Summer School by Jurgen von Stuka
A BDSM Pony Girl Novel
Desperately wanting to get away from home for the summer, Dori Hammond, talks her father into sending her to a summer riding school. However, she quickly learns that this is not a traditional riding school, and its unusual training methods are cause for alarm. However, having signed the required contract, she and the other students are obliged to submit to a rigorous training regimen. Unbeknownst to them, they’ll be methodically transformed into human ponies. Headmistress Wright and Headmaster Boswick employ mechanical horses, strict restraint, suspensions, and the resources of the farm's deepest cellars. Their female students quickly learn what a horse's life is really like and that misconduct will lead to severe punishment. Riding, as the girls discover, is more than taking a pony around the ring. As Head Master Boswick says, "You can't learn to ride until you've been ridden."
Though the girls may deny the humiliating treatment, they often experience an overwhelming sexual satisfaction in the pleasure and pain they suffer.
Many of the young women are spoiled, unruly and are sent there by their wealthy parents. One unlucky German girl, Lucy, is made to go on an overnight train and sent to the school, everything arranged for by her Dutch boyfriend.
Dori and her fellow students are subjected to discipline and training from both the male and female staff. As punishment, there is the dairy barn where the girls are turned into human cows. And for those incorrigible young females who fail in equine training and in the dairy barn, there are more serious consequences. For Dori and the others, it becomes clear long before the end of the story that their lives will be transformed forever, in ways they never imagined.
Boots first, THEN breeches? Dori thought. This is really weird! She sat down on the large colorful hooked rug and pulled on a thin pair of tan, knee-high stockings and then pulled on the boots. They were tight and came up a little shorter than she was used to, but they fit fine. The leather was soft and smooth, and the boots almost felt as if they had been broken in for her. Bending her legs, the top of the boots came right up behind her knee, although they didn’t cut into the skin or press so as to stop the circulation. She saw quickly that they had been cut correctly for her legs. Well, there’s where a good five or six hundred bucks of tuition went, she mused, smoothing the boots out over her calves.
“Beautiful!” Dori exclaimed. She took the breeches and tried to step into the wide legs.
“Wait a minute, let me show you how this is done,” Winnie said. “You kneel on the rug and put your knee into the left leg, like this.” Winnie helped Dori place her bent left knee into the tight, Lycra and spandex-based breeches. The fabric gripped the bent limb tightly, but Dori’s small, well-muscled leg slowly inched into the short leg of the breeches. As her knee reached the bottom of the pant leg, the top of the leg fit exactly at the top of her thigh and only her small, booted foot remained outside the legging. Winnie fastened a strap that went around the ankle and the top of the thigh, pulling Dori’s booted heel tightly and closely against her smooth, Lycra-rounded butt. Another small strap at the bottom of the leg slipped under the heel of her boot and kept the breeches leg tight against the ankle. Dori was mystified about this garment, but also fascinated enough to continue. She balanced herself on the bent left knee and forced the right one into the other pant leg, getting needed support from Winnie as she did so.
In another minute, Dori knelt on the hooked rug, both legs encased in the skin-tight breeches with her ankles strapped back against her buttocks and her boot toes digging into the rug for support. Her entire crotch was bared, from behind to just below her navel. Her closely clipped pubic hair was centered in the middle of the open crotch of the breeches. Above her crotch, covering her navel and up to her waist, the breeches were conventional with a brass zipper fly and buttons at the waist. The belt was mercilessly tight, cinching in her 23-inch waist to something closer to 20 inches. Dori gasped as Winnie tightened the buckle. She was surprised to see that it had a small lock and this was closed and locked once the belt had been tightened.
“Hey, why the lock?” Dori asked.
“So you don’t take them off, Honey. Isn’t that obvious?”
“Yeah, but…” Dori stopped. “How long will I have them on? They’re really tight and I don’t see myself going to dinner this way.”
“Oh, everyone manages, sooner or later,” Winnie said cheerfully. “It takes a while. Anyway, we’ve got a top for you in the bag. Let me show you.”
Winnie pulled out a white turtleneck shirt. At least it looked a little bit like a regular turtleneck until she brought it closer to Dori and started to fit it over the her head. The shirt had several additional accessories like no turtleneck shirt Dori had ever seen. It had two short white nylon zippers on the chest and one long, heavy-duty nylon zipper in the back. The small zippers ran vertically up both sides of the chest. Behind the zippers, a built-in bra had been stitched into the shirt, the straps hanging loose and unfastened from inside. The shirt had no sleeves in the conventional places, but there was one large, single sleeve in the back and the large zipper was stitched into this sleeve.
“Put it on,” Winnie insisted, pulling the collar over Dori’s head. Dori gathered her hair in one hand, closed her eyes and stuck her head through the hole in the collar, noting the zippers in the front, the built-in bra inside and the single sleeve, which seemed to be in the wrong place for either arm.
“It’s got zippers and a bra in it,” Dori said as she was trying to poke her head through the neck of the shirt.
“That’s it. An ‘all in one.’ You’ll see.”
“What’s with the zippers?”
“Great. What a goofy shirt!”
Dori’s head popped out the top of the shirt, the rest of the fabric resting on top of her shoulders.
“Bring your hands together behind you,” Winnie said.
“What? Why? This isn’t going to work, Winnie. I don’t think I want to do this,” she started to whine.
“DO IT. DON’T COMPLAIN OR YOU’LL BE SENT HOME,” the other girl shouted, her face getting red and her eyes almost popping out of their sockets.