The Fillies of Three Ferns Farm Read online

  The Fillies of Three Ferns Farm

  A Ponyplay Collection

  Andrea Forsythe

  Copyright 2012 Andrea Forsythe

  Kindle Edition

  ***

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  Table of Contents

  The Tacking Up of Sweet Caroline

  Midpoint

  Madame Carnegie's Best Broodmare

  Midpoint

  Miss Sally's First Ponygirl

  Midpoint

  About the Author

  The Tacking Up of Sweet Caroline

  ***

  Amy blinked as she was turned out into a little paddock. The woman who waited for her smiled. She was a middle-aged but very attractive and fit woman with deeply tanned skin (no tan lines) and beautiful long, platinum blonde hair. She was also completely nude except for a rope halter, and she wore a long horse tail the exact same color as her hair.

  She was also naked.

  “So,” she asked casually. “What is your show name?”

  Amy looked down shyly, not wanting to be caught looking at the woman’s nakedness. The stranger was a mature woman, Amy estimated her to be around forty, but her small tits were so flawless and perky. Amy couldn’t stop herself from staring. “It's 'Sweet Caroline'.”

  “Oh wow! I like that!” she said enthusiastically. “And your barn name?”

  Amy resisted the urge to touch the rope halter she wore for the hundredth time. “Sweetie.”

  “My show name is All that Glitters, but you can call me ‘Goldie,’” she said with a giggle. “Show names have to be my third or fourth favorite thing about this whole thing. The puns are incredible!”

  Amy nodded. Her mind was still reeling from the morning. She waited for months for her first retreat at Three Ferns Farm, a privately owned haven for ponyplayers the world over. When she arrived at the greeting center, she had been gently asked to shed her clothing, given a simple rope halter, and transported the rest of the way to the barns in the back of a horse trailer along with six other human equines. Some of them were bewildered new arrivals like herself but others were clearly returning, and they looked excitedly out of the slits in the trailer for familiar sights and faces. The ponies and horses divided, newbies being led in one direction and the more experienced members being taken directly to the stables. “Have... you come to a retreat before?” Amy asked, trying to make conversation.

  “Oh lord yes, Dear. I'm a broodmare! Here at Three Ferns, the broodmares often act as unofficial den mothers and very official greeters. You've been paired with me for your orientation.”

  “Oh,” said Amy, who was very much in need of orientation. “So... how does this all... work?”

  Goldie smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “That's a bit of a big order all at once. Let's get specific about you first, then I can tell you more about what your personal experience might be like and we'll start from there. The main goal here is to accommodate everyone as best we can and make sure all our human ponies and horses are well taken care of. Do you remember filling out all those forms when you registered?” Amy nodded. “Good. Well those forms have been turned into a document called your 'papers'. They're just as important as a bio- that is a 'real'- horse's registration papers. They tell all about you: what breed you are, your show and barn name, what kind of play you enjoy, whether you will accept men or women trainers or both, and your safe word. Every single trainer, groomer, or potential owner who interacts with you will see your papers. You with me so far?”

  Amy nodded again, trying to remember all the answers she had given to the seemingly endless parade of questions she had answered as part of the registration process. “I think so,” she said slowly. “I put that I was a pony... a bay Fell pony.” She got a wistful look in her eye. “My uncle kept Fell ponies, and I always pretended I was one when I was a little girl.”

  Goldie grinned and started walking the perimeter of the paddock, continuing their conversation as they ambled along the fence line. “You'd be surprised how many of us got started that way. For some folks, the urge to play horsie just grows up when we do. I'm a quarter horse myself. A palomino.” She tossed her long platinum hair and Amy admired it openly.

  “You look like a palomino,” she said, impressed.

  “And I see the bay in you,” Goldie said gently. Oddly, this statement filled Amy with a warm glow. “What discipline did you put down?”

  “I wrote that I wanted to train in harness. I don't think I am big enough to really carry someone on my back, but I have really strong legs and...” she looked down shyly. “I like the harnesses.”

  Goldie smiled at the petite, dark haired woman. Amy was small, pear shaped and adorable. She did have an air of a draft pony about her. “I think you'll be very happy here. You'll find a trainer in no time, or an owner if you want. Let's see... what else is important? Talking is a big one. The custom at Three Ferns is to talk very little or not at all to the 'humans.' You can always use your safeword, of course, and some trainers and owners have their own way of doing things, but for the most part it's body language and horse sounds if you need to communicate. When it comes to talking to other equines, well... everyone has their own preference. When we do talk to each other we refer to it as 'Black Beauty-ing.'” Amy blinked, not quite getting the joke. “Oh, you know,” Goldie said, waving her hands as she explained. “It’s because of how in books like that the horses are always chatting to each other as soon as the humans are out of sight. Anyway, I'd say that most equines here 'Black Beauty' from time to time, especially after hours in the barn. The ones who don't like to will generally give you a clue by responding with only gestures or horse noises. Just be respectful of those folks and you'll do fine.”

  “Do we really sleep in the stables?” Amy asked, breathlessly.

  “Yep! You'll have your very own stall with your name on it. When you get your tack- and I'll get to that in a second- it'll hang on your stall door. The barns are heated if it gets too cold at night and there are some very basic amenities in the way of comfort and sanitation, but the Three Ferns goal really is as authentic an experience as h possible.”

  Amy repressed an excited thrill. It was so much to take in!“What about, you know... the sex parts?”

  “Well that goes back to the 'try to accommodate' everyone. If you think back you answered a lot of questions about what you'd like to do as a horse. For some people, pony play is non-sensual. Folks just... feel like they are horses inside and want a place to be horses. For other folks, myself included, sex is a big part of it.”

  “Me too,” Amy said, warming up as Goldie revealed a bit about herself. “I mean, I enjoy playing the part, but it excites me in that way, too.”

  “Then it's in your papers! The trainers and grooms who feel the same way will seek you out, trust me!”

  Amy tilted her head as they rounded a corner. “So, being a broodmare... does that mean...?”

  “You bet your boots it does!” Goldie said, brightly. “I love playing a horse, but I have a bad back from a car accident and I can't carry or pull. At first I just came out and did lunge work and that sort of thing, but then I found out about the broodmares. The first few retreats I went to the auction and got owners for each retreat, but now I have a permanent owner and every time she selects the stallion, and sometimes stallions, to breed with me. It's incredibly hot,” Goldie had a gleam in her eye. She was clearly anticipating this year’s 'breeding'! “Sometimes my owner does it herself like artificial insemination.”

  Amy was instantly horny. “Could I do that someday?”

  “Oh sure! Every horse can breed, after all. It's just that it's the main focus of my time here
while you'll have others.”

  “Could you tell me about the auction?”

  “Oh the auctions are fun. I miss is now that I have a permanent owner, but I wouldn't trade her for the world. After you get settled in, get your tack picked out and your 'hooves' under you, they hold a big event. It's on Sunday this year. All the folks who want an owner for the duration of the retreat will be auctioned off. Newbies are very popular. You'll have no trouble selling. The potential buyers have your papers so they know what you like and what you'll do, and they'll bid on you just like at a real horse sale. It's good to do your first time because the money will cover whatever tack you buy that isn't covered by your registration fee. The cost of “buying” you goes first to cover your tack and the rest goes to supporting Three Ferns Farm. You don’t have to do it, though. If you want to be a barn horse with no owner you can do that, too. It's entirely up to you.”

  Amy knew immediately that she wanted to be a part of the auction, but Goldie had reminded her something else. “I read about the Tack Room on the website,” she said. “How does it work?”

  “Well, it's like a big fetish store. It's in the main barn- that big one over there. They keep a huge supply of pony gear. We even have a few trainers and owners who do leather work so there's some custom work going on. Soon, one of the grooms will come and give you his, um, services according to the preferences on your papers. As a part of it you'll be taken into the Tack Room and you get to pick out your starter gear. They have everything I mean everything so you can really bankrupt yourself in there. The stuff that comes under the registration fee has white tags. You can have three white tags for your registration fee, but if you don’t want any of the white tags that money goes toward the other tack you want. Anything beyond that and it'll either be covered by your auction price or it will just go on your credit card.” Goldie went a little starry eyed for a moment. “If you take my advice, spoil yourself. If you're anything like me you've been waiting for this retreat for years, possibly your whole adult life. Enjoy it. For many of us, the first tacking up is a transformative experience.”

  Amy nodded. She absolutely meant to do just that. “How do I pick things out if I shouldn't talk to the groom?”

  “Oh you'll get the hang of that really quick. Just act like a happy horse! You know... whinny a little when you see something you like or paw at the ground. Shy away from things you don't like. The grooms are good at what they do and they'll know exactly what you mean. Speaking of which...” Goldie gestured to a figure walking towards them from the direction of the barns. “Looooks like someone is coming for you! Oh! You're so lucky! It's Conner. He is a great groom and really easy on the eyes. You're on, girl! Let's frisk, come on!” Goldie tossed her hair and ran off at a trot, her small and very tanned tits bouncing as she ran to the gate for all the world like a horse greeting a familiar face. Amy followed at a somewhat more sedate pace, a little unsure of herself and feeling shy about being completely nude in front of a man she didn't know.

  Conner, as Goldie had called him, was a tall, young man, perhaps in his early thirties, with a smooth shaven face, a dimpled smile, square chin, and curly brown hair that was currently covered with a tweed flat cap. He wore an old fashioned white cotton shirt with khaki pants and suspenders. He had crystal blue eyes that were almost gray, and they wrinkled in a smile as the two human mares approached him. “Well hello there, girls” He fished in his pocket and came out with a pair of sugar cubes. Goldie took hers eagerly out of his flat palm with her full lips, but Amy blushed furiously as she gingerly plucked the treat from his hand with her teeth. “You must be Sweetie, huh girl?” he said, gently taking a hold of her rope halter. She shied away automatically and he made soothing sounds just as one would do with a restless mare. Despite herself, she found herself relaxing. Before she came, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to act the part of a pony convincingly, but the way he treated her made it so easy to respond with her inner equine. He opened the gate and gave Goldie a familiar pat as he hooked a cotton lead rope onto her halter and led Amy from the paddock and down the smooth white lane in the direction of the main barn. At first she moved stiffly, painfully aware of her nakedness. There had been an illusion of privacy in the paddock and being naked around Goldie was no worse than being in a gym locker room. The activity on the farm was starting to pick up, though, and she could see at least fifteen people- horses, grooms, and trainers alike, busily going about their business on the first day of the retreat.

  “Well, Lass,” Conner said at length, leading her into the huge open doors of the main barn. “I reckon we'll get you tacked up first. You're the first new filly I've handled today so we'll have the Tack Room all to ourselves. I expect you'd like that.” The statement didn't demand a reply, but Amy felt like she should practice interacting with the groom like a pony, so she whinnied and tossed her head. Conner smiled as they walked down the long, clean barn. There were stalls on either side but the name plaques on them looked permanent. She would probably be housed in one of the stables that nestled around the main barn in a horseshoe pattern. She suspected that the main barn was for horses and ponies who had permanent owners.

  Finally, they came to the back of the barn which was sectioned off and converted into a huge room. The floor inside was softer on her bare feet and slightly rubbery. She stared in awe at the enormous collection of pony gear. In one corner, hoof boots and mits were arranged neatly by size, type, and color. On the walls hung every kind of harness and bridle imaginable. There were saddles of various makes and tails, both small and understated and long and luxurious. He led her over to a series of hooks on the wall where he tied off her lead rope and pulled out a little bundle out of his waistband. She hadn't noticed it before, it must be her papers. He consulted them briefly and put them on a low table by the wall.

  “Let's see...” he said, thoughtfully, walking to the display where the horse tails lay on tables and hung from the walls. “We'll start with the basics. A lot of ponies say that having a tail helps them feel it, you know. The big question is whether you want one that attaches,” he held up a tail that was meant to be held in place with an o-ring on a harness. “Or one that, you know, stays inside.” Now, he held up a tail that ended in a shining silver butt plug.

  Amy considered carefully. There were aspects of the butt plug that were tantalizing, but she had so admired the natural positioning, lush thickness, and graceful arch of Goldie's tail. Even with the best butt plugs the attachment couldn't be anatomically correct. She also noticed that the harness tails tended to be thicker and longer. She supposed you could support more weight on the harness than with your own ass. After a pause she snorted and tossed her head toward the harness tail. Conner smiled and put down the butt plug. She looked at it a little wistfully. Maybe another time...

  “Here are the white tag tails,” he said, displaying three tails in gray, dark brown, and black. They were fairly full but somewhat short, and she could tell that they weren't real horse hair. “Do you want to stick with these?” he asked. She snorted and this time kind of backed up and tossed her head with her face pointing down. True to Goldie's prediction, Conner read her intentions easily and he smirked. “I thought so. This is one place where the fillies tend to splurge. We have a lot of them but if you don't mind my suggestion I have a personal favorite for a bay ponygirl like you.”

  The tail must be very special indeed because it was kept in a box on a long shelf. He took one out and displayed it for her. It was so long it would likely come down to the backs of her knees. It was made so that it would arch off her back just like Goldie's did, and the fine and subtle texturing let her know that it was natural horse hair. It had a fine matte sheen and she loved it from the first moment she saw it. She whinnied excitedly and Conner brought it closer. “You like that one? It really is the best one and a pretty little pony like you deserves the best.” He sat the box with the tail down on the low table. “Alright, let's handle the bridles next. Are you interested at all in a mask
?” She snorted and shook her head. She admired the leather masks when they were worn on other people, but she enjoyed the freedom of feeling like a pony almost as much as she enjoyed the submission. She had tried one of the masks once at a fetish party and she didn’t like how it restricted her vision and movement. He nodded.

  “Alright, I see you're going to be training in harness. How about this one?” He held up a durable and sturdy looking bridle. It was shiny black leather with a silicone coated snaffle bit. “The bit can be removed,” he said, indicating the buckles that could be unhooked. “And you can also attach a plume here,” he pointed to the strap that would pass over her forehead where there was a subtle base stitched onto the back of the strap for a plume. “It doesn't come with reigns because it's primarily for harness work, but they can attach to the D-rings on the bit just like any bridle. We have ones that match.”

  She looked at the bridle carefully. It was beautifully made. It shone in the light but somehow it wasn't just right. Amy didn't even need to show her feelings this time. Conner hung it back up and said, “I see this one isn't for you. How about this one?” He held up another. It was much like the first but this one had a strap that came down the forehead and then parted, probably above the nose, she thought. It didn't seem to have an attachment for a plume. It was black like the first one but it had a more natural, matte finish. It had a snaffle bit, too, and also a pair of blinders which intrigued her. There were also a pair of delicately pointed horse ears worked in leather attached to it. She loved it, but it still wasn't quite perfect. Again, he seemed to read her mind.

  “I think I know what the trouble is.” He reached down into a drawer that hung under the bridles. He turned his back to her, fiddling with the bridle. When he turned around it still had the graceful, pointing leather horse ears but they were worked in a beautiful brown leather that contrasted with the black bridle and reflected her bay coloring. It was perfect! She tossed her head and whinnied. He rewarded her with another of his sweet, honest smiles and said “It's not a white tag, but I am sort of getting the impression you don't care?” She snorted derisively. Hadn't she saved up for this all year? He shrugged. “Ok, on to the harness then.”