The trail begins

***DISCLAIMER***

So, this is not some erotic fiction set in a world far, far away or a mind as...unique as Pet's. This is a story about how I first grew into an interest in both my sexuality, bondage, and ponyplay. In case you've never been to my Twitter page or read a fair deal of my stories...I rather enjoy the latter quite a lot. Now, given the personal nature of this blog you can understand it's taking a lot to actually come out and do this. These are things I haven't even told Zoey about, so I'm certain she's just as anxious to be hearing about this as you all are. Therefore, with that said...let's begin.

The one who changed me was...WAS...

This might come as somewhat of a shock, but it wasn't some pornographic feature in any medium that set me on the path toward where I stand now. Such things didn't concern me at the ripe age of ten. Right at the time my body was getting set to undergo its changes. It was, in fact...Batgirl. Say what? Yes. Barbara Gordon herself was the catalyst. The spark that lit the fuse. A...long fuse, I'll admit, but one that certainly began everything. I mean, technically I could say it was my father for having purchased the comic that started everything but saying that...would just sound weird.

Aside from a level of attractiveness I was struggling to understand at the time, there was a certain image image within a comic I was reading. For aesthetic purposes, it wasn't the standard comic people would mostly flip through these days. This was more...of an Archie build. A light 70's or 80's graphic novel. There we go. It's main antagonist was a random gangster looking to steal something or other. As you can tell the story wasn't a key figure in this for me. Neither were Batman or Robin. In fact, aside from helping I'm not even certain what Batgirl was doing or how she was even captured. But she was and the image of her bound, gagged, and horrified as the antagonist began sealing her up behind a brick wall excited me. The excitement, much like my fondness toward her, was a little confusing. But I went with it.

My eyes remained glued on the image and everything else started to become a blur. All I can remember happening next was turning the page briefly to see Robin being the one to rescue her. But that wasn't the thing that stuck with me all this time. The image, the look, the way her body was on the floor completely helpless. I thought that if I couldn't figure out what was happening with me at that moment, then perhaps I could try and figure out what was happening with her.

Real Child's Play

For the next few months I began to experiment with various forms of, well, restraining myself. After a shower and in the safety of my room I would wrap the damp towel around my ankles. I've tried my wrists but have you tried tying yourself tight enough there with a towel by yourself? Not exactly easy. I did manage it once by swinging the towel around my wrists but then became frightened when I couldn't get the towel off at first. Lesson learned then because I panicked when the thought of asking my parents for assistance. The question of “how” wouldn't have been the issue, but “why”.

As the months rolled along I did other smaller bits inside of my bedroom. I would take my pillows and rest them on either end of the bed and lie down with my wrists under one and my feet under the other pretending to be restrained. When I was sitting in an arm chair I would rest my arms down and imagine they were tied into place. All of this was based solely on my imagination, but I was soon getting to the point where I needed more. Indeed, there was no stopping...only going forward for me.

Bmps, Mpegs, and hard disks

When I was twelve the internet became a big part of my life. Not just in studying certain school projects but projects on a much more personal level. Now, I'm certain some of you will be surprised by this, but there was a time where Google wasn't a thing. Not only that, but you couldn't just randomly type in something and automatically get pages and pages of pornographic images. You had to search forums, you had to visit the actual sites, you had to dig deep just to find something. Anything! At least...where I was concerned.

See, at the time I didn't know such terminology as bondage or shibari or anything of the sort. All I knew was who was attractive to me and the word “naked”. Britney Spears was certainly big when I was younger, so...”Britney Spears naked” became a search. Cindy Margolis was another. Of course, every image I came across was a fake but it did enough justice for me. I found what I wanted and I was satisfied over it. Of course, all of this had to come with a huge low profile as I stayed up late at night to explore these images and feared to God that my parents would either be woken up by the noise of the modem connecting me to the internet or just the brightness of the screen itself! You know, come to think of it, a lot of porn sites back then had a dark background. Maybe just for that reason.

Eventually, that computer would come into my room once my parents got a newer model. It was as if they knew, but was certainly a good thing they didn't, because it meant I was so much closer to viewing the programs necessary to watch what I wanted! Unfortunately...as my room, for odd reasons, didn't come with a phone jack I had zero access to the internet on that machine. So it still meant late nights on the newer model downloading images and videos and using hard disks (Yes, that's a disk with a K) to bring them back over to my computer as I was a little frightened to use the CD burner at the time. The trick with the disks, however, was that only certain ones would work at certain times. Don't ask me why, but when one disk would give me nights and nights of transferring power it would suddenly stop loading and therefore I'd have to switch to a new disk. So not only would I come in with a stack of disks but I'd get a chance to use all those swear words I was learning. :)

Mostly I would transfer images, jpegs or bitmaps primarily, but I'd mostly be after videos. Luckily, this was around the early days of file sharing. You know, with the likes of Limewire, Kazaa, Ares, and others. I had no idea what the video was about, aside from the title (although a lot of those were a lie. Apparently DBZ fucking Sailor Moon was two women scissoring each other). So I downloaded as much as I could within the night, transferred them over to my disks, swore at them a few times, and then watched the ones I could on my computer. Unfortunately, all I could watch were mpegs and those that remember them can remember that they...aren't the best quality. Not only that but the videos I had had such short run times. I was ecstatic when I got a minute and a half long video, over the moon excited when I got one that was five minutes! Still remember the five minute one, it was of a POV shot of someone fucking a blond pornstar. Can't remember her name, Dylan something. It was fun having it on in the background though when I was cleaning. Made me feel like an adult.

The curvy back of the ponygirl

The very first image of a ponygirl I saw actually left me frightened. “How could a person bend themselves like that? Does the artist not know how the spine works? Was there some sort of surgical procedure the woman was forced to go through?” It took me a while before going back so all I was left with were my questions. Questions that kept crossing my mind as I would think back to my interpretation of the image. Eventually, curiosity took over and I started searching out instances of women riding other women like horses. Searches have to start in some format. :P

Eventually, I would come to understand the kink as being “ponyplay” and was more than just a section of fan art on certain sites. It was in fact one of the more openly participated bondage experiences out there. If you were to look it up now one of the things you'd be likely to see would be outdoor semi-public events. To me, it's because unlike most other forms of bondage you can actually compete with this one. You can share experiences with more than just talking. Plus it's just so cute! So when I started learning more I just never stopped. In fact, I spent an entire night just researching this kink and came across several very helpful sites. Some of which offered stories and I figured what better way to learn about something than to write about it yourself? Well...actually partake, but aside from giving a few high steps around my room there was very little I could do at the time.

“I don't want to see your lips touching, just your tongue.”

I went through a series of videos. Some of them I just deleted, some of them I kept for a while, others I still have. One about a dress maker, another of two girls in a field, and one of a thirty-seven second long video of a dominatrix with her female slave that did as much for me as Batgirl had done a few years earlier.

It was rough sex, as in the domina was gripping the slaves hair as she face fucked her with a dildo ramming it in deep and fast before the scene would abruptly change to when the domina was nearly queening (face sitting) over the slave's face giving her the command “I don't want to see your lips touching, just your tongue.” This was toward the slave's given task of pleasuring her Mistress by licking her pussy. There was a nice close shot of the action while the dominatrix ran her hand between the slave's legs and...I wanted that. The video was played so many times, I never grew tired of it. I always remembered the commanding tone and the way the slave was so obedient to her Mistress following her orders and being pleased in doing so. Both metaphorically and literally.

I knew that if that's what I wanted to be then I needed to pick up my game. Therefore, it was time to stop playing with pillows and towels and kick my erotic self discovery into a higher gear.

My ever loving army of slave girl...Barbie dolls

Let's face it, at fourteen years old I couldn't exactly invite my friends over so we could try dominating one another. By that age I understood that what I was doing I was going to have to do it alone. However, I had grown rather fond of my stuffed animals and never wanted to harm a single one of them. Therefore, it all fell to the next best thing; my collection of Barbies.

I didn't really do much with them at first, just gathered them along and tied them up with little zip ties. Gave them collars and leashes, left them nude (obviously), and...that was it. At the beginning. Soon, things picked up in a big way as I started giving them placements. The dolls I had proved too much for me to command and so I needed some in closer service to me to oversee the others. Thus began the rule of Slaves->Submissives->Me.

It wasn't long until I started reaching out into my sisters collection of Barbies. She had long since outgrown them so I figured it might be safe to relieve them from her care as at least I had a use for them. Unfortunately, one evening when I was up setting a few of the “new arrivals” up in their new roles my sister came in and spotted her dolls. Bound, collared, and leashed to a few of my own. This could have very well been the end but proved to be perhaps the beginning of something new as she just made some joke and told me what she needed to tell me then left.

My late-late night ventures into the realms of bondage and self discovery weren't over yet.

Queenie and the Big Climax

With the interruption into my late evening plans by my sister, I began to feel a huge tinge of guilt over what I was doing. I had stolen, I had lied, I had been selfish, I couldn't even look at my parents and see myself as their daughter anymore. I was just some perverted teenager who thought she knew what she was doing only to find out she not only knew nothing but she was in such a deep amount of that incompetence that there was no turning back. I couldn't just give up on everything I had done, so I took things to a different direction.

I've always said that my first dominatrix was the one who taught me to dominate. Unfortunately, I had one before her. Me. Or at least myself through one of the dolls. I called her Queenie and she was the true dominatrix through my means. When I wasn't playing with the others I was having Queenie dictate orders to me in my mind. She called me Slave, I called her Mistress, it was what I felt I needed.

One night, Queenie had given me a new order, one she had never given before. Still etched in my mind were those images of those women touching themselves in pictures I had seen. I never gave them much thought until that night as they weren't what I was looking for. But now was the perfect opportunity to go right back there. Under her command, I began touching myself. I began rubbing myself. I began, what I would later find defined, masturbating. While she belittled me for being such a useless whore, a fucking cunt slave, I answered back with a very low “Yes, Mistress.”

Then it happened.

It was something I had never felt before, something I had never seen nor knew would happen from this action. A case of excitement that washed over my body straight from where my hand was touching. Afterward, I laid there under the covers and stared up at the ceiling. I no longer heard Queenie's voice, just the sensation of that feeling. Years had been pent up for that one very brief moment. Ever since that first image of Batgirl, to the videos, to the dolls, everything. It was at that moment that I no longer felt the shame of guilt because I knew what I wanted.

I wanted more.