it, Erin told me. I just think it is worth a try..."

I thought about this. New forms of bondage or pain always intrigue me, though they also scare me, not knowing exactly what to expect. I suppose that is one reason I try them - I have this perverse need to try new things to see what my limits are, what the sensations are like. This one made me nervous though - my appetite left me as I considered it.

"Well. I suppose they would be rather expensive, and not easy to get a hold of. You weren't thinking of making one, were you?" Jason is handy with tools and likes to do some basic woodworking.

"No, see I read a little about it. A simple saw horse will do. I have one already, it could be made ready very easily."

"Oh..." I realized I had been hoping that it could be postponed. "Well. I guess so. Do you really want me to?"

"Yes." He sounded decided. Definitive. "I have thought about it, and think it would be a great experiment for both of us. It turns me on, the thought of you slowly suffering on the pony. The whole idea of reenacting the tortures of the past is kind of intriguing as well."

The tortures of the past. This was an inquisition torture, though historically it had been around a lot longer in various forms. The nerves in my stomach were pronounced. I knew now that it would happen, it had been decided. Something new to look forward too... something new to fear.

It was scheduled for Saturday. 8pm. I had suggested we start slow, with a 20 minute session. He had suggested three hours. We negotiated, and compromised on three hours. (He is my master, after all).

Part of the sweetness of this kind of situation is the anticipation. Rituals, scheduling punishments, examination and preparation, all create a sort of suspense and heighten fear. This is especially accute when the experience is to be new, and the pain unknown. That week, during the day and at work, I was fine. But in the evening, the looming image of the scene scheduled for Saturday began to work on my nerves.

I found myself going out to the garage, to look at the saw horse. It was so innocuous. It was just a piece of wood with some legs. He had two of them, stacked in the corner. Running my fingers over the wood 2x4, I realized that it wasn't pointed. It was flat on the top. I wondered if this would make the ride more bearable.

I pressed my hand down on the top, trying to imagine this hard, narrow seat driving its way into my pussy. It was impossible, I could not imagine what it would feel like. Hopes began to swirl in my mind that it would not be too bad. But then I would be reminded... this was an ancient torture, used because it was effective. It was going to hurt, I knew that. It was designed to.

Friday night. Jason and I were going out to a dinner near the beach, and we got dressed up nicely. One day left, and I stood before the mirror in our bathroom and looked at my naked body. I played idly with the jeweled collar on my neck, and assessed my body. I was thin, not extremely so but at or slightly below my ideal weight. I worked hard to keep my body looking good. Spreading my legs slightly, I surveyed my pussy, the slight protrusion of my mound, the softer flesh between my legs. I felt where my bones were, placed them all and wondered how they would be pressed upon during the ride. My weight was low enough I would at least be spared the pain of a heavier frame pressing down on my groin and pussy flesh. Still, I weight over 100 lbs, and it was all going to be pressing in that one small spot.

Saturday was surreal. I awoke with butterflies in my stomach. Nervousness, fear, anticipation, like the day of a big test, or going in for an operation. I tried to spend it as normally as possible, serving Jason, doing laundry, even going out with Sue from across the street for lunch. Behaving normally was difficult. I kept getting rushes, alternating between shuddering anxiety, and a rush of arousal.

I screwed up the laundry, using the wrong amount of bleach. One of Jason's shirts ended up with stripes of white on it. For this error he took spanked me, not unkindly, but enough to sting. When it was over but I was still spread with my ass on his lap, he caressed me between my legs, his fingers gently exploring my wetness, and sliding into my vagina slightly. I knew he was thinking about what would be happening down there in just another couple of hours. So was I.

As the hour approached, I found that I could no longer pretend to be normal. I watched some TV, sitting on the couch as the sting of the spanking faded. I can't recall a thing that was on, I was thinking of nothing but the saw horse in the garage.

At 7:30 it began.

Jason rose, and went into the garage. I knew that he was preparing things. I sat on the couch and whimpered to myself, feeling my pussy every few seconds, amazed that I was wet and engorged even when I was afraid.

At 7:45 Jason returned, and ordered me to strip. I removed my clothes, my top, jeans, bra, panties, everything. He stood for a moment and approved of my body. He does this frequently, especially when he is about to apply punishment. His approval made me flush, and I bowed my head to hide my pleasure.

My wrists were pulled behind my back, and tied together with cotton bondage rope.

He led me to the garage. The center had been cleared, and a saw horse was in the center of the clearing. It was almost exactly as I had seen before, except for a couple of small eyelets he had screwed in to the wood.

My heart was beating wildly and I was shaking slightly as I positioned myself next to the pony and waited for his instructions. Jason came over and helped me swing one leg over the pony, so that I was standing over the central 2x4 beam. I could feel the wood slightly brushing the protruding flesh of my labia.

Jason knelt below the pony. He tied each ankle with a rope, and then loosely threaded the rope to a metal eyelet that he had screwed into the wood on each side of the pony, behind where I was sitting. I wasn't sitting on it yet, not riding, but I could feel the solid feeling of the pony below me. I gratefully noticed he had sanded the wood to prevent splinters, something I would never have thought of. Nevertheless, the beam retained its sharp corners, which I now clearly felt.

My tied wrists were attached to another rope, which extended to an eyelet on the pony behind me. It lifted my wrists slightly away from my back.

There was a large wall clock on the garage wall, which I could see clearly. It said 7:55. I stood over the pony, knowing my ride would begin at any moment. I shivered a little, the garage was cool and I was naked.

"Thank you for sanding the wood," I said simply. My voice sounded shaky.

"You are welcome. I think you will be in enough discomfort." Jason smiled and kissed me. I kissed back, remembering that I was doing this for him, as well as myself. I felt more confident. I needed to remember I was going to suffer for him, it was part of my purpose, my role.

At 8:oopm exactly, Jason pulled my feet out from under me. With a smooth pull, he lifted my feet backwards, so my knees bent and my legs pointed toward the back of the pony. He tied me right ankle up to the side of the pony, and then did the same to the left. No longer able to stand, I sat down hard on the narrow strip of wood.

My ride had begun.

The first sensations were unremarkable. I was immediately calmed, I felt better than I had in hours. It was uncomfortable, yes... but not terribly painful. The edges of the wood dug into soft flesh a little. The pain was endurable.

The angle of my legs, pulled back as they were under the pony, had thrust my weight forward just a bit. I was sitting with more of my weight on my pubic bone than I had anticipated. I shifted back, moving my weight to my perineum. This helped a little. The softer flesh with less bone underneath took the weight a little better, and I settled in for a long ride.

Jason had been checking my ties, positioning and the like, making sure all was well. The clock read 8:05, and he left the garage for a moment. I sat on the pony alone, wondering if he intended to leave me here to suffer alone. It was his choice, but I was a little surprised.

I need not have worried. He returned after a few minutes with a chair, a beer and a few other items. He was settling in for the ride as well. The chair was placed directly in front of me, about 10 feet away, so he could observe. He sat down and took a drink of his beer.

My softer perineum flesh was becoming numb, with a dull ache. I pushed down on my legs, using the ankles where they were tied to the pony to help lift me. It helped a little but my legs were at such an odd angle, it was hard to stay up for long at all; it tended to push me forward more than up. When I relaxed and came back down my pubic bone pressed against the thin wood beam once again, this time more painfully. I must have made a noise, because Jason commented, "it must be beginning to hurt a little, I image. How are you doing?"

"I'm OK. It hurts some, it is hard to find a comfortable position. But it is bearable."

He took another swig of beer as I leaned back again, trying to take the weight off my pubic bone. The aching pain shifted with my weight to my vagina, then back to my perineum once again.

Jason laughed, "This is great. It almost looks like you are trying to hump the thing." He grinned at my discomfort and movements trying to find the best way to ride.

The clock said 8:10. Time was not passing quickly. I knew Jason had placed the clock there, where I could see it, as part of the torture. I could look and see the seconds tick by, and it would make the mental agony more severe. In fact, there was very little to see there except for Jason and the clock.

I pushed up on my legs again, trying to lift some of the weight off my groin. I succeeded but my muscles gave out after about 60 seconds. With my legs bent back and tied up to the pony it was too awkward a position to keep up for long. I was only able to get my pussy about a half inch off the pony but that was enough to provide some relief if even for a moment. I settled back down and rotated my hips forward, so that the pressure would concentrate more in my ass. At the same time I started to tip to the side and quickly regained my balance. My ankles secured to the side of the pony allowed me to keep myself upright, but it took a little effort.

Jason saw that I was struggling to stay upright. There was nothing too keep my upright, really, except for my own efforts and they were hampered by having my hands secured behind me. My legs were tied securely on either side of the pony, which allowed me to balance, but it was a constant struggle, my legs constantly twitching and pushing to keep upright. I think that Jason enjoyed this part of the show. Not only was I slowly moving my weight back and forth to displace the pressure between my legs, my legs were straining to lift myself and to keep my body from tipping over.

It was dawning on me that there were aspects to this torture that I had never envisioned. Depending on the position and the restraints, I was forced to shift, wriggle, strain and pull myself in various directions. By spending more and more effort to simply stay upright, my legs were losing the strength to lift me and relieve the pressure on my pussy.

The clock read 8:15. I had been riding for 15 minutes. The pain wasn't bad, but it was getting very persistent. I noticed that there were so many more aspects to the discomfort than I had ever imagined. It wasn't just the pressure against my flesh, it was the constant strain to stay upright, the constant strain to lift myself to relieve the pressure, the pain in my legs from the muscles constantly working, the shifting of the discomfort from one part of my crotch to the other...

I had some control within a 4 or 5 inch area; I could move the center of the pressure, but it was becoming clear this tactic was false relief. I was beginning to shift faster, moving forward, feeling the discomfort of my bone smashing my clit against the wood, then back, and feeling my ass/hip bones pressing my perineum and ass against the outside of the pony.

To my horror, I discovered that the wood, which was perhaps an inch and a half wide, was spreading my pussy lips wide, and driving deeper into my cunt. When I shifted back, my ass cheeks spread wide, and the thin board felt like it was trying to spread my anus as well.The firm unrelenting pressure was slowly wedging my body wider apart.

A gasp escaped my lips as I shifted forward again, and the pony spread my labia wide and pinched the lips against my legs, a new kind of discomfort resulting from the increasing penetration of my vaginal area.

It was beginning to throb now, pulsing and modulating. I think it was actually beginning to really hurt. It took on a sort of fire to it, not hot, but burning nonetheless. I leaned forward as far as I could, accepting the crunching pain of my pubic bone pressing my clit and flesh, smashing them and deforming them. I grunted, and moaned, a long, low moan of pain. But I had to stay there, accept the pain of that position in order to give my vagina and labia rest from the pinching and stretching.

Leaning forward like that, further and further each time, stretched my arms behind my back. My wrists were tied to the back of the pony. I was prevented from laying down, and moving too far forward simply stretched my arms out in back.

I remember thinking about this time, that this experiment was rapidly turning into a remarkable experience. The nuances of the pain were beginning and were unusual, the way it morphed and moved with me, how I could avoid one pain simply to invoke another... and each new pain was worse, was more, but if I shifted back to the lesser pain it would revitalize as a new level of agony...

The pain, which had begun in earnest now, was somewhat under my control. But the really evil, insidious part of this torture was how I had control over where it went. I could lean forward or backward, I could try shifting slightly left and right. Each shift gave relief to one area but resulting in discomfort in another.

Riding the pony was truly an ordeal of endurance.

The clock said 8:45.

It was hurting. Really hurting now. I realized I had not paid attention to Jason for some time, I had been concentrating on techniques to help shift and spread the pressure and discomfort. Now I sat, simply enduring the pain in my cunt, the board jammed between my labia, spreading them apart and hurting. I looked at Jason.

He had his pants down and his cock out. His hand idly slid up and down as he masturbated. Precum had lubricated his shaft, and his hand slid easily up and down. He looked really large and hard.

I rocked back a bit and felt the blood flood back into my clit. It made the pain worse there. I grunted a little and moaned, as Jason stroked his cock, enjoying my discomfort.

This went on for some time, until the clock said 9:00. I had been riding an hour, and Jason was still stroking his cock. I was in real pain now, with the sharp corners of the wood digging in, tearing my sensitive flesh slightly. I couldn't see, but I wondered if I might be bleeding. The pain had swathed the entire area of my hips.

My legs could hardly lift me now, it was all I could do to stay upright. My breasts felt heavy in front of me, urging me to lay down, pulling me to rest by laying on the pony in front of me. It seemed almost possible until I moved forward and felt the ropes which held my wrists pull taught. Damn.

Jason rose, and examined my pussy. "You aren't bleeding. I can see some bruising though. It must be pretty painful."

"Fuck," was all I could say.

"Can I help you a bit? Perhaps you would like me to stimulate you a bit?" Jason reached down, and as I leaned back slightly, his finger pressed under my pussy and found my clit. He moved it slowly in a circular motion which flooded my body and mind in new sensations.

"Yes... please... that is good."

I couldn't help it. I was a pain slut, I knew it. I was his pain slut, and I wanted to cum on that pony. He continued for a while. As my excitement grew, my hip movements began to thrust ever so slightly, my nipples hard. I was getting close to orgasm.

And he stopped.

"Fuck! You asshole!" I was frustrated beyond belief, not only trapped on this horrible device but he stopped before I orgasmed.

"That language is unbecoming someone in your... position," Jason said with a smile. "Perhaps we need some other way to help distract you during your ride."

He went over to his chair and picked something up. Nipple clamps. The kind with the pretty chain between them.

Standing next to me, he stroked my breasts, feeling their shape and lifting them slightly. Eventually, he concentrated on my nipples, which grew erect in spite of myself. He was in control of my body. As my left nipple was fully erect he took the first clamp and applied it.

"Ooowwww.... fuck, fuck, fuck... that fucking hurts..." I couldn't help it. I howled when the clamp closed on my sensitive flesh.

He stroked my right nipple to life in the same way. When it was ready for him, the clamp went on there, as well. I howled again.

Nipple clamps hurt like hell when they first go on, and then the pain slides into a numb ache. I have to admit, the clamps did actually distract me from the pain between my legs for a while. After he sat down, and started playing with his balls, it took a few minutes for me to concentrate on the pain between my legs once again.

The clock read 9:30.

Half way. It felt like it had been a lot longer. There is nothing, absolutely nothing to do while riding the pony except endure. I kept reminding myself that the pain was not as bad as other situations I had experienced. There had been a few canings that had hurt worse. There was a time when muscle cramps from a strappado had been agonizing.

The problem was, that riding the pony I knew that this pain was going to simply continue, constantly, for the next hour and a half. It was scheduled. It was to be endured, unceasing, unrelenting.

I realized after a bit that I was crying. Tears were rolling down my cheeks. I wasn't sobbing, I had not lost that much control, but the pain was wearing on me. My leg muscles burned, my groin ached all the way through my hips, my shoulders even hurt a little from my wrists being tied behind me. I wanted this to be over, and I didn't want to wait.

Slime was leaking from my nose. My tears had dried on my cheeks and breasts, but snot was descending over my lip and into my mouth. There was nothing I could do about it. Uncontrolled body fluid emmision is one of the things I had learned to accept in periods of prolonged bondage.

I leaned as far forward as I could. Screw my arms, they hurt from being pulled back, but I had to shift the weight on my groin. Try as I might, I could not get myself far enough down for my breasts to touch the pony. I stayed in that position for a while before pulling on my wrists to straighten myself.

Jason was stroking himself faster. His cock was convulsing a little. I watched as he watched me, his eyes on my painful position, my tears, moans, and he came. He jerked and thrust his hips, and I saw his white cum spurt out and all over his stomach. It kept coming, urged on by his hand which continued sliding up and down as he stared at me, grunting and moaning from the effort of his orgasm.

It had happened before, but it always struck me as the most humiliating and degrading thing - to be reduced to a pain toy, to be bound and subjected to agony. My pain was a stimulant to him, something which brought him pleasure, and he took advantage of it, revelled in it, and used it to bring himself orgasms. I felt like a piece of meat. Meat in pain.

It was 10:15 when he came the second time. His stomach was still sticky from the first time, and my snot and tears had pooled on the wood of the pony before me, dripping down the sides and onto the floor. I had asked him to release me at 10:00. He had kissed me, and returned to his chair, explaining he knew I could do it.

The pain wasn't terrible. It felt pretty bad at the time, there was a lot of numbness and aching, but it was not pure agony. It was simply... wearing. Constant. Pain. It hurt. I wanted it to stop. The clock ticking, the slow shifting of pressure from my ass to my pussy... I wanted it to stop.

I peed as some point. While I had made sure I had emptied my bladder before starting the ride, it had been well over 2 hours and I was losing control of my body functions from tiredness and strain. I remember realizing I was peeing when it happened. There had been no decision to release my bladder, it just happened. The urine soaked the wood and pooled below me on the concrete floor of the garage.

It was cool in the garage, but I had been sweating. Sweat can really be irritating in bondage, because it trickles - it can cause itching, or tickling. And of course, there is nothing to do about it. Except endure. The wetness on the concrete below me was a collection of sweat, urine, snot and tears.

At 10:45, Jason came over, stroking my hair and praising me. Urging me on. I felt braver at that point, knowing it was almost over. And kindly, Jason reached down and began fondling my clit again. This time, he kept the circular movement going, pushing, sliding, gently but consistently, until I cried out and shuddered from a full, mind blowing orgasm.

When the clock hit 11:00, Jason untied the ropes which held my ankles up. I yelped just a bit, because my legs had been cramping and the cramps were suddenly worse when I extended them. My feet hit the floor, and lifted me off the damn pony. There was no immediate relief. The pain was still with me, haunting and embedded inside my damaged groin and ass.

My wrists were untied, and I put my arms around Jason, allowing him to help me swing my leg over the pony and stand next to it. I was shaky, and had to be helped to his chair, where I sipped his beer. It tasted so damn good.

In all of this, I had completely forgotted my nipple clamps. They hurt, but then when your whole body hurts, what's a little nipple clamp? Until you take it off, of course. It was the worst single moment of the evening, the screaming pain when the clamps were removed. Fortunately, it only lasted a few moments.

I bled slightly from the ordeal, my flesh having been stretched and torn slightly from my shifting and wriggling in place. There was bruising, some of it deep. My cunt hurt for several days after, deep down inside as well as the outside.

Jason rewarded me for the pony ride with a set of gorgeous diamond stud earrings. I wear them proudly.

I have since ridden the pony several more times since then, experiments using different equipment and positions. It is never pleasant, frequently agonizing. And yes, I really would rather not ride. It hurts.