If you’ve been around the blog for long, you know that I am very into Pony Play. Doing a quick search on the tag “pony” on my blog I found eight posts, but I know there are several more that I just haven’t tagged.
I don’t know if I’ve ever written much about why I enjoy pony play, or how it works within W’s and my dynamic, which is very definitely not a role playing one, and in which our BDSM play is very much more of a…harsher…style than pony play typically lends itself to. (Which is not to say there isn’t a great deal of sensuality, gentleness, love and laughter in our play as well, but for the most part, when the whips come out, we both go into a different mindset than one that I have always associated with pony play.
Last year at this time, W, Ad and I attended MadtownKinkFest in Madison. We had a terrific time, and part of that was having the opportunity to participate in their annual Fetish Pageant. The idea is to show and explain a fetish of yours through your costuming – preferably as handmade as possible – and a brief essay.
We chose to show Onyx, my show pony persona, and talk about how this kink has developed and grown between us. What follows is the actual essay I wrote for the Pageant.
Hi, I’m Jade. Since my pony persona, Onyx, can’t speak for herself, the judges graciously allowed me to write this essay for us both, explaining how our fetish works, and why it means so much to us.
Pony is about more than the trappings of the fetish, more than the tack and the tail and the bells and the bit – although all those things are certainly an important part of pony play for me. More than that, the creation of Onyx’s gear was something that became deeply connective for Onyx’s Handler, W, and I. The making of Onyx’s gear is the story of how we connected in this fetish – though we came to it from different perspectives – and how we made it our own.
My fascination with pony play began long before I knew it as a fetish; before I knew what kink and fetish even were. I grew up in a railroad family, and like military families, we never stayed in one place long enough for me to make friends, or to feel secure enough to even try. So I escaped into books and writing and horses. The summer I was twelve we moved to a tiny town in the mountains, and, with no one else to play with, but endless acres of woods and river and fields to play in, a favorite game of mine was “Pony.” I was Pony that summer, running free with my wild band of imaginary pony friends, and I escaped deeply into that space. But the next year we moved to town, and I started to make real friends, and I grew up, and my need for Pony faded.
But I never forgot her.
Fast forward 20 years or so. I had begun to experiment with kink with my (now) ex-husband. Pony play as a kink was still not on my radar, and in fact I didn’t know pony play was a kink, until we went to an event and accidentally ended up in a pony play seminar. I was electrified by it and knew immediately that this was something I wanted to explore. I knew I had a pony inside me, but how to let her out? I came out of that seminar bursting to tell my ex how excited I was about it, but before I could, he told me that he had found it kind of silly and had no interest in it. His reaction made me embarrassed about my own reaction, and so I never mentioned it, to him or anyone else.
But how that desire stayed with me! Seeing someone do exactly what I wanted to do – become a pony – filled me with fantasies and desires I had no way to explore and that I actually felt a little ashamed of, and silly for wanting.
Until my kink partner W came along.
I don’t recall how it came up. Maybe it was just a “gee, check that out,” sort of conversation. Or maybe I was fishing a little to gauge his reaction, because even though he has always been completely supportive of the many things I want to explore, even the ones he has no interest in, I still didn’t quite trust that pony play would be one of those things. I still felt the embarrassment that my ex’s reaction had instilled in me.
Would he think I was stupid?
He thought no such thing. Instead I learned that he, too, had an interest in ponies, albeit from a different perspective. That day, we made our first foray into pony play. He had a bit gag and I, well, I had a pony living in my head.
And Onyx was born.
To understand Pony and how she is manifested in our – W’s and my – kink, you only have to look at Onyx’s gear.
As I said, W comes at pony play from a different headspace than I do. Pony play is not about being (having/owning/controlling) an actual pony. His is a ponygirl kink, something that he has been turned on by since long before I confessed to my desire to be a pony. For him the fetish is about subjugation and control. It is about forcing a woman to become something completely “other” – a creature, an object that he has created – and a very sexual creature at that. It is not pet play and it is not about a woman being a pony, it is about objectification, subjugation, and sex. It is the transformation of a woman into a sexual creature that he has created specifically for himself. For me it is a transformation as well – but it is a transformation into Pony. It is leaving the human me behind and falling into Ponyspace, into being Pony. And yet, as strange as it sounds, that is exactly where the connection between these two disparate perspectives connect us, at the crossroads of his pony fantasies and mine. I am Pony, but I am also his creation, and Pony’s gear reflects his vision of what a ponygirl is.
Which is exactly as it should be.
We spent hours creating Onyx’s gear, discussing how it should look, how it fits, what pieces she needs. W made the leather pieces – her headstall and harness – by hand. My other partner even got into it by shopping with me and buying the perfect bit for Onyx – a real pony bit. We made changes and went back to the drawing board when certain things didn’t work out. And we made compromises that took both our visions into account. For instance, knowing that Onyx was a show pony, and needs a high tail, he agreed to build her harness so that her tail would be in the right place (a pony girl would have a buttplug tail, but never a real pony, was my argument.) But I agreed to other things that enhanced his perception of Onyx as a Ponygirl, and a sexual object, such as the tit collars that he made, and exposing my labia rings. And as he made each piece and we tried it on, I became Onyx more and more. And he became Onyx’s Handler, not just Jade’s Dominant.
Pony herself – Onyx – is an amalgamation of those two visions: pony and ponygirl. Onyx is sweet, and a bit shy, but high-spirited and occasionally fractious. She also wants to please her Handler, and she knows that what pleases Him is that her essence is the sexual woman beneath the pony, and so she proudly displays herself to him and for him. And it was through creating Onyx’s gear, together, that that vision was accomplished.