Ms. Louise

Beginning

New!Gallery

New!Stories

Application

Chastity Contract

sissy Rules

Silliness

Touring

Links

Videos

Pony Play

Chapter 1

            The email arrived exactly 24 hours after Frederick and I had watched the Today Show.  Frederick was in his East Coast home and I was miserably domiciled in a broken down hovel in central Ohio, yet regardless of surroundings and circumstances our spirits soared with the news.

            Louise had been named Grand Marshall of the Rose Bowl Parade and would drive a gilded chariot through the streets of southern California with Frederick and I pulling Her as a team. We were going to be the first nationally televised pony boys in the U.S.A.

            I watched Katy fidget before the introduction. We all guessed that she had spent the night with Louise again. It had become a staple of every trip to the City.

            The tabloids had spy’s in every lodge even Her favorite Lower Manhattan hideaway, the Chelsea Hotel. So even as discreet as She could be, the list was growing month after month. Mariah leaving at 4:00 AM was caught on videotape.  A tear stained Brittany fled from reporters and Jennifer was seen entering a cab clutching her well-publicized and obviously well disciplined hindquarters.

 Rumors even circulated that Madonna had begged to crawl over Her lap and that She’d taught Paris a lesson in manners that she would never forget. It seemed that every tabloid on the newsstands was announcing a new “Celebrity spanking” and the name Louise D. was attached to every one of them.

 “Poor Katy,” I thought, “you’re in way over her head.”

            The co-anchor was breathless and wide eyed as Louise joined her onstage after the usual flowery introduction, She was wearing a red silk jockey’s waistcoat and a rakish derby hat of the same color. Under the jacket was a black leather corset that pinched Her tiny waist and raised every ounce of flawless skin. Her precious little feet were encased in tall black suede riding boots.

            But it was the breeches that left everyone breathless. They were a perfect blend of cotton and Lycra in snow white, with a full leather seat that begged to be licked clean. The material appeared to be actually caressing Her derriere and the television cameramen focused in like voyeurs in a nudist colony.

            The two women began the interview after the customary hugs and kisses.

            It was the same innocuous dialogue I had heard over and over again as Louise had risen to National prominence, simple non-personal questions.  The Mistress demanded some privacy! But just watching Katy’s sparkling eyes and excitement was a thrill.  I knew instinctively that Louise had given her another spanking.  She spanked all Her girlfriends, after they begged.

            Beyond that I could only fantasize. Oh could I fantasize!

            Katy hung on every word as Louise graciously thanked the Rose Bowl planning committee and explained how She was looking forward to serving the event with the elegance and reverence that such an important event demanded.

            “The people of Southern California will have the finest parade ever” She promised,  “and the television viewing public will be treated to a rare and unique event.”

            “Then You already have plans drawn up,” an eager Katy asked?

            “That’s the reason for my choice of riding apparel today darling. I’m going to lead the Rose Bowl parade by driving a chariot drawn by human pony boys. I promise that it will be a memorable experience.”

            A hush fell over everything.

            Katy’s mouth opened wide. She fought to gain her composure.

            “You mean actual pony boys”, she asked, “the kkkind we see in pornographic drawings on the internet. The nnnaked kind?"

            Louise laughed out loud.

            “Precisely dear, a team of muscular, sweaty, human ponies. They’ll be bridled and harnessed in leather bondage and have huge plugs fitted into their backsides to support their long flowing tails. I’ll decorate their nipples with golden bells and whip their rumps for amusement. It’s time America saw how truly useful men can be”.

            “Have you ever whipped a pony boy’s rump darling” Mistress asked, “or are you more drawn to pony girls?”

            Katy appeared confused and disoriented and more than a little aroused.

            “But where will You find theses pony boys,” she asked. The thought of muscular male rumps and thick erect cocks took her breath away.

            “They’re already stabled darling,” She said, “it’s only a matter of training to get them in proper shape.”

Chapter 2

 Dear Frederick and Fancy,

            We will begin immediately to prepare for the Rose Bowl event and I fully expect both of you to embrace this opportunity and serve Me to my deepest satisfaction. The attached files are programs that I have developed for diet, exercise, and training.  I have also included a list of toys that will be essential to this endeavor. Examine the list and purchase any items that you do not own.  Please familiarize yourself with the contents of all three files. You will both report to the Studio one week from today, precisely at 11:00 A.M.

            Tomorrow you both have appointments in your home cities with associates of mine. Treat your examiners with respect and follow their commands to the letter. I know you won’t disappoint Me.

Supremely,

MLD

            I quickly double clicked on all the attached files.

Chapter 3

            The ringing phone startled me, annoyed me. I was too wrapped up in the files to waste my time with another telemarketer.

            “Yes,” I shouted into the receiver, “what is it?”

            The voice was husky and authoritative with just the slightest bit of Eastern European accent.

            “Is this Fancypants?” she asked.

            “It is,” I answered, “but who are you?”

            “Listen carefully, and respond. Respond as a pony, not a human.”

            She gave me directions to a clinic on the outer-belt and ordered me to report at precisely 10:00 AM the following morning.  I would be there for several hours for testing and preparations.

            “What kind of testing?” I wondered, “what kind of preparations?” but I didn’t dare speak.

            With what little dignity I could muster I whinnied into the receiver and heard her laughing at me before the phone went dead.

            Five minutes later the phone rang again, this time I jumped to pick it up before the second ring.

            “Fancy,” he said, “this is Frederick, I just got a call.”

            “Me too,” I answered.

            “I have to report to a clinic tomorrow.”

            “Me too.”

            “For testing and preparations.”

 “Me too.”

“Fancy, I’m a little scared.”

“Me too Frederick,” I answered, “but isn’t it fun?”

We talked for over an hour about the excitement of seeing Mistress Louise on television. We talked about Her breeches and the way Katy flirted with Her. Then the conversation became very serious.

“You do understand how fortunate we are Fancy, don’t you?”

I hesitated a moment. For the last several years of my life I had thought of little else than serving Mistress Louise. I had hungered for Her discipline and basked in Her beauty. Now I had the opportunity to serve Her in the most degrading, humiliating fashion, on national television and before hundreds of thousands of people along the parade route.

“More than you’ll ever know Frederick,” I answered.

We said good night then, neither of us realizing at that time that in less than twelve hours we would be standing naked in front of two dominant women dedicated to debasing us beyond belief.

Chapter 4

            She was so young and so beautiful that she could have been a cheerleader at Virginia Tech or a member of the gymnastics team, but he knew better. She was the woman that would mold him to Louise’s specifications. As Frederick stood trembling and naked in her office his eyes traveled around the room. There was the usual assortment of metal desks and filing cabinets, computers and telephones.  But she had created a personalized space with a few very good watercolors on the wall and interesting antiques and mementos on every shelf.  There was an assortment of photographs of her with a variety of female friends. He couldn’t help but notice that they were all beautiful and laughing.

            A large wooden sorority paddle hung on the wall and he began to wonder which woman in each photo she had spanked?  Which had spanked her?  Poor Frederick only knew one thing for sure, he knew she wasn’t anyone to fuck with!

The technician’s name was Megan and her white uniform clung to the ripe curves of her athletic body like glue as she walked slowly around him examining his body, testing each and every muscle. She made mental notes about the training that would be required to mold him into the kind of shape that Louise demanded.                                       

His eyes followed her every movement and when the inevitable erection happened she pounced on him like a tigress.

Megan gripped his balls in a soft warm little hand that hand the strength of a metal vise, then squeezed till his legs trembled and beads of sweat covered his forehead.

 “If I feel those beady eyes on my body, you’ll pay dearly. Always keep your head respectfully high,” she warned him.      

Louise isn’t concerned if Her chariot is pulled by a stallion or a gelding.”

“UNDERSTAND?”

Poor Frederick nickered his agreement.

“Shoulders back” she shouted, slapping his balls hard.                                                

“Nipples out and rump presented in proper pony fashion!”                                      

He struggled to please her, afraid that he’d be whipped, or that he wouldn’t be.    

            Greta pulled me down a hallway with a rawhide leash attached to my scrotum. She was tall and angular and very forceful, with that fiery passion common to all Russian Dominas.                                                                                                                                   

            She barked orders in an accented English that reminded me of Karolina Petrokova who had first recognized my submissive nature. Karolina was as handsome and mature, as I was gangly and unsophisticated. She easily dominated me, seduced me with intimate spankings, then moved on to serious whippings with a leather quirt that left my backside raw and striped with welts.                                                                                                           

            I begged her to stop, then begged her to continue. My cock stayed rigid through the pain. Suffering for her was a powerful aphrodisiac.                                                           

            When I finally lay whimpering she demanded I satisfy her and wrapped her muscular thighs tightly around my head.                                                                           

            “Oh how I loved her.”                                                                                                  

            “Hurry fool,” Greta barked, “there is much to accomplish today.”

            She was dressed in a ribbed turtleneck sweater and tight leather pants and wore no jewelry except for an elegant Cartier tank watch. Women that exhibited her kind of feminine confidence had always easily controlled me.                                                       

            I was handed a mask as I stepped into the shower where she sprayed me with a powdered delousing agent.

It was mortifying!

She spit out order after order.

“Lift your balls.”                                                                                                           

“Spread the cheeks of your ass.”                                                                            

“Bend over you stupid animal, do I need to get a whip?”                                              

“How humiliating, I thought, I’d been disgraced before, but this was gruesome. Greta didn’t recognize my humanity, my sensitivity, would anyone, ever again.

She only laughed and I knew the answer.                                                                     

I was a pony now, an animal. I would have to earn kindness and affection with presentation and performance.

“This will rid your body of any vermin,” she said, “I’m sure a stable animal like you is riddled with pests.”

I was hosed down with icy cold water that made my cock shrivel up and she laughed again.                                        

“Maybe I was mistaken,” Megan said at the sight of Frederick’s cock after the spraying down. Maybe you’re already a gelding”.

Frederick blushed at her joke about his cock.

She sprayed him down again, this time with wonderfully hot, soapy water.                                 

“We’ll train your cock for you pony,” Megan said, “by the time of the parade it will stand high and stiff for hours and hours. Even during a cold shower!”                                             

He was scrubbed with a long handled brush and soft sponges till his coat sparkled and shined. Like all pony boys Frederick loved being groomed, bathed, soaped, and shampooed. When he was sparkling clean he always cantered proudly, wagged his cock and shook his rump.                 

I guess most ponies do and it’s such a beautiful sight when a pony’s been buffed and polished.                                                                                                                                  

Megan dried him with a thick soft towel then led Frederick out of the shower. She raised his hands over his head and attached them to cuffs dangling from the ceiling.

“I really enjoy this part,” she said. “We’ll have you looking like a thoroughbred in no time.”  She began removing the hair from his body with a pair of sheep shears. The smooth clippers glided over his chest and back and shoulders. His skin felt like it was charged with electricity.

She stooped down to work on his legs and ass, and then very carefully trimmed his pubic hair leaving a very short little halo of fur.

I gazed down at the hair covering the floor while Greta ran the long straight razor over the strap time and time again till the blade almost glistened with sharpness. She filled her barber’s mug with hot water and brushed my body one section at a time.

I trembled a little as it moved down my chest towards my nipples.

“Not to worry pony,” she said.

“Greta is very careful, and Louise wants to decorate your pretty nipples with bells that tinkle. I’ll make you “best in show”," she said, and gave my rump an affectionate hard slap.

The new sensation of being smooth excited me more than you could know, and when I was released from the overhead cuffs I hurried to the floor, lowered my head, and thrust my arms back to part the halves of my pony rump.

Greta soaped the crack of my ass and let the razor glide down between the cheeks and around the little wrinkled entry. I felt totally degraded, totally on display like an animal must feel when driven to market for sale.

But I loved being exposed and accessible from behind. I spread my legs wider and arched like I did when Louise wanted to mount me.

Greta chuckled,” such a little slut-pony” she said, “always hoping for cock.”
 

Chapter 5

The next room resembled the medical facility at the Studio. Frederick and Fancy were led to examination tables set in the center of the room under a large klieg light. They positioned themselves comfortably on their backs with their legs held up in metal stirrups while Megan and Greta bound them with upholstered linen hospital straps.

Louise was a firm believer in the psychological effects of tight restrictive bondage even in unnecessary situations like this.                                  

These docile obedient animals would never dare to balk.                                                          

A portable table covered with dozens of butt plugs was wheeled in along with a examination stool for the technicians. The plugs were various sizes, shapes, and colors. Some were the usual rubber while others were made of Pyrex and brushed aluminum. There were even exotic shiny stainless steel missiles that appeared particularly menacing.                   

Each plug had a metric marking at it widest point and the shapes varied from classic to hourglass. The large jar of elbow grease and a box of latex gloves told them they were in for a lengthy examination.                                                                                        

Electrodes were attached to the pony’s chests, wrists, and temples. A steel cock ring with an electrical lead was screwed tightly into place. The examination began.        

The techs gathered up gobs of grease in their gloved hands and worked the lubricant into the tiny, tight openings. Their skilled fingers and technical knowledge eliminated well over half of the plugs immediately.                                                                          

Greta and Megan worked slowly, methodically. Each test was timed and measured. How quickly did the sphincter surrender? At what point did it passionately grip the intruder?                                                                                                                      

Neither Frederick nor Fancy had ever been scientifically measured before but they both understood that the little muscle was wiser than they were. Within twenty minutes the women stepped back, obviously pleased with their efforts.                                       

The plugs remained firmly lodged inside the pony’s rectums even as weights were added to simulate the stress of the thick horsehair tails that would be attached.                              

Their bodies were unable to expel them, yet they could be worn comfortably for hours and hours.                                                       

The machines around the room whirred with precision recording blood pressure, basal metabolism rate, muscle contraction and the expected flat line reading for brain waves.

“Relax and enjoy the fullness,” Megan said, we have another thirty minutes to gather information.

Three hundred miles away Greta said the same thing.

The work of evaluation continued. Calipers checked fat deposits on over twenty spots around their bodies and precise tape measurements were made from neck to ankle, then recorded in PDA’s that had the MLD Electronics LLC logo in the lower right hand corner of devices.                           

Once the job was completed both Megan and Greta removed bright red paddles from their desk drawers and placed them in view for the ponies. They returned to their desks and hot-synced the PDA’s with their desktop computers. In moments laser printers were whirring in two locations, delivering scientific training programs that would insure success.

The ponies stared down at the paddles at their hooves. They were long, over a foot long, and wide, wide enough to caress their full rumps.

The paddles had been painted in the same vivid red that Louise preferred for Her fingers and toes, and many of the dresses and undergarments in Her huge wardrobe.       

But it was the engravings that made these paddles special and singular in appearance.

Etched into the blade were two pony heads with a lone tear streaking down their long face. The message was unmistakable. Frederick and Fancy would pay for this honor; they would pay with dearly.

Chapter 6

Back at the Cleveland Studio it was a miserable, cold, windy January day, and Mistress was glad that it was over. She shed Her work clothing and wiggled into a comfortable cotton sweat suit and designer sneakers.                                                               

Louise turned on the huge plasma television screen and set the dials for dual reception and split screen viewing just as little Kate entered the room.                                           

The former Olympian was a skilled Dominatrix with a sizable stable of her own yet found her greatest joy in bottoming to Louise.                       

She too had removed her Fetish gear in favor of a Cleveland Cavaliers T-shirt, a pair of pink cotton panties, and a floppy pair of woolen socks. Her body was strong and toned yet ballerina graceful. She wore her thick chestnut colored hair stylishly short and although not traditionally beautiful, she exuded a raw earthy sensuality the Louise loved. The T-shirt clung to her tiny breasts invitingly.

“You look marvelous,” Louise said, and Kate responded, “it’s about time you noticed!”

Kate loved to be aggressive with Louise, sometimes scolding Her even in public, sometimes threatening to spank the Mistress for behaving like a brat.

But the compliment had its intended effect. Kate’s deep blue eyes sparkled and a smile covered her face from ear to ear.                                                                                         

She served the Mistress hot chocolate, lit the fireplace, then joined Her in a huge comfortable chair covered in red wide-whale corduroy. They snuggled together under a beautiful Afghan that had been woven for the Mistress by an Amish transvestite.

Louise held Kate in Her arms, smelled her hair, then kissed the soft skin on her neck just below the ear.

“Thanks darling,” She said, “how could I ever replace you.”

“You can’t,” she answered just as the television screen brightened.                             

Frederick and Fancy were standing with their backs to the television camera facing Megan and Greta. The women were holding spiral bound training manuals, and Megan spoke for both women.

“Inside these manuals you will find charts and graphs that will be used to grade your training progress,” she said.

“Once each week you will report to us and your progress will be noted. Grading will be on weight loss, body fat reduction, muscle growth, energy level, emotional stability, memory improvement, and sexual potency. Keep in mind that the numbers listed for weeks 40-1 are not goals. They are not targets and they are not quotas.”                                                          

“The numbers listed are absolutes.”                                                                              

“You will not fail.”                                                                                                        

“OR ELSE!”

A frightened Fancy and Frederick were close to peeing when the woman put down the manuals and retrieved the large red paddles. The well trained ponies bent forward and tightly gripped their ankles.

Louise touched the volume up arrow on the remote control as the first swat landed with a satisfying slap. The sound of hard wood on soft flesh was an aphrodisiac to the beautiful Domina that made Her crotch tingle with excitement.                                                        

“Wow!” Kate exclaimed.

The sound of the smacks and sight of their bright red rumps glowing was like watching a calamity on television news that you couldn’t look away from! The skilled disciplinarians swung the paddles in high swooping arcs that lifted each pony rump with every swat. The soft flesh flattened then jumped back into geometrical roundness after each smack.                                                                                                                           

Frederick and Fancy gasped and yelped as the women put their entire bodies into every swing with the strength and precision of professional tennis divas. The woman grunted with each hard stroke and their bodies began to glow with perspiration.

The pony’s sobs echoed through the air.                                                                                   

Louise fiddled with the remote control moving from camera to camera till finally She was looking at the pony’s grimacing faces. Almost as a team they opened their mouths slightly to catch the salty bitter tears that streamed down their long pony faces.

“Sometimes,” Louise whispered in a husky throaty voice, “sometimes,  My power frightens Me.”

A wise Kate cuddled closer, held the Mistress tighter.                                                

Nights like this only happen once in a while, and Louise would require a lot of attention.

Chapter 7

It was less than ten miles from Greta’s office to my home but the rush hour traffic and my pitifully bruised buttocks made it an excruciating journey. Even the big fluffy pillow I kept in my trunk to help after visits to the Studio offered little help and I sobbed with each pot hole and cursed the Ohio winters.

I drove into my neighborhood and marveled at how things had changed. Each home had a storage barn in its backyard that had originally been built to house lawn tractors and other yard tools but after the millennium had been converted to disciplinary wood sheds. Once the Women of the world had taken control we didn’t stand a chance and the days of golf and beer had disappeared and been replaced by nightly marches through the back yard followed by the sounds of corporal punishment.                                    

Maybe we always wanted them to dominate us?

It came so easily to them and they were so good at it!

Once inside I quickly stripped and examined my behind in the full length bathroom mirror. I gasped at the sight. I was beautifully smooth from the shaving, swollen and crimson.  I had to act quickly or by morning I’d be purple with bruises. I hurried to basement and opened the freezer and stared down at my greatest invention.

It was very simple really, but was a product perfectly timed for this new era of Female Domination.

I wrapped the sarong girdle around my hips tightly and secured it in the front with Velcro attachments. Instantly the thin film of synthetic ice between the two nylon layers brought a soothing relief to my inflamed posteriors.

“Ah.”

The ice would stay cold for nearly a half hour and I had two more of the pampering garments, one in white and one in nude to match the black girdle I now wore

 It felt great and I took delight in being its inventor, although it was Frederick’s marketing genius and the beautiful Mistress Louise that had made it the Consumer Report’s Top New Product of 2003.

My thoughts had run to Bookstore’s and Internet sales to promote the item but Frederick knew better.

“Nonsense,” he said, ‘we’ll combine the power of television with the inimitable allure of Mistress Louise.”

“Nothing less than QVC and HSN can do justice to this product launch,” he added, “and who better to sell the product than Louise, huh?”

What genius he possessed!                                                                                          

Of course Louise quickly took control of the project.                                          

She ordered me to include some value added designs like scalloped lacing and detachable garters and orchestrated a simulcast between the two rival networks to introduce the product. 

Of course that night became a watershed moment for a large part of the male population in the world, the kind of night that you use to measure your life. Everyone could tell you what they were doing and where they were the moment She appeared on television that night.                                                                  

That time referred to in the tabloids as The Night of the Dress!

I had expected Her to be radiant in a red flirty, feminine silk dress and a marvelous pair of Guiseppe Zanotti suede shoes with four inch heels and wrap around ankle straps. At least that had been the plan.

But when did Louise ever do the expected?

When She appeared before the cameras a strange hush fell over the northern hemisphere as though for an instant time had stopped. The dress was transparent! As in sheer clear nothing hidden perfection! It was plastic, or latex. Like Saran Wrap it clung, cradled, and exhibited. A black piping at the hemline and sleeves formed a border where none other existed and clearly delineated between flesh and fabric.                                                

It was simply put, a window to paradise.                                                                                  

The dress was knee length and tucked tightly at the waist before hugging Her hips sensuously. It was irresistible and enslaving and the cunning Louise had worn a risqué bra and thong ensemble woven from flesh-colored nylon mesh.                                          

Men everywhere dropped to the floor in front of their television sets with bulging eyes and rapidly beating hearts.                                                 

Louise took a seat stage center to begin the question and answer period from the female boards of the two sales networks. In a replay of the infamous “Basic Instincts” movie scene She crossed and re-crossed Her long shapely legs. The whispers began.              

“Is She?”

“Could She be?”                                                                                                          

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Louise pulled back Her shoulders to toy with the audience.

It remains a mystery to this day!                                                                              

Actually who could tell if they saw Her precious nipples at that moment or just the embroidered cups of the lingerie?                                   

Or that divine temple between Her legs as She changed Her position in the chair.

The truth is we believe what we hope to believe, and we all hoped that She was naked!

By the time Her brief sales pitch for the therapeutic girdle was over, men all over the world had their phones in one hand ready to dial the order number, and their others hands, well, elsewhere.                              

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