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Chapter One
New Stock
There he was. I'd been watching him with a drooling cock most of the day. He'd kick around his soccer ball on the beach. Then strip off his soccer shorts to his Speedos underneath and swim some only to come out and sun himself dry and return to another round of barefoot soccer ball kicking. Sometimes he'd play soccer with a few others that happened to visit this stretch of Outer Banks beach but mostly he'd practice his moves by himself. He had some moves too; I'd have to be careful of those legs. He seemed to have great speed on his feet and his legs looked strong.
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
David had fattened my wallet with his racing through the night. Now it was time he fattened another thing of mine. My cock
3;
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.
TO BE CONTINUED
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