“Call me Oliver.And what exactly do you mean?”
“The name of my…business…is the Braided Crop Ranch.We’re really a club, of sorts, with a resort hotel on the premises.”
Hmm.“Oh.And you offer riding as part of the resort experience?”
Mr.Marsland laughed.“No.No riding.Only ponies.”
“I’m sorry.I’m a bit confused about—”
“We’re a fetish ranch, Oliver.Pony play.Human ponies.In leather harnesses and other…accoutrements.”
I blinked quickly, my eyes flitting from the tomato to the glass of water on my desk as my mouth went dry.
“Oh.I see.”
Holy…That wasnotwhere I thought this conversation was going.A fetish ranch?My mind conjured up bizarre images of people in horse costumes.I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Adam laughed again.“Look, why don’t I text you the link to our website, where we have some older images, and you can call me back if you’re interested.And just text me a ‘No, thanks’ if you’re not.”
That…made sense.My mind reeled from the information but also honed in razor-sharp on the fact that this would be a very different assignment from anything I’d done in the past.
“All right.That sounds fine.”
“I hope to hear from you within the next hour.But if I don’t, no harm, no foul.What we’d be looking for are updated, artistic images for the website and our brochures—maybe a selection of shots to sell in our gift shop.Have a look, and if you think you can work with us, call me back.At any rate, it was great to speak with you, Oliver.”
“Same, Mr.Marsland.”
“Adam.Please.”
“Okay.Thanks, Adam.I’ve got your text, so I’ll have a look.”
“Excellent.Hope to speak to you soon.”
I closed the call and clicked the link in the text from Adam.My browser opened, and a “Welcome” page loaded.
The Braided Crop Ranchscrolled in elegant but readable script overtop an idyllic scene of what looked like a regular farmhouse and barns in a woodland setting.Then a warning window popped up, informing me I had to be eighteen or older to enter the site.
Hmm.Well, I was thirty, so I clicked it.
Welcome to the Braided Crop Ranch.
A fetish farm for pony play enthusiasts…
And, okay, wow.I didn’t even finish reading the intro because my eyes were drawn to the photos below it.Photos that turned my initial intrigue into outright fascination.
The images were pretty good, honestly, but a bit on the amateur side.Anyway, it wasn’t the style of the photos that grabbed my attention, but their subjects.
I was no prude, and I had been involved in some fetish shoots in my time in this business.But those had been at cheesy, publicized events in the straight community, featuring stereotyped costuming and traditional BDSM props.It had been challenging to take photos that didn’t reflect on that fact and didn’t also sensationalize the subject matter.
Butthis…this looked like a pony play ranch forboys.Well, men, of course.But the word captioned on the images of these gorgeous young guys in very unique fetish-wear, wasponyboys.
I’d be lying if I said the word itself didn’t send a thrill down my spine and straight to my tightening balls.
Holy fucking shit.
So this was the Braided Crop Ranch, where Adam Marsland wanted me to spend my summer photographing ponyboys, and all the things they got up to?
I spent a few more minutes examining the photos of naked men in leather harness, with full horsehair tails cascading from their asses, and shiny, steel cages on their penises.They were entrancing in their uniqueness and the edgy, casual way the kink was presented.They weren’t trying tobehorses.They were men submitting to beingtreatedlike horses.And that made all the difference.
