She tried to look over at her arms as she poked her fingers at the sheath that had been pulled up and fastened over her arms and hands. She actually found a small space where she could see the tip of one finger extending maybe a quarter of an inch. That was not going to help much. She looked again at the other ponies. The two clearly more experienced ponies seemed indifferent to their nudity as well as to the distress of the others around them. One of them would occasionally look over at the other girls with a somewhat knowing, they will learn look. Neither of them even paid attention as the coffle of chained slave girls was pulled across the floor and out the door on the far side of the warehouse. Jen did note when the door was open that it went to the outside. That might be useful information later, when she figured out a way to get free of her restraints. It was so frustrating that she was being held in place by something as simple as a single line attached to her bridle.

The girl next to Jen had also watched the parade of chained girls exit the room. After taking a quick look around the room she moved forward and Jen watched as she used the ends of her bit to try to catch and loosen the line wrapped around the hitching post. She paused to look up at Jen then continued. Jen liked the idea and moved forward to try the same. But the cinch on her line was behind the pole and lower down. There was no way she could get any leverage at all. On the other hand, the girl next to her seemed to be making some progress. Jen could see some slack in the line, but when the girl backed up she might gain a few inches but it would tighten the line forcing her to move forward and start all over again. Jen tried to say “I’ll help you.” But even Jen couldn’t understand what she had said. So she just moved her harnessed head over to where the girl’s line was wrapped and started to work on it. She tried to signal with her head for the girl to pull back and take up the slack as Jen created it. She figured out the signal and moved back putting some, but not heavy pressure on the line. It was actually working. They had increased her distance from the pole from the four feet at which she was at first tied to almost eight feet. Only another foot or so and the line should pull completely free. There was a sharp burning pain on Jen’s thigh.

Jen was so engrossed in what she was doing that she had not noticed the return of the trainers. This time the whip had made contact with her skin and it set to rest her thought that she did not want to feel it. Now that she had felt it she really didn’t want to feel it again. She immediately stopped what she was doing and straightened up.

“Some very clever ponies it seems.” Her trainer said to the trainer for the other girl. Meanwhile the other girl shrank back to the length of the lead as her trainer unwrapped the balance of it from the pole. She pulled the girl over to the side not even bothering to release her hobble. This almost made her fall over, but she managed to quickly shuffle to the desired spot. The trainer then produced a pair of hospital scissors and began to cut away the clothing of the girl. She cut the shorts up both sides then pulled and tugged them out from under the rather tight fitting belt and crotch strap. She used the same approach to the cotton shirt and sports bra cutting from the bottom up to a strap, then pulling the shirt up above the strap to reveal the cut area and then continuing until she had emerged at her arm. Then she cut the outer sleeve from end to the neck. At this point she was again able to yank the clothing free. All of the ruined clothing went into a pile on the ground.

Jen heard angry huffs and suppressed screams as she looked over to see the same process being employed on Abby. Abby was fighting for all she was worth, but the resistance was little more than symbolic restrained as she was. Before long her perfectly formed breasts were fully exposed and her crotch was protected only by the wide leather strap of the harness. The skin of her flanks was now fully exposed all the way to her belt. Jen didn’t bother to fight as she felt the hands of her trainer strip away her clothes leaving her also naked but for her harness and restraints.

Jen’s trainer connected a chain about 5” in length between the loops at the top of her boots, just below her knees and then removed the hobble. Jen thought of trying to kick her, but could see little to gain from it, besides the new knee hobble pretty well removed that option. The trainer then released her lead from the pole. But before pulling Jen away she reached out and grabbed one of her breasts. She squeezed it lightly then ran her finger over the nipple. “Let’s go get these ringed shall we?” She turned and started to pull on Jen’s lead.

“Ringed?” They were going to pierce her!!! Jen had not even pierced her ears until she was in High School. Even then she couldn’t sleep for two days before because she was so frightened. She didn’t want anything else pierced. She especially didn’t want her nipples pierced. “NO!” She screamed into her bit and she shook her head back and forth.

The trainer actually laughed. “Oh, you will look so pretty with nice rings there. Besides we need something to attach your bells to. Come on.” She gave a firm tug on the line and Jen started to move forward after her. Now, for the first time since this started, she could feel tears in her eyes – she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop what was about to happen to her.

They entered through the door the slave coffle had exited. Around the room were a series of cubicles. Each had equipment of some kind. Jen was pulled forward into one that had a padded frame. Using her lead line her trainer pulled her forward until she made contact with the frame. A padded concave bar met her neck, another crossed her chest above her breasts, a third just below them, and the fourth at her waist. Each bar had a strap that was wrapped around Jen’s body and fastened on the other side holding her tight to the frame yet exposing most of her body. The hobble chain was removed and two concave plates were positioned against each of her thighs and buckled in three places from just below her buttocks to just above her knees. Another curved bar extending up with two small bars from the neck bar accepted Jen’s forehead which was then strapped in place holding her head firmly in place. She heard the trainer behind her and then felt small chains attached to her ankles and fastened to rings in the floor. She was as close to motionless as she could ever imagine being.

To her horror the trainer then removed the front portion of the belt that, after the removal of her shorts, was the only thing covering what she considered to be the most private part of her body. When the trainer then examined her sex she felt herself flush with embarrassment and tried to voice her protest. “You just relax; I’ll get a groom in here to clean you up.” With that, leaving her sex exposed the trainer left. Jen was facing into the cubicle so she could not see what was going on behind her. She was thankful that she was not faced the other direction so that everyone who came in could see her. She did not know what else was happening in other parts of the room, but it sounded like other ponies were being brought in and fastened in their own cubicles. Jen twisted and pulled at the new restraints, but every belt held – she was tightly held. There was nothing she could do but stand there and wait for whatever it was they were going to do to her.

Jen heard what sounded like a heavy bucket of water being put down close behind her. She could hear the slosh of the water, but because she could not turn her head she could not see who had arrived. She assumed it was the “groom” the trainer had spoken of. The groom reached between her legs and finished removing the part of the harness that up until a moment ago had covered her sex. It seemed to disappear, being removed from the back of her belt as well. Now her naked rear was fully exposed as well. The groom used a washing mitt to dip into the bucket and then wash Jen’s exposed skin, which was quite frankly most of her. She paid special attention between Jen’s legs even intruding up into her anal and vaginal cavity a short distance. This made Jen squeal and squirm, but she could do nothing to escape the hands.

Then the groom came around in front of her and knelt down. The groom was a small, young girl, not well developed, perhaps nineteen, but a young looking nineteen. She was completely naked except for a metal collar that seemed permanently attached to her neck, a similar metal belt and cuffs at her wrists and ankles. Her wrists were joined by a chain that fed through a loop in the front of her belt. Her ankles similarly were chained. The cuffs and chains looked utilitarian. They were not the fancy restraints she had seen earlier on the slave girl coffle. It appeared to Jen that this girl had been in chains for some time because she seemed oblivious to them as if they were normal attire. She did not look up at Jen although Jen tried to make sounds to get her attention. Instead she focused on the task at hand, which was to lather shaving cream on Jen’s small triangle of hair between her legs and then go to work with a razor. When she was finished all of the hair had been removed. She cleaned up with the wash mitt and then walked around behind her again. She then wiped Jen down with a soft towel.

Jen’s hair was in a pony tail that extended from high on her head. The groom opened the pony tail and without removing the bridle or bit did her best to comb out Jen’s hair before putting it back in the pony tail. The groom was not gagged, but she never said a word to Jen the entire time she worked. Even though Jen tried to get her attention she did not acknowledge in any way, she did not even make eye contact. When she was done she collected her supplies and was gone.

Once again Jen was left standing helplessly wondering what would be next. She knew, but could not bring herself to think about that. She had expected a very Goth looking person heavily tattooed to arrive. Instead a smart looking blonde wearing a white smock and carrying a tray of instruments walked up in front of her and put the tray down on a table. She then came over to Jen and inspected each of her breasts, squeezing them, poking at the nipples and taking each of them between her thumb and finger. Then she took a device doctors used to look in your ears and nose and looked up each of Jen’s nasal passages. When she was done she held her nose between her fingers and moved it back and forth looking in this time without the aid of any instrument. Finally she got down on a knee and poked and prodded at Jen’s vagina. Jen felt her take each of her labia in her hands, squeeze them and pull them out one by one. Jen could feel her fingers on her clitoris. This made her jump. Nobody but Jen had ever touched this part of her body, and she always felt guilty when she did, but it was all just matter of business for this woman.

The inspection completed the woman took a cotton swab, poured something on to it and cleansed each of Jen’s nipples. Jen watched in horror then as she picked up something that looked like medical forceps. Using one hand to collect and compress the flesh of Jen’s breast at and just behind the nipple she attached the forceps locking then down so that it held Jen’s right nipple. The woman then picked up a needle that to Jen at this point looked huge and pushed it through the breast in between the forceps open ends. Jen had expected excruciating pain. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as she had expected. The woman carefully checked the location of the entry and exit hole and then deciding she was satisfied removed the forceps and pulled about a 1” ring through the nipple. Jen had been ringed. Without pausing to even admire her work she then went to work on the other breast. To Jen’s surprise this one hurt much more than the other. She was not sure why that was, but it caused her to scream out.

As the woman stepped back Jen now had rings in both nipples. She was so thankful that that was over, but the woman was not picking up her things and leaving. Instead she had picked up another tool that looked like the kind of punch that is used in leather work. Jen screamed into her bit as she realized what was about to happen. She tried to twist her head from side to side. She tried to pull her head back, but it was held tight. The tool was inserted into her nose so that it embraced the septum from each side. Jen could hear the sound of the cartilage give way as the woman punched a hole. This had not hurt a lot, but it was mortifying. She then took another type of tool and connected small metal grommets into the hole in her septum from each side. This would keep the hole open and make it stronger. No ring was attached at this time.

Jen remembered the other inspection conducted by this woman and started to wail. Without the slightest notice the woman returned with her forceps and needles and went to work between Jen’s legs. Jen’s head was held up so she could not see what was going on, but she could feel it. When the woman was done Jen had three rings on each labia and one behind her clitoris. Only then did the woman collect her tools and leave. Jen had been in such shock at what was happening to her that she had hardly felt these last seven piercings. She was not even exactly sure how many times she had been pierced down there, but she knew it was more than a couple.

Jen’s mind was reeling. What had happened? She did not know what time it was, but it has been less than a full day since she and Abby showed up for their new ‘fun filled summer job’. She could never even have imagined something like this happening to her. Damn Abby and her impulsiveness. She had gotten then in some dicey situations before, but she had also always been able to talk them out of things. Jen did not think that was going to work this time. With this damn bridle and bit they could not even talk. She worked the bit with her tongue. The flat bar, almost a brank, was the most bothersome. She could push it up with her tongue so long as no one was pulling on her reins, but it was always there and interfered with any intelligible effort to speak.

Jen was so busy feeling sorry for herself that she did not realize that the groom was back. She felt the belts that held her to the frame being removed. The groom replaced the hobble at her knees and then helped her stand up free of the frame. She carefully checked each strap of the harness to make sure it was properly in place. She had not replaced the portion that ran between Jen’s legs and she did not do it now. Instead she turned Jen around so she was facing back into the room and then to Jen’s horror clipped a lead to Jen’s clit ring. Free from the frame Jen could now look down and see what had been done to her. But just as she was trying to see each detail she saw the line go tight and felt the jerk on her clitoris. She almost fell over jumping forward to relieve the sudden pressure. That hurt. It hurt a lot. It also felt so invasive. This was as personal a part of her body as she could think of and these people had put a ring through it and now, apparently, intended to lead her around by it. How could anyone do this to her? How could anyone do this to anyone? But the more immediate concern was that they had, and she was absolutely compelled to quickly shuffle along behind the small girl who was pulling her forward by her most personal region. While her ankles were free she was hobbled at the knees with a five inch line. This made keeping pace difficult. It also made her progress jerky which caused the line to pull and jerk on her most tender and private part. She did not look ahead, but concentrated instead on that damn line doing her best to keep up with it.

After a distance Jen became aware that they were heading down a corridor that had gates about shoulder high on each side. She could sense movement behind some of the gates. The groom stopped at a gate and swung it open. Jen looked around and realized they were in a stable. A stable? Really? This pony thing was really getting out of hand. But when the line jerked at her clitoris she jumped forward in obedience entering her stall. The groom positioned her in the middle of the stall, turned her to face the gate and then clipped a line from each side of her collar to each side of the stall. The lines were anchored low enough on the wall and sufficiently slack to allow her to stand, sit or even lie on the floor, but not to reach either the front, back or either side of the stall. The floor of the stall was concrete with a light covering of straw. The walls were too high to see if there was anyone in either stall next to her. She did not see anyone in the stall across, but if they were not standing she would not have seen them. Near Jen on the floor was a pan of water. If Jen knelt she could reach it with her head. Next to that pan was another filled with bite sized pellets of some sort. Jen assumed these were food. Jen was relieved when the groom removed the bridle and bit and hung them on a hook near the front of her stall. Then the groom left, closing and latching the gate. The gate did not have a lock on it, but that didn’t matter. Even if Jen was not reined to the sides of the stall she would not have been able to open the stall. Jen resisted saying anything to the groom as she finished her work and left. As before, the groom never even bothered to look into Jen’s face.

Jen was very thirsty and a bit hungry. She got to her knees and did her best to suck up water from the bowl. Then she turned her attention to taking some food pellets in her mouth and eating them. They were pretty much flavorless but they helped assuage the hunger pangs. When she was done she knelt there on the floor. She needed to figure out a way to get out of here. Her arms were still strapped and encased behind her. She tried to pull at each one in turn, but there was no movement. She tried to move her hands inside the covering, but she could not find anything with her fingers that could be manipulated in anyway. Without someone else’s assistance she did not see how she was going to get her arms free. Never-the-less, if she could get free of the reins and somehow get the door open she could still walk. The hobble had been removed. She followed the lines from her collar over to each wall with her eyes. They were only secured around a cleat and tied off. If she could get to one, without the bit in her mouth she could use her teeth to free it. She tried to move toward the wall. She got within about 12 inches of the cleat before the line from the other wall stopped her progress. By turning her body sidewise she could just brush the cleat with her encased lower arms, but not enough to cause any of the line to loosen. She tried the opposite wall with the same result. They seemed to know just how long to make the line.

She went back to the middle of the stall and knelt down. She was convinced that they were going to leave her here until morning. Even with a little straw the floor did not look very comfortable, but right now her need was to go to the bathroom. They had not given her a bathroom break the entire time she had been here and right now she really needed to pee. She expected at least a bucket of some sort for this purpose, but there was nothing like that in the stall. She was not going to be able to make it until morning. After she had held about as long as she could she realized that like a real pony she was expected to just go in her stall. The straw wasn’t there for her comfort. It was there to soak up her waste. But she wasn’t a real pony. She could not sleep standing up. She was going to have to lie on the floor and she didn’t want to lie in her own waste. She finally moved as far back and to one side as she good, spread her legs and let it go. She was not accustomed to peeing standing up so a good amount ended up running down the inside of her legs, but there was nothing she could do about that. She was just happy that she had only had to pee, at least for now.

Jen heard sounds outside her stall. She quickly stood and did her best to look over the stall door. She was just in time to see another groom go by leading another pony. It was Abby. Jen could only see her head, and only for a brief moment, but it was definitely her. Her movements were jerky and she heard squeals telling her that the groom was jerking on the lead chain. Abby was throwing her head back and forth. It sounded like she was taken into the stall next to Jen. After what seemed like a long time Jen saw the groom walk back up the corridor. She waited for several minutes thereafter to make sure she was gone.

“Abby?” She called out, not loudly, but enough to be heard. Nothing.

“Abby, is that you?” She tried again.

“Jen?” Came the response from her right.

“Abby, are you alright?”

“I am so sorry for getting us into this. I tried to resist them, but they put the whip to me. I could only take it for a short time and then I gave in. I must have really made them mad because they put rings in my sex. They even pierced my clitoris. I can’t believe that did that.”

“They did the same to me. I think it is just part of what they do.”

“We have to get out of here. Can you help me? My arms are completely useless.”

“No, I am helpless too. They even have me leashed to the walls of the stall. I tried to release the lines but without luck.” Jen responded.

“My God, what are we going to do? I don’t think they have any intention of letting us go. We are still in the US now, but what happens if they get us to some island in a foreign country? I think they have a ship in the harbor. If they get us on that ship I think we are in big trouble.”

How much more trouble can we be in Jen thought in response, but kept the thought to herself. “We are going to have to keep alert and watch for an opening. If someone can get free and get help these people will go to jail forever for this.”

“I need to try to get some rest and think.” Jen agreed with this assessment from Abby and said no more. She knelt back down and tried to find a comfortable dry position on the hard floor. Her arms and shoulders ached from being restricted for so many hours. She attempted to shift her arms and pull at them within the limits of her restraints but found no relief from the dull aching. But, she was very tired and at some point in spite of the hard concrete floor, the ache in her arms and shoulders, and waves of fear, panic and near despair that would wash over her she drifted off.

There were noises, the sound of movement and voices, undistinguishable, but voices. It was light. Natural light replaced the electric glow of the night. Jen struggled up to a sitting position and looked at her surroundings. She could see a mark on the floor where her body had been. It was just one of many other marks and stains. She could see the soiled straw where she had relieved herself the night before. The side walls of the stall were wood, painted, very obviously, a long time ago, in a dark grayish color, or maybe it had just become gray with age. There were signs of many years of use and wear. The wood had not been fully protected from insect damage and perhaps the hoofs of earlier occupants with longer and much stronger legs. The surrounding prospect was even drearier than it had appeared when she was ensconced here.

Her water dish was empty and about two thirds of the food product that had been in the other dish was gone. She only vaguely remembered eating and drinking, but she must have. That was good. She was hungry, but the food did not look inviting enough to cause her to return to it. She was thirsty, but there was little she could do about that.

She looked at the stall gate. It cleared the floor at the bottom by at least a foot, but there was nothing to be seen there. It was rounded at the top being slightly higher in the middle than at the bottom. From where she sat the top looked very high, but she already knew that standing it was just below her eye level. It opened out so that the hinges and the latch were on the outside, out of view, and clearly beyond her reach – if she could even get to them. It was sturdy, three two by fours horizontal, two vertical and two more forming an X across the center. Signs of wear to the top and upper braces did not make it look any less sturdy. It was the same dismal gray as the walls. Her bridle and bit hung from a hook by the gate.

She looked down at herself. She was a complete disaster. Her hair was matted and disheveled; dirt from the floor covered her legs and torso; crusted spots on her inner thighs and legs gave evidence to the conditions under which she had been forced to perform normal bodily functions. She needed a hot bath – she needed to get her arms back. The pain had stopped, but as soon as she started to move around and work her way up to a sitting position the ache was back. Then there was the frustration of not being able to use her hands. She twisted and pulled and shook her arms and upper body – nothing – it was just as unforgiving as the day before. She had no arms, no hands. She looked to her right and left at the leashes attached to cleats on the walls. She pulled against the leashes first one then the other. The clips attached to her collar were not coming loose and neither were the lines from the cleats. She was still helplessly held.

She wanted to call out to Abby and see how she had survived the night but thought better of calling attention to herself. She didn’t want to be where she was, but she didn’t want to be back under the control of the trainer either. What other horrific things would they do next?

There was a sound at her gate. The bolt on the outside was being slid out of place. Then the door was opened. She looked into the open space with as defiant a look as she could muster in her otherwise pathetic appearance. It was the little blonde groom with her bucket and cleaning glove. Jen’s attempt at a stern look faded. This poor girl was just there to perform her required tasks and would probably be punished if she failed in any way. Jen did not want that to happen. Besides, even a sponge bath was inviting right now. Jen had always been fastidious about her personal hygiene. She had gone camping with friends a couple of times and hated the grimy feeling the morning after sleeping in the woods, especially when she knew that no bath or shower was available. But this was worse. The feeling of grime was similar but the sense of helplessness that accompanied along with the feeling of having been abused and degraded was so much more significant. Without prompting she stood and waited for the groom to wash away the dirt and grime from her night. It actually felt good, even when the gloved hand touched and even seemed to explore parts of Jen’s body that she did not normally let others touch.

The groom was careful to work around Jen’s harness loosening and lifting the straps one way and then the other to make sure the skin below was cleaned. She removed the outer sleeve covering her arms so she could wash there, but to Jen’s great disappointment she did not release the straps holding Jen’s arms and wrists. Instead she checked these to make sure they were tight enough but not cutting her circulation. She dried Jen’s body with large towels. After cleaning her body she signaled with touches on Jen’s shoulders to kneel. Jen did and the groom went to work on her hair. She used the bucket to wet, shampoo, and rinse, then worked with large towels to dry. Her attention never stopped until she felt it was dry enough to start to apply a brush carefully working the full length of every part of it. Finally she gathered it together and pulled it into a pony tail high on the back of Jen’s head.

The groom pulled out a plastic bottle of water and held it to Jen’s lips. Jen anxiously drank. As she drank she realized just how thirsty she was. She finished most of a bottle of water before it was taken from her lips. Then the groom opened a small kit and began applying make-up to Jen’s face and upper body. There was no mirror so she could not see, but her impression was that the make-up was understated, designed to enhance her natural look. This was the only time that the groom looked into Jen’s face and even then in reality she looked at her face more than looked into her face. There was no sense of human contact. Jen might as well have been a pot that was being painted.

Through this entire process Jen did not say a word and neither did the groom. Without uttering a sound, the groom had communicated that it would not be appropriate or acceptable for Jen to speak so she did not. But even the opportunity was soon gone. The groom fetched the bridle from the hook on the wall and carefully strapped it over Jen’s head, adjusting and tightening the straps until she was satisfied. The bit was still in place and was returned to her mouth as soon as the bridle was placed over her head. Jen did not want that hated thing back in her mouth, but she knew there was no choice so she opened her mouth and received it. As she felt the metal of the plate on her tongue she decided she was not going to agree and was not going to have that thing in her mouth. She wildly shook her head back and forth and up and down while pushing at the bit with her tongue. Of course, once in place there was no changing her mind. She quickly gave up on any resistance. The bridle and bit would stay in place until THEY decided to remove it, or by some miracle she retrieved the use of her hands. The latter seemed very unlikely. Now she wished she had tried to talk to Abby this morning. She hoped she would at least see her.

After giving Jen a final check over, checking, tightening, and adjusting the straps of her harness, replacing the cover over her arms, and checking and even spotting her make-up, the groom opened another box she had brought with her and Jen heard the tinkling of a bell. The groom withdrew two small silver closed bells, like the kind seen on sleighs at the holidays. Each was about three quarters of an inch in diameter. There must have been a small clip on the end because the groom was able to clip one to each ring in each breast. Jen did not like this. It felt degrading. She looked down at the two bells adorning her ample breasts and did not want them there at all. If her hands had been free she would have pulled them off, but that was not an option. Involuntarily she shook her breasts back and forth trying to dislodge them. This evoked a musical ringing from each bell but neither released its grip or showed any sign of doing so. Jen could not remove the bells. She stomped her foot in frustration and snorted. The trainers would have laughed at these machinations, but the little groom paid no notice. Instead she returned to the box and withdrew a somewhat larger bell tied to a blue ribbon with two ends extending about eight inches each. The groom knelt down and Jen could feel her feeding the ribbons up through the new rings on each labia. After she had fed it through all three rings on each side she brought the ends together and tied a nice neat bow. Jen could feel the weight of the bells on her breasts, but only barely. This bell was heavier and pulled on a part of her body that should not have anything pulling on it. She could also feel the bell itself resting against the top of her legs as she stood there. As much as she wanted the bells removed from her breasts this one was really over the top. She stood perfectly still staring down at it as if she could will it to vanish. Instead as she focused on her anatomy where her legs met the hand of the groom came forward with yet another bell, this one about the size of the small ones on her breasts and before she could even turn or twist clipped it to the ring at her clitoris. As with her breasts the weight was not significant, but the idea of having her sex belled was a blow to her sense of dignity.

Jen wondered what was happening in the stall next door. She assumed, correctly as it turned out, that the same thing was happening to Abby. She felt sorry for the groom assigned that task. She was sure that there would have been at least kicks and heroic struggles – interestingly she had heard no sign of commotion. Maybe it was yet to come. Then she heard the tinkle of bells and watched as another groom led Abby down the hallway past the door to her stall. Four bells tinkled and chimed as Abby docilely followed the single rein attached to her bit walking behind her groom. As if that were a signal to Jen’s groom the reins attached to her collar were unclipped and a new rein was clipped to the ring on her bridle. The groom turned and walked into the hallway between the stalls, giving the rein a light tug. No more was needed, Jen walked forward, following. She was on an ankle hobble so she had to shuffle along but she did her best to keep up. The shuffling motion created extra jerks and twists that kept her bells chiming. She could see and hear Abby shuffling along not too far ahead.

They exited through a door into the arena. They were each led back toward the hitching post near the employee break area. One other team, the tall, perhaps more experienced blonde ponies, already waited patiently at the bar. As Jen and Abby shuffled toward the post accompanied by the sounds of their bells one of the tall ponies turned and looked at them. Jen saw a smile creep across this pony’s face as Jen noticed that they were not belled as she and her partner were. Obviously, even another subdued creature found these adornments demeaning. As she was pulled up and secured to the post next to the smiling pony Jen wanted very much to do something to show her anger. She considered kicking or even biting her, but with her feet hobbled and her mouth bridled neither option was available. All she could do was stare back defiantly.

Before she could give it more thought she realized that her trainer had arrived and was in the process of removing her rein from the post. Abby’s trainer had arrived as well and the two of them were led away from the hitching post toward a sulky of some kind. A single seat was set low on a metal frame base over two wire wheels. The seating area was not enclosed consisting primarily of the seat itself with a low back and two plates one level to the ground and the other set at an upward angle obviously providing a place for the rider to place their feet. To the right of the seat one of the dreaded buggy whips extended vertically, its handle held in a pipe converted to a holder. The sight of the whip caused Jen’s stomach to tighten. A single bar protruded forward from below the seat and foot area and then split into two U shaped yokes that now rested on the ground.

Jen was led to the right side, Abby to the left. Each of them was lined up next to each other near the forward part of the two yokes. The trainers then lifted the bar so that a yoke arm came up on each side of each girl. The arms of the yoke had some movement and Jen’s trainer quickly attached a bracket on the inside of each yoke arm to each side of Jen’s waist harness. She could feel only a slight downward pressure from the weight of the sulky, but there was no one in the seat yet. She wondered what the addition of a rider would add to the weight. In fact, as Jen would later learn the seat could be adjusted forward or back over the axle to bring the balance of the yoke almost completely even. A single light chain from the apex of the yoke was then brought forward and clipped to the back of Jen’s collar. It did not seem to limit her ability to lean forward. Only then was the hobble chain between her ankles removed. The trainer then attached a second rein to the other side of Jen’s bit and brought both reins back placing them across a bar just above the foot area and in front of the seat in the sulky. As soon as Abby’s trainer finished attaching her to the sulky’s yoke she added the second rein, brought it back to the seat area and then climbed into the seat. Jen’s trainer worked with a dial on the side of the seat observing the yoke arms until she was comfortable that near perfect balance had been obtained.

Jen felt the slack in the reins tighten then loosen somewhat. It was obvious that the trainer had picked up the reins. If she turned her head in either direction the rein from the other side tightened pulling down on the extension of the bit and putting pressure on her tongue. She looked forward and waited for the signal she knew was coming to move forward. She only hoped it did not come in the form of the bite of the buggy whip. It did not. She felt the reins go up and slap down on her shoulders; this was accompanied by a clicking sound the trainer made with her mouth. Jen knew this meant to go. She leaned forward to begin pulling the sulky, but Abby had not started at the same time the effect was to jerk Abby forward and jerk Jen back. Then Abby started to move forward, but Jen’s motion had been stopped reversing the process that had just happened. It was more difficult than Jen thought it would be. The sulky lurched and jerked pitching and yawing from side to side as the two of them tried to coordinate their efforts. The sulky was moving, but very slowly. Jen heard the whoosh; she knew the sound and tightened as she heard the pop, but it was accompanied by a squeal from Abby, who had been the recipient. Jen redoubled her efforts and leaned forward trying to pull harder. She leaned too far and the chain at the back of her neck ran out of slack and jerked her back. She missed a step and almost tumbled. The sulky lurched to the right. There was another whoosh and this time the snap and the bite happened simultaneously. It caught her high on her buttocks on the right flank. It hurt, it hurt a lot.

Jen eased off a bit and tried to look to her left to get in sync with Abby. Abby in turn was doing the same thing. Slowly they began to find a rhythm between them and the jerks and lurches became fewer in number. Just as the movement began to feel more natural Jen felt a pull on the right rein. It turned her head to the right and she naturally followed the direction turning her movement and the sulky direction until the pressure on the right rein was let up. With that she straightened away. They had turned about 90 degrees and it had been much smoother than she had expected. Because the turn was to the right Abby had had to move more quickly to match pace with the turn, but she had realized the need and adjusted her pace. Only twice during the execution of the turn had Jen felt herself jerked to one side or the other. The first, a jerk to the right, was because she had tried to turn too sharply. She realized she needed to keep in mind Abby’s ability to make the larger arc. The second, now to the left, was when Jen over adjusted and slowed her pace too much. Not bad for a first turn she thought to herself. She was actually proud of their performance.

They were now moving across the narrow part of the room and Jen knew they would have to make another turn soon. She began to anticipate starting to move toward her right. This got her a yank on the left rein and a more persuasive reminder in the form of a strike of the buggy whip on her left flank. She straightened their course back to the left. She would turn when she was signaled to turn and not before. It was not her job to decide where to go. But almost immediately there was a pull on the right rein. It was more the application of pressure and she matched the intensity of the pull turning slowly. There was plenty of room to execute the turn before getting to the wall and this turn was smoother than the last.

As they straightened out Jen realized that she and Abby needed to match their gait and actions for this to work smoothly. She tried to glance down at the movement of Abby’s legs and feet, but that did not work very well. Jen became more aware of the discordant cacophony of the bells adorning the bodies of the two girl ponies. She picked and focused on the sound of the larger bell, its ring deeper than the other smaller bells. It rang with the completion of the forward movement of each girl’s thigh. Jen concentrated on bringing the sounds of her bell into sync with Abby’s. She noticed that as the sounds of the two large bells became one the movement of the sulky smoothed and with the reduction in conflict speed began to increase. Soon there was, with rare exceptions, only the sound of one of the larger bells. This also brought the ringing of the smaller bells into rhythm. Jen’s and Abby’s build was very similar. Thus, as their legs came into rhythm the bouncing of their breasts also began to match giving a more concordant sound to the smaller bells. The sound was now pleasant.

As they began to near the end of the straightaway with a wall in front of them Jen once again found that she was drifting to her right – the way they would be forced to turn. She was rewarded again with the snap of the whip to her rear. She corrected with a jerk that interrupted the now synchronized movement causing Abby to jerk back the other direction before they once again found the rhythm, only then to be signaled to execute the right turn Jen had been anticipating. This 90 degree turn was sharper than the two before and not very smooth, but they were able to complete the turn and straighten out without over correction.

Even though they were now on a short leg (crossing the narrow part of the room) Jen held her line perfectly straight until the trainer signaled by use of the reins that it was time to execute the next turn. This turn was much smoother and Jen’s flesh was not rewarded with a visit from the tip of the whip.

As they straightened out and began down the long stretch Jen focused again on the sounds of the bells. Little sounds that she had not sensed before began to emerge. She became convinced she could tell the difference between Abby’s left leg and right leg movement. She looked down to confirm and it was correct. Either she could tell the difference or she was just lucky. In either event she was able to match her gait with Abby. This brought the tinkle of the breast bells into closer sync. These bells were not heavy, but the effect of them bouncing on the rings through Jen’s nipples had an erotic quality to it. This brought Jen’s attention to the small bell bouncing on the ring at her clitoris. As they moved up the long stretch of the building and maintained a fairly constant pace this movement began to have an effect of Jen. Her attention focused increasingly on the three small bells each now manipulating a sensitive part of her body. Her nipples had hardened. She wished she could touch herself. She had forgotten that her arms were not available. All she could do was try to enjoy and get the most from the movement of these bells each bouncing on its respective ring through a tender region of her flesh. The tingling feeling was now running throughout her body and she did not want it to stop, in fact she had almost closed her eyes in any event she had lost track of the fact that she was tethered to a sulky that she was now pulling around the confines of what was probably an old warehouse.

Jen’s reverie was interrupted by a sound to her right. She glanced over to see another sulky like the one she and Abby were pulling moving up even to them. Harnessed to the yoke of this sulky were the two tall blonde ponies. The one on the left, closest to Jen, gave her a bit of a smirk as they pulled ahead and then past Jen and Abby. But then they were into where they had turned before. The other sulky held its position before turning causing Jen and Abby to actually slow and move in behind them before they could execute the turn their trainer was now signaling.

As they came out of the turn Jen was close enough to the back of the other sulky to almost reach out and touch the rider – if she had arms and hands to reach out with that is. But the other sulky was moving away from them. Even in the short leg before the next turn the leading sulky picked up another 5 foot distance. But by the time they executed and came out of the turn and back into the straightaway the other sulky was almost 20 feet ahead. Jen’s trainer seemed to find this positioning unacceptable. She shook the reins up and down urging them on. There was the popping sound of the whip taking only air, then there was the snapping sound of the whip taking flesh and Jen knew that another red strip would show on her flank. But the trainer did not stop. Back and forth she commenced to lay the whip onto the two ponies pulling her sulky. Even though Jen was feeling winded from the distance she had pulled so far she leaned forward and increased the pace. Abby, obviously anxious to be relieved of the pain to her exposed flesh matched her gait.

The other sulky was in front, but they began to close the distance. At the urging of her trainer’s use of the reins – Jen did not make any change of direction on her own anymore – Jen moved slightly to the right and began to come up on the inside of the other sulky and team. As they went into the turn Jen and Abby were even with the rider of the other sulky, still a good length behind the other team, but their inside position brought them almost even as both teams came out of the turn. Jen was panting deeply now. The gentile sensuous ride of before forgotten, replaced by the need to pass this other team. Jen did not know why it was so important to her, but it was, besides, she did not like them. She did not like their superior air – they were ponies just like her and Abby. She did not like the condescending looks – they had no position to talk. She did not like their hoity attitude – they had not been belled, they had not even always been hobbled at the hitching post. But Jen had learned to love her bells. She was proud of them and she needed to show that she and Abby were better. Better right now meant faster and smoother. But the other team was very good. They were very tall, maybe only a couple of inches over Jen and Abby, but with very long legs and each of their strides added about 4-6 inches to the strides of Jen and Abby. They were also very strong. Jen could see the muscles in their legs, flanks, and back working as they ran. Neither seemed at all winded (although Jen suspected that they had started a lap behind her and Abby). And, they were clearly more experienced. Although Abby and Jen had learned to work together they had certainly not perfected it and as they tried to pick up speed they would pitch and yaw losing precious speed and energy. Somehow the other team moved effortlessly. It was as if each of the two knew exactly what the other was going to do at all times. Their movement was fluid, in fact it was beautiful.

As the other team pulled ahead Jen’s trainer once again laid on the whip but Jen and Abby had nothing more to give. They tried to push forward. They tried to even further increase the pace, but the opposite was happening, the pace was beginning to slow and even the encouragement of the bite of the whip did not change that. By the time they reached the end of the straightaway and were signaled into the first leg of the turn the other team had already completed the turn. By the time they exited the second half of the turn the other team was 40 to 50 feet ahead. The other team did not appear to be slowing or losing stride. If anything they were even further catching their rhythm and increasing their speed. Jen knew they could never catch them. She had been breathing heavily, but suddenly she was having trouble getting a breath, she could not go on. She slowed to a walk and then stopped. Abby had tried at first to jerk her forward by applying pressure to her side of the yoke, but when one half of the team stopped the entire team stopped. The trainer could easily diagnose the problem and worked the whip only on Jen until Jen started to move forward again, slowly, only at a walk, but when she did the whipping stopped. Jen realized that the trainer knew she could not go on, but needed her to walk it out.

As she walked slowly forward with her head down panting for breath the other sulky and team flew by on their right. This time the other ponies did not even look at them but their smugness dripped from their posture. Jen felt humiliated. They had been soundly beaten by the other team. Jen wondered how long they had been a team. How long would it take her and Abby to perform so smoothly, if ever? After all, this was just their second day of training. Certainly they would get better, a lot better.

But, wait a minute. She didn’t want to get better. She didn’t want to be here at all. These people had tricked her, they had taken her freedom; they had degraded and dehumanized her. They were determined to turn her into a pony. She had only agreed to play the role of a pony, not become one forever. She needed to stop focusing on being a good pony and start to think about how she was going to get out of this place.

Now moving at a walk around the inside of the building Jen was able to take a better look at her surroundings. She knew that if she was going to escape she needed to start planning, and a good plan required as much information on her surroundings as she could put together. The structure they were in was large. It clearly had once been a warehouse. Judging from the peak of the roof the open area that they were now in covered the entire length of the building and about two thirds of the width. The open area inside would fit a football field with some additional room on all four sides. There was probably a concrete floor, but it was fully covered with a sod or dirt layer. The outer portion was a track, the one she was pulling the sulky around. It was wide enough for two or three sulkies. Inside the ellipse of the track were a number of circular paddocks and several square pens. She had been in one of the paddocks during her training on the first day here. They were defined by the markings on the ground but did not have any sort of fence around them. Two of the paddocks were occupied by ponies working with trainers. It looked like these two ponies were a team. Jen did not know how long they had been here, but they both were doing a good job of lifting their legs high as the trotted around the radius proscribed by the length of the rein the trainer was holding. One of the paddocks had a small tower in the center. From the tower two poles extended about 10 feet in each direction parallel to the ground.

The pens were each enclosed by railed fences. Each pen had a gate on one side. They were all empty at this time. The top rail was about five feet off the ground, high enough to discourage and hold most animals that could not climb. Grimly she realized that at this time that category included both her and Abby.

The three walls of the large room that she believed to be exterior all had windows, but in every case they were high up, at least 15 feet off the ground. They let in light so you could tell if it was day or night and the general conditions outside, but it afforded no view from outside, nor did it help in determining what the outside was like. The long wall – that is the one she thought she entered through when she arrived – had large overhead type doors that looked as if they would open to 12 to 14 feet. They all had metal doors that could be wound up with a chain on one end. In every case the door was closed and the chain was padlocked in place. Several of these doors had another smaller door build into them, but each of these were closed and clearly held closed by a padlock. Near the middle of this wall was a single metal door. She was pretty sure this door opened into the parking area on the dock that she had seen when she arrived. She tried to picture it in her mind and wished she had paid better attention. The door was closed and although there were glass panes in the upper half they were frosted and appeared to be imbedded with wire. She did not expect that they would easily break out. She did not know if the door was locked but she did note that it had a deadbolt and the inside of the deadbolt was not a knob, but instead called for a key. She suspected that the outside was also keyed. Shouldn’t a building like this have fire exits? She certainly could see none in the three walls to the exterior. Nor were there the familiar exit signs that pointed to the required means of emergency escape in the case of a fire. She doubted that this place received many fire marshal inspections. She doubted that anyone in government even knew that there were people in here. When used for the purpose it was built the overhead doors would have been left open and the inside would have been stacked with cargo coming or going over the sea. That would have been in the days before everything moved in containers.

The interior wall appeared to have a small office with a door and a window at the far end. Then there was a long expanse with the single door that she knew led to the stables and other rooms inside and near it another overhead door, also closed and padlocked. Next was an employee break area. It had a door and three large windows. She could see that there were tables and chairs and vending machines on the inside. Just like the break area in most any business. Directly in front of the windows to the break room was the hitching post so that trainers could secure their ponies, take a break, and still be able to see them. Proceeding further down the wall there was a metal staircase that led up to a balcony above the area of the break room. At the top of the stairs there was a door with windows next to it. Further down the wall there was a series of large bay type windows, four of them to be exact. They were obviously for a second floor area and would provide a very good view of the entire interior area. A full set of heavy drapes blocked any look at what might be seen behind.

Jen did not find her inspection of the building to be particularly encouraging. One door to the outside probably locked; one door to an area on the second floor, not a good alternative for an escape from the building; and the door that led to the interior one-third of the building including work rooms and the stables. Certainly there were other doors from that part of the building to the outside. She would have to be very vigilant. Her and Abby’s escape – she was determined that it had to be both of them – required them to first obtain freedom of movement, a condition she had not been in since shortly after her arrival, and then they would need to escape this building. She was hopeful that the first challenge would be a matter of someone making a mistake. But she had no idea how she was going to exploit it if and when it happened. She also had no idea how much time they had. She was sure that whatever window of opportunity may exist, it would not be a large one. She doubted they had more than a matter of days or a week at the most before they would be loaded on the ship. As hard as this place was to escape she expected escaping from a ship at sea would be infinitely more difficult. She did not want to consider the prospects once she was delivered to some foreign destination. She would then have to escape not only her bonds and enclosing structures, but whatever corrupt nation or principality in which she found herself. She had read stories of modern day slavery and expected that in such places law enforcement would be more likely to return an escaping slave to their owner than help them obtain freedom. No, they had to figure out how to do it now.

Walking slowly around the track had been easy and allowed her to retreat into her thoughts, but it was to end. The trainer must have believed that the rest was over and it was time to trot or run again. The reins were snapped and the whip popped in the air behind her flesh. Abby received the message as well and the two of them began to move forward very close to the same timing. The sulky pitched just a bit to the left but Abby picked up the pace and they straightened out. As they started to move into a run the trainer applied a backward pressure on the reins and they slowed to a trot. Using the pop of the whip and pressure on the reins the trainer adjusted the pace until she was happy with the gait. Then she eased up on the reins and let them continue forward. It was obvious that she wanted them to maintain this pace. The hardest part was making the turn. It had actually been easier at a run. Now they found themselves slowing too much and receiving a reminder that did not just pop the air but found flesh. On the backstretch Jen felt they found the pace perfectly evidenced by the coordinated sound of the bells clinking together. The next turn was easier but still less than perfect and Abby’s squeal testified that she had felt the whip. Jen had not. This was not a hard pace to maintain and the trainer had them lap the track three times. As they came around the turn into the inside straightaway for the third lap the trainer snapped the reins and gave vocal encouragement in the form of something that sounded like: “Yeeha”. Jen and Abby, although tired from the trotting, knew what was required and broke into a run. They sensed that there was a finish line some place in the eye of the trainer, but trainers don’t share such things with their steeds. Jen only hopped she could hold the pace until the predetermined line had been crossed. But it was Abby that seemed to be having a more difficult time. Jen had heard her panting, but now she seemed to be gasping for breath. Jen expected her to stop, even fall, at any moment.

Then there was a gentle pull on the reins. They had crossed the line, but the pull, while firm was not sharp and Jen did not think it meant stop, or even walk, she moved back to the trot pace. The sulky lurched to the left as Abby had apparently decided to walk. There was a snap, a squeal and a return of the sulky to a straight direction as Abby returned to a trot. Jen had interpreted the signal correctly. While she may not have liked having to trot, just dropping from the run was enough for her to start to get her breath, and apparently the same for Abby, who although breathing heavily and loudly was no longer gasping and was holding the pace. The trainer kept them at a trot through the bottom turns and up the entire backstretch and then around the top turns before applying another pull on the reins signaling that they could now go to a walk. It was very welcome. As they pulled up in front of the employee break area the trainer turned them to the right and then signaled a stop with a backward pull on the reins. The sulky was at an angle near the front of the break area, but on the other side of the door from the hitching post.

The trainer went to a box near the wall and withdrew two plastic water bottles. Opening the bottle she fed one to Abby and the other to Jen. It was difficult to drink with the bit still in her mouth and a lot of water ran out dripping down her breasts and onto the ground, but Jen was very thirsty and the water tasted very good. When each of them had finished the water from a bottle the trainer discarded the now empty bottles, gave Jen a pat on the flank, and walked into the break room, leaving Jen and Abby standing hitched to the sulky. They had been hobbled, but their reins had been wrapped around a bar on the sulky itself so it appeared they had some movement. Hesitantly Jen took a small step forward. There was a lot of resistance. The sulky had been easy to pull before, but now it was not. She took another step, joined by Abby who was watching Jen as Jen looked back at the sulky. The wheels drug forward in the dirt but did not turn. The trainer had obviously set a hand break on the sulky. They could drag it about, but there seemed no purpose in doing that so she stopped and stood still. Her legs ached and she was afraid she was going to cramp so she moved them back and forth as best she could within the confines of her hobble trying to relax the muscles.

The two ponies from the paddock were brought over by their trainers and hitched to the post. They were watered in the same fashion as Jen and Abby, with the same efficacy. You would think they could at least take out the bit for this. Jen was pretty sure she recognized one of them as the pony that had tried to escape from the post the day before. While both had visible signs of the correction of the whip the one Jen recognized was a virtual mass of welts. She did not try to get loose today. She just stood there with her head down quietly crying. Her face was streaked with tears. Jen did not know to what degree they were the result of the whipping and to what degree the degradation and desperation of their situation. Jen felt a quiver run through her body. While Jen did pretty well when her mind was focused on the task at hand moments like this made her stomach knot with fear.

Then the other sulky, the one that had so soundly beaten them in the little mock race pulled up and stopped between Jen and Abby and the hitching post. Neither pony even seemed to be breathing hard. Their trainer followed the same pattern of watering them, but almost none of it escaped. When she was done she patted each of them on the flank and slipped something from her pocket into each mouth. Jen could not tell what it was, but it was white in color. It was clearly a reward and she could see the self-assured pair triumphantly enjoying their treat and their recognition. Once again they were not hobbled. Why bother, these preening little peacocks looked as though they could not be happier. Jen hated them. She wanted another go at them. Right now, as much as she wanted to get out of this place she wanted to beat them even more. She wondered what the outcome of another race would be. Maybe tomorrow, but she also realized that both she and Abby were going to be very sore tomorrow even if they were not pushed for the rest of the day. Unlikely that, she thought.

It seemed like the ponies were left waiting outside the break area for a very long time, but eventually Jen’s and Abby’s trainers came out together. While Abby’s trainer removed the hobbles from each of them Jen’s trainer climbed into the sulky made a quick adjustment of the seat, and then took the reins. Then she gave a slight pull to the right and a brief shake on the reins indicating that they should go. Jen began to angle back toward the track with Abby matching her movement. They were guided back to the left causing them to straighten out onto the track. Then with another shake of the reins the trainer indicated they should increase their speed. Very close to simultaneously they moved up to the trot speed they had learned during the morning. Within seconds the sound of the bells indicated that they had fallen into a matching gait. When they were in step pulling the sulky was very easy. It was as if it weighed almost nothing even though the combined weight of the sulky and its rider must have been a couple of hundred pounds.

The trot was only maintained for a short period before the trainer signaled for them to slow to a walk, then, soon back to a trot and even up to a run. They lapped around the track several times practicing changing pace. Run to trot was the roughest and always seemed to be accompanied by some pitching and yawing of the sulky before the two of them were able to match the timing of the transition. This became the focal point of their training for another full lap. At one point Jen heard a noise behind her while they were in a trot and the team who had beaten them earlier came by in full run. Jen wanted to catch them and beat them, she found herself beginning to lurch and pull forward to increase the pace, but a snap of the whip on her buttocks and pressure on her reins communicated that there would not be a race now. For now they were to practice changing gaits. Before being allowed to run again they were even pulled to a walk. By the time they went back to a trot and then to a run the other team was well away from them. But, they were getting the feel of things and transitions were becoming smoother. Then they were put in a trot and held at that pace for a complete lap of the track. The team that Jen now perceived as her arch rivals came by again at a run lapping them. But this time Jen held the pace perfectly. It appeared that the other team was doing full laps at a run but what irritated Jen most is that they did not even appear to be winded while she and Abby were breathing heavily and she was not sure how long she could even hold this pace.