She had a dazzling smile. She was smiling at someone she knew as they passed. Pretty lips, perfect teeth and sparkling blue eyes. The breeze took her blonde hair and she had to shake her head to keep it from blowing over her face. Joe had noticed her the moment she had left the supermarket, the sun shining through her light dress, so that he could see her lovely long legs and the white panties underneath. She was the one, he decided. His eyes followed her as she went to her car.

He walked over to where she was loading her groceries into the boot. He was pleased to see she had not bought very much: either she was just picking up a few things she needed, or she didn't have too many mouths to feed. He tried to decide which. There were clearly ingredients for several different meals ... but they wouldn't be large ones. Maybe enough for one - perhaps two at each meal. What else? Toilet paper - a small multi-pack - gave nothing away. Shampoo - big bottle ... but that would last, so no help there.

He moved on a step or two to avoid her noticing him, but then her shopping went out of his line of sight. He stopped as he heard her slam the boot, and took out a cigarette. He turned out of the breeze to light it, and was able to watch her walk to the front of the car, open it, and get in. He had been trying to look at her fingers: he wasn't sure, but he didn't see any rings. “Yes!” he thought. “She's the one.”

He turned, cut through the rows of cars to where he had parked his - close to the exit. He got in and started his engine, and waited. After a minute or two - it seemed longer, her car went by. Another followed hers. Joe pulled out behind that and followed her. While they were driving through the town centre, Joe kept a car or two between him and her car. He also tried to use different traffic lanes where he could. Hopefully, she would not notice him in her rear-view mirror. As she drove into a residential area, he had to adopt different tactics. He would pull in and let her drive ahead of him until she turned, then he would quickly follow after her so that he would be able to see where she turned in the next road. Eventually he saw her pull in by a row of small terraced cottages. She opened the door of one, and took her groceries in.

Joe waited a moment. Was she alone in there? He just didn't know ... but he decided the chances were, if there was anyone else there, he could get away quickly enough, and if there wasn't - that was just what he wanted. He reached out to the shopping bag behind him. He had some shampoo - but it was a different make, and too small. No toilet paper. He didn't even have the same meals she had bought. Oh well, he thought. Let's try these. He picked up a carton of Corn Flakes. He also picked up a small ball gag and a pair of handcuffs: real ones, not the easy release ones people play sex games with. He got out of the car, looked round to check the street was empty and walked up to her door. He knocked, and stood a step back, and waited. Moments later, she opened the door. She stood behind it and peered round, wondering who this stranger was and what he wanted.

"Hi" he said, smiling, "I saw you unpacking your shopping and you seemed to drop this." He gestured to the Corn Flakes, which he was holding edge on to her line of sight. He smiled at her again, shuffled his feet, moving a little way out of sight, so that the door would have to be opened wider to see what he was showing her. She opened the door a little more and stepped round it. At that moment, Joe rushed forward and pushed her in, so hard she fell back onto the floor. Joe closed the door and stood over her. He listened. She swore at him and asked him what he thought he was doing. She was frightened, very frightened, but angry at the same time. Angry at him, and angry at herself for falling over and not protecting herself.

"Shut up!" he ordered. She swore again and was about to let a tirade of abuse lose at him, when Joe kicked her in the groin very hard. She groaned in shock and pain. Tears filled her eyes. "I said, 'Be quiet.' " He listened again. Not a sound. They were alone. He weighed up the situation. So far everything was working out well. No-one had seen him. There was no evidence of his being here, so nothing to clear up.

"Turn over!" he ordered. She looked at him. Was she going to be raped? "Turn over! Now!" Well - unless he wanted her from behind, she was probably not going to be raped - at least - not yet. Joe kicked her again - not so hard this time - just a reminder. She had no more time to think. Just go along with things. Maybe she can escape later. Maybe he'll get scared and let her go. She turned over just before Joe kicked her again. Joe knelt down, straddling her. He pulled her arms back and handcuffed her. As she started to protest, Joe slipped the ball gag into her mouth and fastened it firmly behind her head.

She was outraged. Outraged, but helpless. Joe lifted her up, helping himself to handfuls of her breasts. She tried to kick him. It was all she could do to defend herself, now. Joe slapped her across the face, hard: harder than he'd intended. She gasped with the shock and pain, and nearly choked because of the gag in her mouth. Tears were running down her face now.

"Listen." said Joe. "I'm going to take you out. We will walk to my car and get in. You will not struggle, or try to draw attention to yourself. Do you understand?"

She did not react. Joe put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a knife. He dug the point into her cheek. A drop of blood emerged. He wiped it off with his finger and showed it to her. "Do you understand?" She nodded. A new droplet of blood formed on her cheek.

Joe then took some fine wire and tied it round her neck. A chain dangled from it, which he held onto. "If you try to run, this'll cut into your neck. If you try hard enough, it'll take your head right off. Understand?"

She nodded. Joe smiled to himself when he saw the fright in her eyes. He had already begun to subjugate her. He licked the new blood from her cheek: she recoiled from his wet touch. Joe laughed, "You're mine now. Get used to it." He ran his hands over her breasts, found her nipples and squeezed them cruelly, twisting them at the same time. She groaned with the pain. Then he lifted her dress and put his hand inside her panties. She was neatly trimmed. Joe pushed two fingers inside her. She stood rigid, unable to protest, but damned well not going to co-operate. Joe didn't care at that time. He let her go, went to the door and looked out. It was clear. He tugged on the chain sharply and she followed, looking round, hoping someone would see. But she knew everyone on the street would be at work at this time.

She got into the car and waited. Joe shut her front door and got in the car too. He started the engine, and they drove off.

The journey lasted for hours. They didn't stop anywhere. Joe had a bottle of water which he would drink from now and then. Twice he stopped to relieve himself in the bushes. She had nothing to drink, and was given no chance to go to the toilet. She was also unable to ask. At the end of the journey, she was in agony trying to hold it in. Joe realised this and said, "If you need to go, then go." She looked at him ... he stared back ... she realised he meant, she must wet herself. What kind of pervert was he? She tried to hold on.

They were way out in the country. It was night, but, being summer, it was not quite dark yet. She could see the house and some outbuildings. Joe led her to one of the outbuildings. It smelled of horses. She could hear one or two horses moving about. Joe opened the door to an empty stall and pushed her in. He took out the knife he had pricked her cheek with and cut off her dress, bra and panties. Then he fitted a heavy metal collar around her neck. She noticed with horror that it was fastened to the wall: she was a prisoner here. Joe began to play with her nipples ... very gently. Then he sucked on them. Despite herself, she was beginning to enjoy Joe’s attentions, and her nipples began to grow. Joe licked on them some more. Then he stopped. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her left nipple. Then in her right. Joe had pierced them both and was pushing a gold ring through each. At this point she lost control of herself and urinated on the floor. In pain and humiliated, she tried to pull away, but her collar restrained her. Her nipples throbbed and the weight of the rings was making the pain worse. Joe didn't stop there, either. He quickly pierced the hood of her clitoris and put a ring in there too. The next thing he did filled her with horror. He produced a small soldering iron. She was frightened beyond words - not that she was able to utter any, but all he did was solder the joins of the gold rings so they could not be opened again. She felt the heat of the iron near her skin, but he did not touch her with it.

At least, not with the soldering iron, and not until he had finished soldering the three rings he had put on her. After that, he turned her round so he could see her buttocks. He picked up another red hot iron and placed it firmly on her skin. It hissed. The air smelled of burning meat. The most dreadful pain moved up her body as the branding iron burned into her flesh. Then he took the iron away. She passed out, almost garrotting herself on the heavy metal collar.

Joe undid the collar and put her limp body on the ground. He carefully cleaned all her wounds and applied a liniment to the burn to keep it clean. He admired the brand mark: a linked J and R (for Joe's Ranch) and a pony's head. It was still clear, but as it healed, it would swell up and blister for a while. He undid the handcuffs took out her gag, but hobbled her ankles and put a new collar around her neck. Then he threw a rough smelly blanket over her and left, locking the door behind him.

When she came to, it was very early morning. The horses next door were moving about and that was what made her to remember what had happened the day before. Then the pain of her brand made itself felt. She twisted her body to see the raw blistering mess on her left buttock, and could just make out the design. Then she remembered the rings. She felt her breasts. They were too sore to touch, so was her pussy. She sat where she was, leaning away from her left buttock, and sobbed.

Eventually, she heard the sound of someone coming in. It was a girl. She was average height, plain, but not unattractive. Quite slim and obviously healthy, having lived an outdoor life. Bur a hard look in her eyes. Her eyes were green. Her hair was a light brown - and grown to shoulder length - and she wore it pulled back into a pony tail.

She looked at the newcomer warily. "Who are you? What's happened to me? Where am I?" The newcomer did not answer, but came over to her and started to look at her wounds. Frightened, she tried to keep the newcomer away, but she received a sharp whack with a riding crop across her face. The pain felt like it had cut into her cheek deeply: she was worried she would be scarred for life.

The newcomer understood. "That'll be gone in a while," she said. "But you must let me look at your rings and your brand." She began to examine the scar made by the branding iron. "That will get worse before it gets better, but it will heal nicely if you let it." She looked at the rings. The flesh was swollen around them. "They'll heal up too," she smiled "I'm Jane, by the way."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No!" laughed Jane, "I'm the stable girl. I'm here to look after you and to clean your stall out."

"My stall? - What do you mean, My stall?"

"This is where you'll live, from now on." Jane replied

"But stables are for horses!" she cried. "Why am I being kept in a stable?"

"Because," said Jane, "You have now become a pony."

Jane carefully washed the new ponygirl down, avoiding the painful wounds, but making sure they were clean. She brushed her hair and plaited it into one long strand. She had had to show the ponygirl the crop before she would let her brush it, but, having been warned, the ponygirl was ready to comply. Besides, it felt soothing to have her hair brushed. It was the nicest thing that had happened since this macabre abduction took place.

“Why her?” she thought. “And why are they torturing me?” Then she asked, “What do you mean, 'I have become a pony'?”

“Shhh” Jane replied. From now on, Jane would only speak to the ponygirl when necessary – when actions and cuts of the whip were not adequate – and she would only tell her what she needed to know. The ponygirl fell silent and let her hair be brushed. Jane had also brought some food to eat, but the ponygirl was too upset to eat anything at all.

Then, to the ponygirl’s surprise, Jane put a bridle over her head and pushed the bit into her mouth. Now the ponygirl was unable to talk. All she could do was make noises that were grunts, moans or pony-like whinnies. There were blinds on the side of the bridle, so the ponygirl’s field of vision was now restricted. Jane tried to grab the ponygirl’s arms, but she realised what was about to happen and pulled them away… she tried to get away, but her collar was chained to the wall, and her ankles had been hobbled together the night before, so she was immediately stopped.

Jane showed the ponygirl the riding crop. Then hit the ponygirl on the back of her leg, twice, three times. “Don’t!” she ordered.

The ponygirl was in tears again, but Jane took no notice. She pulled the ponygirl’s arms behind her and slid a single sleeve over them, up above the elbows. She tightened them. The ponygirl was now completely helpless.

The harness was put over the ponygirl’s head and straps run under her arms and around her breasts, the new leather cutting into her flesh as it was tightened. Little tinkling bells were hung on the nipple and clit rings. Then a tail was pushed into her anus. It felt like it was splitting her apart. Finally Jane put a pair of knee-high boots onto the ponygirl. They felt like they were high heeled – at least 6 inches high – but that was just their design. They were, in fact, shaped like hooves, with no heel at all. The foot was just held in that position to give a more hoof-like appearance. And they made a clip-clop noise as the ponygirl moved.

At last, all the preparations were complete. Jane looked at her and smiled. “You look very good” she said. In a way, the ponygirl was pleased, but she didn’t know why.

Jane left. The ponygirl could do nothing except wait for the next thing to happen. She had no idea what that would be. Meanwhile, she began to feel hungry and her nipples, clit and brand began to hurt again. She felt wretched.

After what seemed an age, Joe appeared. He was a tall man, strong and rough-looking. He walked in, ran his hand over the ponygirl’s back and slapped her backside. The ponygirl moved away, but Joe grabbed the reins of her bridle, and led her outside. It was a cold English Spring day. A drizzle was in the air. It made the ponygirl shiver, but it soothed her pain. The ponygirl’s steps were unsteady in her new boots. Joe removed the chains with which she had been hobbled all night and walked her up and down the driveway to get used to them. The ponygirl looked around …she was acutely conscious that she was naked, and she wondered if she could be seen. Joe realised what she was thinking, and walked her around the small field they were in. She could only be seen from the house in this field. He then took her out of the field and led her down a long footpath. Eventually they came to a country lane.

“This is a public road,” he said. “You are completely exposed here.” He took her onto the road and they walked down it for 100 yards, then turned into a gate and eventually came back to where they had begun. The ponygirl had felt a thrill at being exposed in public and the danger of being seen naked had excited her, but she had also wanted someone to come and rescue her. No-one had, and Joe had known this.

He started walking the ponygirl on a long rein – round and round in circles, for what seemed ages. The ponygirl was made to lift her knees high at each step – waist height every time. She was walking very slowly and her legs ached and at times refused to obey her. When this happened, Joe would strike her with his crop until she started high-stepping properly again. After the high-step training, Joe made her jog around the field. As she ran, the bells on her rings tinkled. The sound humiliated her, and tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks. Joe ignored this and made her continue to jog. Her unsupported breasts rose and fell with her steps. She was acutely aware of each movement because of the pain in her nipples. Her pussy throbbed. Eventually she just stopped and refused to go on. Joe whipped her once or twice, but she didn’t care. She was beyond pain. Joe led her back to her stall, wrapped her blanket over her shoulders and left her, trussed up as he found her. As he left he patted her and said, “You have done well. It’ll get better. You’ll see.”

The ponygirl had nothing else to do. She sank to the ground and drifted away into some kind of nightmarish sleep where Jane and Joe were whipping her mercilessly, while she, as a horse, whinnied and struggled to get away.

She was wakened to find Jane removing her harness. There was some fresh food waiting for her in a tin bowl. The ponygirl looked at Jane, who nodded, and the ponygirl ate everything in the bowl as if she hadn’t eaten all week. Now, the ponygirl realised, she was thirsty – very thirsty. She was about to ask Jane for a drink, but Jane anticipated the request and nodded towards a bucket of cold water.

“I’m not drink….” She began, but her retort was silenced but a sharp whack of a crop on her thigh.

“Don’t talk!” ordered Jane. “Ponies can’t speak.”

The ponygirl nearly protested that she wasn’t a pony, but she realised that any reply would have painful consequences. So she went to the bucket and started to lift it. Jane coughed and frowned. The ponygirl understood, put the bucket back on the ground, and leant forward to drink from it that way. Jane looked at her, satisfied: soon she would start to believe in her new status in life, as a pony, and then she could be taken out and displayed. When the ponygirl had finished eating, she was motioned to lie down on the floor. The ponygirl complied. Jane took her hands, handcuffed them and linked them to an iron ring behind the ponygirl’s head. Then she tied each ankle to hooks on the stall walls on either side, and forced the ponygirl’s legs wide apart. This was Jane’s time to play. She caressed the ponygirl’s body all over and played gently with her painful nipples. The ponygirl was shocked at this, and cringed at the touch of another woman. But she was helpless and Jane was free to do as she wished. She looked at the clitoral piercing. This was the most painful of them all, but it looked like it was healing properly. Jane pressed her fingers inside the ponygirl’s pussy, like Joe had done the day before. The ponygirl was rigid, but Jane persisted and eventually managed to slide right in and work them inside her. Despite being sick at the thought of a woman molesting her, the ponygirl found that Jane was gentle and her fingers were clever. They knew what they should do, and soon they were sliding over the ponygirl’s g-spot. At this point, Jane lent over and started licking the ponygirl’s clit. Now the ponygirl was becoming aroused.

“This mustn’t happen,” she thought. “I can’t orgasm like this! There must be something wrong with me if I do!” Unfortunately, the more she tried to resist the urge to climax, the more inevitable it became that she would. And the more she resisted, the harder she would cum when she reached orgasm. And so it was, after a few minutes gentle caressing, licking, biting and teasing, the ponygirl let out a huge moan of joy combined with self-loathing and came hard on Jane’s fingers and into her mouth. Jane continued to masturbate the ponygirl until she was completely exhausted, and then she lifted her face and kissed the ponygirl full on the mouth. The ponygirl could taste her own juices on Jane’s tongue.

“We must do something about this,” Jane said, looking down at Jane’s pussy. She released the ponygirl’s arms and legs and made her bring her knees up towards her chest. Then she tied the each ankle to her wrists and spread her legs wide. She went away for a few minutes and returned with a bowl and some strips of muslin. The ponygirl felt a warm gooey liquid being applied to her pussy. She realised she was having her pubic hair waxed, and she tried to put her mind somewhere else so she would not feel the pain or the humiliation. A few moments later, Jane pressed her finger on the ponygirl’s clit ring, to prevent it being torn out, and ripped away her hair. It took another application before Jane was completely happy with the ponygirl’s new look. Jane smiled and kissed the freshly-plucked pussy. Then she got up and untied the ponygirl and then left her alone in her stall. The ponygirl took stock of the situation. She had been abducted by people who wanted to turn her into a pony. She was kept naked in a stall in a barn, with no facilities: she realised that, if she needed to answer a call of nature, she would have to do it in her stall, and Jane would have to clear it out next day. She had been tortured so that they could attach these bells to her. They were training her to walk in a stylised way, and they were dressing her up in hooves and harness. There was no doubt; they were intent on their purpose.

They were using a whip to break her will – and she had to admit, they were succeeding. She would do anything, almost, to avoid receiving another vicious cut of a riding crop.

The ponygirl began to wonder how long she would be kept like this: was it just for a little fun, or was it forever? What would they do to her when they had finished with her?

At this point, her thoughts were interrupted. Jane came back in, accompanied by another man she had not seen before – young and scruffy – probably a stable lad for the real horses, she thought.

Jane and the man looked at the ponygirl. “Very pretty,” the man said, “What’s her name?”

“We haven’t thought of one yet,” said Jane.

“I meant her real name.”

“Oh. She left that behind with her old life. We don’t know and we don’t care.”

“Uh huh,” the man grunted, “But I see you’ve had to chastise her,” he added with a chuckle.

“Yes,” said Jane, “But she’s a quick learner and co-operates most of the time now.”

“That’s good,” said the man. “That always helps. Let’s see her dressed up.”

With that, the ponygirl’s harness was put on, and, as the ponygirl did not resist, the process was completed very quickly. Then the man began to adjust the ponygirl’s bit. Her removed the original bit from the ponygirl’s mouth and took it off the bridle. He then attached a new one and pushed it back into her mouth. This time, however, the ponygirl’s mouth was being force wide open and she could not close it at all. Then she was led out into the yard. To her horror, there were seven or eight other “stable lads” waiting and they all cheered their appreciation of her looks when she was led out. The ponygirl’s skin flushed with shame to be forced to parade naked in front of these men for their amusement. After a few moments, she was forced to her knees. Slowly it dawned on her why her bit had been changed. One by one each stable lad came forward. The ponygirl tried to get away, but she was held firm, and each move she made was answered by a cut from a riding crop.

As each lad came forward, he undid himself in front of the ponygirl and thrust his penis into her mouth. She was face-fucked by all of them. Some had huge cocks and forced them deep into her throat. If she gagged, she was cut by the crop. She quickly learned to control her gagging reaction. She also learned how to open her throat, to let the dick go down. And as her mouth and throat became lined with one man after another’s cum, there was enough lubrication to help with the rest. All the ponygirl could think of while this was happening was, “It’s not fair. They don’t do this to real ponies.”

After the ordeal was over, the stable lads lingered for a while, looking over the ponygirl, touching her, groping her, while she stood and let them, knowing that if she reacted, it would be the worse for her. Eventually, they all dispersed, leaving her alone with Jane and the first stable lad.

“I think they enjoyed that, Jane” said the stable lad. He passed her a wad of notes, over £100. Not bad, if divided by eight! “Now it’s my turn,” he added.

“Your freebie, huh?” chuckled Jane. The ponygirl was led back into the stable and made to face the wall. Her legs were spread apart with a metal bar. Then her arms were pulled up and tied to rings placed high up on the wall, so high she was stretching on her toes to reach.

“I’ll leave you now,” said Jane. “Don’t mark her badly or she’ll lose value.”

The stable lad chuckled.

He bustled around behind the ponygirl’s back. She tried to look around to see what he was doing.

“Face the wall!” he ordered.

The ponygirl obeyed. But the stable lad had become annoyed by her attempt to look at him. “Bitch!” he shouted, “Don’t ever look at me like that!”

The ponygirl felt a searing pain across her buttocks. Then she heard the crack of a whip. She was being flogged. All the time she was being whipped, the stable boy was yelling foul abuse at her. From time to time, the whipping paused. The ponygirl heard some grunts and breath intakes, then the flogging resumed. The lashes were not all painful. Many missed their mark completely. But occasionally, one would be so severe that the ponygirl nearly passed out. She did not cry. Her pain and suffering were too intense for that. She shook each time the lash fell. Eventually they stopped. The stable lad had been masturbating during the whipping session, edging himself to prolong his enjoyment. But at last he had cum and stopped. He wiped his hands on the ponygirl’s hair and left her where she was, semi-suspended and semi-conscious.

Her degradation complete, her body totally taken and used, the ponygirl now fully understood the future that awaited her.