We get two hours' sleep. I don't want her to get her bearings. The black coffee helps a bit. Not surprisingly, she's asleep when I enter the room. Carefully, without waking her, I untie her. She moans and stirs, but doesn't wake. I let her sleep awhile longer as I prepare for the day's activities.

Finally, I wake her. She comes around slowly, making the childish, complaining noises of one that wants to get just a little more sleep. I find it charming. Finally, she wakes and surprised to find her limbs free, looks up at me questioningly. I pull up a chair and sit.

"Kneel at my feet, slave," I say. She doesn't hesitate. She looks up at me, remembering the previous day - or what she believes was the previous day - and is visibly confused by her feelings for me. I smile.

"Good slave," I say. She blushes, remembering her words. "Today," I tell her, "We kill two birds with one stone. It's hard to get any exercise when you're tied up all the time. Do you know what a ponygirl is?" She shakes her head. "It's a discipline that slavegirls must master. It's very demanding, both physically and as a discipline." I put her costume on the bed. "Put these on," I tell her. She obeys.

Finished, she wears stiletto heeled leather ankle-length boots, black rubber hose and shoulder-length gloves, and a black leather collar.

The rest, I put on her. We start with a black leather combination corset-bustier with red detailing. I have her straddle the chair. I lace up the corset and pull the laces as tight as I can. Finished, I can put both hands around her waist and touch both fingers and thumbs. Her tits are lifted and pressed together, creating a beautiful cleavage. I have her stand and spread her legs. I strap a harness around her constricted waist. A blonde horse-hair tail hangs from the back, as well as a second thin strap with two dildos attached. I slip the dildos up her ass and pussy and strap them in. Her arms are zipped behind her in a black singleglove, the straps of which run over the shoulders and cross over her tits. Finally, I put the head-harness on. It's a bitgag with attached blinders and long white feathers that stand up in the air. The bit has reins attached and, finished, I stand behind her, the reins in my hands.

"Do you think you know what a ponygirl is now?" I ask, laughing. She nods her head. I snap the reins and say, "tch-tch," and she begins walking. Using the reins, I lead her out of the room to the second, larger room.

This room is like a gymnasium, bright and high ceilinged. The floor is polyurethane, allowing her heels to gain purchase. I guide her over to a rickshaw, stopping her in front of it. Guiding her by the shoulders, I have her stand with her back to the rickshaw, between the poles used to pull it. She watches as I use padlocks to lock the poles to rings set in the harness around her waist. Finally, I sit in the rickshaw, holding a long crop and the reins in my hands. I snap the reins, saying "tch tch," again and she pulls the rickshaw. I snap her bare ass with the crop.

"Lift those legs up high!" I shout, smacking her again, "Higher!" She does as she's told, marching around the room as I guide her with the reins, the white plumes waving. I use the crop again. "Back straight! Eyes straight ahead! Chest out!" I shout, "Smooth, fluid movements - you're moving like an old cow!" She's panting now, working hard.

Her ass ripples as the crop hits it. "Faster!" I tell her, "Keep those legs high! Chin up!" She's running now, the dildos moving inside her, as I guide her around and around the room. She's gasping now, but I spur her on with the crop. Finally, when I'm sure she's about to collapse, I pull back on the reins, shouting, "Whoa!". She falls to her knees, gasping for breath, red in the face. The corset intensifies her breathlessness. I've designed the head harness so that I can remove the bit without removing the harness. I do this and set a water bottle on the floor in front of her. She bends and sips from it. I pet her hair as she does so.

"You need a lot of work," I tell her, wiping her face with a towel soaked in icewater, "But you wear it well." She looks up at me.

"Thank you Sir," she gasps, "slave will try to do better." I pet her hair. She's slipping into her role nicely. I suspect she's a natural, a submissive - she may not even know it.

We work for hours, taking frequent breaks. At the end, although she's dead on her feet, she canters like a Lippezanner. Sweat glistens on her body, the plumes bob and wave, her heels echo with steady rythm off the high ceiling, and her backside practically glows red. When I stop her for a rest, she drops to her knees. I can tell that she'd love to lay down, but the poles locked to the corset prevent it. I unlock her and she falls onto her side. I take off the head-harness and the singleglove, but leave the harness around her waist on, keeping the dildos inside her. She thanks me breathlessly. I hand her the water bottle, she sits up, sipping it. I tell her to lay on her stomach and I unlace the corset, removing it. She sighs with relief and breathes deeply. I help her to her feet and lead her back into the other room, helping her take off the rest of the costume once she was seated on the bed.

"Lie back and relax," I tell her, going to a cabinet and fetching a bottle and a hypodermic. She looks at the needle fearfully.

"What's that?" she asks.

"Vitamin B12," I tell her, "It'll help your exhaustion." She looks at me warily.

"How do I... How does slave know it's not some drug?" she asks. I smile.

"You'll have to trust me," I tell her, "But you need this. I know, I'm a doctor. If you want, I could dissolve some brewer's yeast in orange juice, but it's not nearly as effective and it tastes lousy." I see her jaw drop.

"A doctor?" she asks, her eyes wide. I fill the hypo, carefully measuring the dosage and tapping the side with my finger to work the air out.

"Yes," I answer, "General Practitioner, minored in psychology. That's why I'm the best in the business. Well, it's up to you... Injected or ingested?"

"Why not just make slave take the shot?" she asks - they all do.

"I want you to trust me," I answer. She considers for a moment.

"I'll take the shot," she answers.

"Good," I tell her, swabbing alcohol on her arm, "This won't hurt much." I smile. "Don't get used to me saying that."

She laughs.

I'm definitely making headway.