Pulling Pony


                                            >Early in the morning you awaken to a pair of big beautiful brown eyes staring up at you from the edge of your bed.

                                            >The moment your own eyes crack open, you're greeted with a soft huff and a nicker.

                                            >Should you remain still, you'll soon find the sensation of a warm, soft muzzle brushing against your hand.

                                            >If you still don't budge, it moves to your cheek, accompanied by a more insistent nudge and a louder nicker, maybe even along with the feeling of a warm, wet tongue sliding over your skin.

                                            >There's no fooling her.

                                            >Your pretty little pega-pet knows it's the weekend.

                                            >And she knows that she has you all to herself for the next two days.

                                            >She's not about to waste a moment of that time!

                                            >There's a light jingling of metal as she sits on her haunches from the ring on the underside of her red halter.

                                            >The glint of light off the brass as she moves causes you to squint your eyes shut again.

                                            >The same halter she's refused to take off since you bought her.

                                            >She doesn't want there to be any mistake or doubt for even a fraction of a moment for anyone that ever lays eyes on her.

                                            >She wears it proudly, a statement that says "I am no stray or rebel, I am owned. I know where my home is."

                                            >The mare gives a little grunt and headbumps your hand.

                                            >Stubborn Master, you promised weekends were for quality time with her. What's another 30 minutes of unconsciousness compared to all the wonderful activities you could be partaking in with your beloved pet?!

                                            >You chuckle at her insistence, slowly sitting up and giving a good stretch and yawn.

                                            >Her front end momentarily falls to the floor in a deep, reverent bow.

                                            >A simple "Good morning, Master!" would suffice.

                                            >But a pet's love and loyalty is demonstrated by her actions, not her words.

                                            >And a truly loyal pet needs no words.

                                            "Good girl. Up."

                                            >With that she rises, letting out a happy little squeal as she goes bounding out of the room and down the hall.

                                            >Master's awake! Master's awake! Finally!

                                            >As you dress yourself, you hear her rummaging through the closet.

                                            >From the sounds of it, she already has your day all planned out.

                                            >Before you can even finish pulling your socks on, she returns, dropping a red leather harness and bridle at your feet.

                                            >The harness is adorned with little bells that jingle softly with its wearer's every stride.

                                            >It's not exactly Christmas time any more, but this one seems to be her favorite anyway.

                                            >You shake your head with another soft chuckle

                                            "Alright girl, we'll go for a cart ride."

                                            >That sure gets her butt wiggling and her tail swishing!

                                            >She snaps them back up in her muzzle and lets herself outside.

                                            >An action that may cause alarm in other pet owners, but doesn't worry you for a second.

                                            >You know she isn't going anywhere.

                                            >When you catch back up with her, she's laying patiently by her cart out in the garage.

                                            >She rises to her hooves upon seeing you and that tail starts up again.

                                            >In her muzzle she's holding a long, supple driving whip that she places in your hand, followed up by another bow.

                                            >She sure is an eager one!

                                            >As you unlock your tack trunk and start brushing out her coat, she leans into you heavily, absolutely reveling in your every touch.

                                            >Doubly so when the harness is slipped on and she feels the leather straps tighten around her barrel, her belly, her rump.

                                            >Opening her mouth and happily taking the bit from your hand as you gently slip the bridle over her muzzle, staring at you in sheer adoration.

                                            >One last double check of the hitch and all her tack, and you take your seat in the cart behind her.

                                            >As the garage door opens, she starts to paw impatiently.

                                            >Her tail hiked ever so slightly.

                                            >Her body trembling.

                                            >Not in fear, but in anticipation.

                                            >She's no Earth pony, but she just loves to pull like one.

                                            >She nickers loudly as you take up the reins in your hand, raising the whip a couple feet above her rump in preparation.

                                            >And once the garage door is all the way open, bringing it down with a flick of your wrist, the soft "snap" that follows accompanied with a gentle, encouraging "yah girl, let's go!"

                                            >She knows very well what this signal means. It's time to go!

                                            >But she gets a mischievous little smile.

                                            >Instead of pulling, she looks away with a soft "hmph" of refusal and stands her ground.

                                            >It's fun to be a "bad girl" sometimes.

                                            "Hmm, naughty pet. Maybe you didn't hear me? It's time to go. Now come on, git up."

                                            >You urge her forward, putting your whole forearm into it this time to really get her attention.

                                            >Snap! Snap!

                                            >She grunts and shudders, tail hiking even higher for a moment before the cart starts rolling, the pegasus taking one slow step after another.

                                            >She keeps her head held high, doing her best to look aloof, as though walking was her idea and the whip had nothing to do with it.

                                            >So it's going to be one of those days, is it?

                                            >You smirk to yourself. These little moods of hers are always fun.

                                            >It had taken her quite some time to be bold enough to defy you, even in play.

                                            >But you just take it as another sign of just how comfortable she is with you. How much she trusts you.

                                            >You also know she could be walking at a much more brisk pace than this.

                                            "Come on girl, you know what I want. I said YAH!"

                                            >SNAP!

                                            >This one causes her back end to sink toward the ground in reflex as her skin ripples in response. That one really smarted.

                                            >With a huff, she takes off at a steady trot.

                                            >She carries her head low and level, a sign of submission.

                                            "That's it, that's my good girl."

                                            >She chews on the bit and nickers in response. For a fraction of a second, you see the faintest winking under her tail before she gets control over herself again.

                                            >She'd learned quickly that your neighbors don't take very kindly to the sight of her being whipped, so she saves her "defiance" for the wooded trails meandering through the local park where you'll have more privacy.

                                            >The moment you reach the park and are free from prying eyes, she gets a confident smirk, coming to a dead stop and holding her head up once more, closing her eyes with another soft "hmph!"

                                            "Who said you could stop? Naughty, naughty girl."

                                            >Snap! Snapsnap!

                                            >She twitches and prances in place, but still doesn't budge, pawing at the ground as she chews on the bit and looks back over her shoulder.

                                            >Her eyes lock on the whip held in your hand and she snorts softly. Not in fear, but frustration.

                                            >Along with a defiant glare that says "Come on. Are you my MASTER or not!?"

                                            "Suit yourself, girl."

                                            >The next snap of the whip is loud enough to send birds flying from a nearby tree. It's followed up with two more in quick succession, the pegasus prancing in place and flapping her wings, her whole hind end trembling for several seconds.

                                            >But it's now, too, that her tail shoots up and stays there, and you can already see the moisture beginning to slicken her rear lips, already beading and threatening to roll down the insides of her hind legs at any moment.

                                            >She still doesn't pull.

                                            >And a quick wiggle of her rump at you sends a clear signal. "More."

                                            "I said HYAH!" you bark loudly, raising the whip behind your head and bringing it forward.

                                            >A flurry of lashes laid across her rump finally gets her moving, the mare already working up a sweat when she hits her stride at a brisk trot, and then canter.

                                            >Her back arches and she throws her head up in a loud whinny when you throw in a couple more lashes for good measure once she obeys.

                                            >Those stripes on her butt are gonna sting for the rest of the day, no doubt.

                                            >Despite that, it's not the last time she "disobeys" you.

                                            >The crack of the whip echoes through the park several more times over the next half hour as you give your pet the workout she so desperately craves.

                                            >Not once does she protest.

                                            >Not once does she cower away from you.

                                            >She simply obeys her Master when it suits her, and obeys the lash when it doesn't.

                                            >By the end of her ride, she's dripping from head to hoof in a foamy lather of sweat.

                                            >Nostrils flaring, panting heavily.

                                            >Trembling now and then.

                                            >Not to mention winking furiously - sweat most certainly isn't the only thing slickening her backside.

                                            >She carries her head low and level for the ride home, occasionally looking back over her shoulder at you. Now entirely submissive and obedient, though she doesn't object to an occasional love tap to her rump on the way back.

                                            >And when she's finally back inside the garage and the door is closed, she moans into a hungry kiss that you forcefully steal from her.

                                            >You don't bother taking off the bridle or harness when you unhitch her, issuing a simple order.

                                            "Good girl. Now go wait in my bedroom and assume the position for your reward. I'll be along shortly."

                                            >Your neighbors have a pretty good idea what you do with her behind closed doors.

                                            >But there's no law against it, so who gives a rat's ass what they know?

                                            >All that matters is giving your pet the attention she's earned.

                                            >And it would be a shame to leave such a wet, eager little thing to her own devices, now wouldn't it?