Ponyboy
© S.B. 2025 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the author’s written permission is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication – free or otherwise -, except the author’s self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All the characters are over 18.
The sun hung low in the sky, a lazy orb spilling golden light across the polished surfaces of the advertising agency’s sleek lobby. It was a Saturday morning, and the once vibrant building buzzed with an eerie stillness, punctuated only by the soft hum of the air conditioning. Bleary-eyed and reluctantly dragged from the comfort of his weekend retreat, Dave found himself standing before the imposing glass doors of Andrea Mitchell’s office.
It was never a good sign when his boss called for an urgent meeting, saying it couldn’t wait. Many people who came before him had heard the same words just before getting fired, but she had nothing to be mad about, right? He was a good asset to the company – one of the best! Releasing him from his contract on a whim would be folly!
He adjusted his tie, feeling the constriction of the fabric around his neck as if it were a tightening noose. The clatter of his footsteps echoed against the marble floor as he made his way inside and saw the late forties slender brunette sitting behind her desk.
“Ah, Dave… Thank you for coming!” she declared. “I have great news.”
“That’s good,” he thought, a wave of relief washing over his thoughts. Still, what was so important that justified calling him to meet her on such short notice?
“I can’t wait to hear them, Mrs. Mitchell,” he said, reaching for a chair.
“Dave, please… How many times have I asked you to call me Andrea? Mrs. Mitchell makes me feel old.”
“Not enough to make me comfortable with the idea, Mrs. Mitchell. Please forgive me,” he replied.
“Hmm… Anyway, it’s a glorious day! Yesterday, Phoebe Wallenberg contacted me. She wants to do business with us!”
“The fashion billionaire?” Dave crossed his legs, unable to contain his surprise.
“The one and only. And we have you to thank for it.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Miss Wallenberg saw the ad campaign you created for her competitor’s new shoe collection and wants you to bring the same energy to her new designs to be revealed next Spring. She’s giving us privileged access to all her secrets for a multi-million dollar deal set to eclipse anything ever done in the industry! This is insane and is going to make us a fortune! Congratulations, Dave. You’ve earned it!”
The enormity of the moment washed over him like a tidal wave, sweeping away the remnants of his morning anxiety. Dave’s heart raced as he processed her words. “I… I can’t believe it,” he stammered, his mind dancing with visions of glistening awards and accolades. “This is incredible! Phoebe Wallenberg is a legend in fashion. An opportunity like this…”
“Can’t be squandered,” Andrea interjected, her voice steady but laced with uncharacteristic urgency. Her eyes sparkled with ambition, though a shadow creased her brow. “But…” she hesitated for just a fraction too long.
“There’s a catch,” he completed her thoughts and she nodded in agreement.
“Yes, you see… Miss Wallenberg is a woman with… peculiar tastes. “The public doesn’t know a thing about them, but they’re no secret to those in the business. She’s looking forward to working with you on the campaign but wants something else from you too. I hope I can count on you to fulfill her wishes because, as you said, this is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. We all need to be prepared to make some sacrifices, right?”
“What sort of sacrifices?” Dave leaned forward, sensing that the other shoe was about to drop. The room was much colder and more oppressive now as if what was about to be revealed was too ghastly for words.
“Sexual sacrifices,” Andrea interlocked her fingers and waited for his reaction.
“Huh? Don’t tell me she wants to fuck me!”
“Yes, and no. Miss Wallenberg has developed a taste for hypnosis over the years and she loves to mess with people’s heads. When she saw your face, she concluded you were perfect for a game she had in mind.”
“What sort of game? Mrs. Mitchell, please tell me what’s this all about!”
“She wants to use you as her ponyboy for a weekend,” she replied. You’ll be entranced most of the time, and you’re forbidden to ever mention this little experience to anyone else. Can you imagine the scandal if her kinks came out in the open? That’s the deal, Dave. I know it’s unusual, but can I count on you to secure this deal?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he growled.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s no way that’s a real business proposition!”
“Oh, it’s real, and her lawyers are already drafting a contract. Miss Wallenberg knows what she likes and always gets what she wants. That’s how she became a billionaire! If you don’t do this, we lose our chance to work with her and all the additional connections that come with the job. You need to take one for the team and let her take the reins for a while.”
“But I don’t want to become a horse! I’m not into kinky shit.”
“I’m afraid that’s irrelevant. Think of the prestige you’ll get when your campaign goes worldwide. Everyone will want to work with you! All the riches in the world are waiting for you if you let go of your ego for a weekend!”
The words hung in the air, heavy like the dense fog rolling in from the bay just beyond the office windows. Dave stared at Andrea, disbelief and intrigue swirling within him. The office faded into an indistinct blur as he tried to grasp the magnitude of the proposal. He envisioned luxury cars, high-rise penthouses, and glamorous parties filled with celebrities – an intoxicating life just out of reach. He could have all that for forty-eight hours as a…
“Ponyboy,” he muttered, letting the term roll over his tongue as if tasting a forbidden fruit. It was absurd! Yet, a spark of audacity in her words drew a part of him to the madness.
What did it mean? Would he be adorned in lavish costumes, prancing about under Wallenberg’s gaze? Would she make him trot and whip his ass if he didn’t comply? How much of it would he remember afterward? So many questions, so few answers, and a multitude of promises turning his thoughts to mush.
“Fine, I’ll do it!” he said after a moment of silence. “But only if no one knows about this, like you said.”
“They won’t. The people who work for Miss Wallenberg won’t let anything jeopardize her fame and fortune. Your secret is safe.”
“Okay.”
Andrea rubbed her hands. Now, there was a hard-working woman who understood the price of success. With the proper motivation, he would be the best pet ever.
Of course, if Phoebe liked him for real, there was always a chance he would stay at her mansion longer than a weekend – perhaps even the rest of his life! – but he didn’t need to know that. Smiling from cheek to cheek, the businesswoman glanced at her laptop, waiting for that contract to arrive.
THE END
A new daily challenge. The goal is to create 365 new pieces of flash fiction dealing with themes of femdom, hypnosis, and mind control. Inspiration will come from all over the place, including your suggestions. Credit will be given to everyone who suggests something for me to write about.
I’m doing a test run of this feature in January 2025 to prove I can do it. If you want the challenge to continue until the end of the year, help me achieve my Patreon goal of $250 a month.
