by SirJeff
 
 

There once was a lass
of considerable charm,
lusting to prance on a showpony farm.

Despite born upper class,
to be harnessed in leather,
bitted in rubber, topped with a feather.

Came her chance, not to pass
up the fetish charity auction,
to roleplay, be bid on as ponygirl attraction.

Chained and collared in brass,
displayed, bought for the day,
to a barn in the countryside spirited away.

Buyer turned boorish, crass,
yet imagine her alarm,
when she saw branding iron already too warm!

Brand burned on her ass
while she screamed it was wrong,
then rings in nipples, clit, septum and tongue.

In hours of dressage class,
ponygirl perfected art,
tail, mohawk, nipple reins, clips to a cart.

But all too soon, alas,
the cruel owner tired,
for ride in bed or cart, his favor expired.

Sad plow-pulling lass,
whip doing her harm,
her fate is forever on a real ponyfarm.

Copyright © 23 September 2002, by SirJeff. All rights reserved.
Do not repost nor repurpose without permission.