Recalcitrant Pony Boy 3: The Trainer

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There’s a new racing pony in Master Iain’s stable, and it’s up to Landon to turn him into a champion. But gaining Mink’s trust proves harder than he expects. Can Landon train his pony to the track, or will Mink’s past keep him from racing to his full potential? A new erotic story of a trainer and his pony, set in a fantasy world of toys, pony play, and a master/slave dynamic.

13,500 words

$2.99

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Excerpt:

We came up on his stall, and I folded my arms on top of the door to study him. He had dark hair and eyes and fair skin, and looked a little like Mistress Kitty’s Aidan without Aidan’s arrogance. There was still something odd about him. While the other ponies had been indifferent to their surroundings, as expensive and well-bred ponies tended to be, he watched everyone around him carefully. He returned my gaze as if measuring me, the same as I was doing to him.

“What’s his story?” I asked his handler, to buy time to assess him before conducting a physical examination. I liked this time before I got my hands on a pony, the anticipation of what I would find beneath all that smooth skin and firm muscle.

The handler had the care of several ponies on this row, and didn’t seem to be much interested in this one. “You can see his times,” he said, indicating the sheet of paper posted outside his stall: all the same information as the catalog. “You won’t find one faster.”

“Why the poor record?”

“He’s just young and inexperienced. They’re all like that at first.” Untrue, but I let it slide. “He just needs a bit of seasoning.”

But he sounded bored, his eyes on other buyers; that told me that this one’s track record wasn’t due to inexperience or nerves, but perhaps a sign of some deeper problem. I opened the stall door and went in. Master followed me, and this time deferred to me in examining him first.

He was much smaller than the first pony we’d seen. Perhaps a little shorter than Sol. His skin was lovely, though I saw fresh whip marks on his back, and fainter ones that looked old. It angered me to see the scarring—an experienced hand shouldn’t leave permanent marks. Someone had whipped this pony hard.

 

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