Chapter 1

I first met Sean when we were both freshmen

in college, eight years ago, but why we’re still friends is beyond

me. He’s everything I’m not—skinny, for starters, with a lingering

gawkiness that reminds me of Dungeons & Dragons. Maybe

his love of RPGs is part of the reason he joined a local bondage

group. I’m not into whips and chains and leather, God knows. I like

my sex of the vanilla variety—no dress-up role-play for me.

Standing against the wall and taking it from behind are as kinky as

I want to get.

So it surprised me when Sean called me one

evening, all excited about a weekend affair his bondage group was

putting on. More surprising still, he wanted me to go, too. “I’m

not into that crap,” I told him. I almost felt offended that he’d

asked.

But he laughed and said, “How do you know,

Drew? You can’t say for certain until you’ve tried it.”

“Oh, hell no,” I replied. “The thought of

someone ordering me around to do degrading shit like lick their

toes pisses me off. No way I’m doing that.”

Sean assured me, “It’s so not like that. See?

You’ve got the wrong idea about the whole thing. It’s not even a

slave weekend. It’s pony play. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not into horses,” I told him.

“You don’t have to be,” he insisted. “Pony

play is a form of S&M—”

“Stop right there,” I said. “That’s all I

need to hear to know I’m not interested.”

“Come on,” he begged. “Listen to me

before you say ‘No.’ Basically, all you do is dress up like a pony,

okay? That’s it.”

Skeptical, I asked, “And do what?”

“Whatever your master says.”

That’s the part I had a problem with. “Look,

Sean,” I began, “thanks for thinking of me, really, but I can think

of better things to spend my weekend doing than carrying some fat

lard-ass around on my hands and knees just because he has a riding

crop in his hand.”

Sean persisted. “Let me tell you, Drew, some

major studs are into pony play. Believe me. Guys who are into

cowboys and sports. Guys like you. And you know

there’s going to be sex. There hasto be.”

That got my attention. I didn’t have a steady

boyfriend, didn’t even know how to go about findingone, and

couldn’t clearly remember the last time I got laid. “You sure

there’ll be guys my type there?” I asked. Maybe I could at least

tryit.

I heard the smug sound of victory in Sean’s

voice. “Oh, yeah. Jocks are totally into pony play, I’m telling

you.”

Part of me wondered if he meant to say

jockeyinstead, but I didn’t press it. “And it’s not totally

hetero? Because I’m not having some leather bitch boss me

around.”

“It’s everything,” Sean assured me. “Women

and men, straight, gay, lesbian, all types. These weekend deals

bring out everyone. So you’re going, right?”

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of

hearing me say yes, so I growled into the phone, “All I’m saying is

I better get some dick out of this. You hear me?”

Sean promised, “You will.”

* * * *

Saturday morning found me in line with Sean

and a dozen or so other pony wannabes. There were women with twin

ponytails that made them look like little girls and men barely old

enough to shave. Our line divided the renovated barn that Sean’s

group had rented for the weekend. Tables lined the walls as vendors

hawked all kinds of sex toys, books, DVDs, clothing…you name it,

someone here had it for sale or knew how to get it. People swirled

past the vendors, many on leashes that kept them at their masters’

sides like obedient pets, some in full-body sensory deprivation

suits, a few almost naked. Everywhere I looked, I saw black

leather. Bearish men wore assless leather chaps that exposed thong

underwear and vests open to naked chests and pale bellies.

Dominatrices stalked through the crowd with bared breasts and whips

folded into their fists, leather mini skirts flaring when they

turned to show crotchless panties. I felt conspicuously out of

place with my T-shirt and jeans, and I glared down anyone who tried

to appraise me. Nudging Sean, I asked loudly, “So where are all the

hot guys you promised would be here?”

Rolling his eyes, he told me, “Just wait.” We

shuffled forward as another pony-to-be disappeared through the

closed door ahead, and I noticed with an anxious sense of dread

that we were only two people away from being next. I didn’t want to

do this. Watching others being led on chains was embarrassing

enough. To actually beone of them would be humiliating. Was

it too late to call the whole thing off? Sean would never let me

live it down, and the prospect of sex was the only thing keeping me

where I stood. What if I missed the guy of my dreams just because I

sat out of the training class for beginning ponies?

Yeah, right. As if the guy of my dreams would

be here

I managed to talk myself into leaving and was

just about to tell Sean, thanks, but I’ll be waiting in the

car, when I realized he was no longer in front of me. The line

had moved until I stood at the head of it. I was alone in a sea of

leather-clad sex freaks. I vowed to kill Sean if I ever saw him

again. Leaving me alone with this crowd, in a place like this…

In front of me, the door opened. A man about

my father’s age peered out, his craggy face framed with white hair

that wisped back from his brow. He wore a pair of two-tone riding

breeches, a navy-blue jacket, and a silly hat that made him look

like a jockey. “I’m Charles,” he said in a vaguely European accent

that sounded too forced to be real. “I’ll be your groom this

morning. Please step in.” When I hesitated, he asked, “Your name,

sir?”

“Drew,” I said as he swept me into the room,

pulling the door shut and effectively barring my escape.