Originally posted by kiuwo
at Horse races
Gwen was disappointed. And still angry. Dumbie, that stunning specimen of a ponyboy, had simply collapsed on the track at the end of the last race. Heart attack they said.
It's a shame. Since the new bunch of young Dommes has taken control of the board, accidents like that had become more and more common.
Their new rules! And also this one that has allowed the jockeys to make use of that damned drug, the Kickup, for their horses !
It's to spice up the race, they say.
And so it goes now: a horse may collapse after only two years of activity, as it's happened to poor Dumbie.
You know what that means ? That means stronger beast, thougher training, a more accurate dehumanisation program. In one word: prices hike up. The sole operation necessary to implant the electronic devices in their heads, just a minimum nowadays if you want to take all that unruliness out of their male brain, costs around twenty thousands bucks.
Only ten years ago, when the old guard was still in charge, things were different.
In some ways we took care of our ponyboys, Gwenda thought, and it could take six or seven years, before you had to worry how to get rid of it - what was not so easy as it is nowadays, when you got a specialized department of the F.R., the Femdom Ring, to take care of the issue, and even to dispose of a carcass like that of Dumbie's could have been a problem, and also a waste if you consider that the F.R. is now able to recycle it into bonemeal and animal food, which is mostly what our horses are given.
Gwen had been a strict Mistress, but never cruel. You can't hope to have them do what you want to be done, only through wippings and restraints. You can't expect the electronic devices to do all the job either.
They won't win, if they are not trained to feel the pride of their new condition and yearn for their owner's attention and approbation.
Things are more complicated than the young femdom people seem to think. How many of them still know how to violate a boy's mind ?
Gwen was a real expert in the art. She could push the boy's boundaries as far as it was he himself to beg for the bit, and willingly take the route to his animal life.
But of course, you have to get the right stuff to begin with.
And that was the real problem now. Dumbie had to be replaced. There was no time to waste. Male derbies had become a very profitable business, and Gwen could not afford to stay out of it for too long.
What if it was Dina this time to be right ?
Dina, Gwen's daughter, had just come back from the college with her master degree, and (you can bet on it) a lot of new ideas about how to change the world and improve their own lifestyle.
"I've done some calculations: we haven't lost any money with Dumbie. On the contrary, we've doubled our profits. That's what matters, what else? "
Dina's coldness about this sort of animals had often struck Gwen. It was not with bio-horses, she loved bio-horses and could get fond of them, but with ponyboys ..., well, she seemed to think it invonceivable with ponyboys.
It must be because she had grown up in the ranch, where ponies are trained,and it is a hard training
Males derbies are serious things, not just a role game or a bdsm play.
Ten sulkies on the same racetrack,pulled by horses made aggressive by the drug, straining under the hissing of the whip,running furiously while their jockeys keep urging them on, it's quite a job, believe me. A dangerous one.
The horse must be perfectly prepared to endure the tremendous strenght, and always prompt to respond to the commands of its driver. The dehumanisation must have left no traces of the previous life, and the horse capacity to focus on what's going on must have no faults.
For the jockey it's a safety question, for the owner a money one.
Dina was a child when she was taught to cue a horse with voice and whip. "
(to be continued)