I woke up with an absolutely monumental headache, the likes of which I had never experienced before.

I realised that I was less than comfortable, but I was in so much pain that I only opened my eyes for a split second before I had to close them again. It was totally black, I remember.

It was a lifetime later that I woke again, this time with a mouth so dry I could not swallow.

Then, I realised why.

I had some sort of rubber bar in my mouth which I could not spit out; then I realised that there was more, much more.

Light was coming in through a window, set high in the wall and I saw that I was in a small room.

IN A CAGE!

Not just in a cage, but secured in a cage by my wrists, ankles and shoulders.

And wearing only panties and bra.

A rope led from my wrists to the bars on the top, then led back round behind me before coming back into the cage behind my neck and then threaded over my shoulders and back to the bars at the rear. My ankles were held off the floor by more ropes looped through the cage top and the only part of me that actually touched the floor was my bottom. My hands were secured to the side of the cage and when I tried to move them I only pulled the rope over my shoulders tighter.

I tried to call out, but the gag in my mouth meant that I only uttered a sort of gurgling sound.

I was frightened almost out of my wits, how had this happened, was I dreaming, or rather, in a nightmare; all of these thoughts flashed through my mind as I sat, secured in the metal cage, the light getting stronger and stronger.

I tried to shake the bar from my mouth, but it was secured by straps behind my head, so I soon gave that up; anyway, it just made my head ache again.

I must have dozed, I suppose, because I was awakened by a door slamming.

I tried to turn my head but I could not turn far enough to see who it was.

Then, into sight strode a man, almost bald, slim and wiry, with a mean look in his eyes.

Wearing a one-piece leotard, and moccasins, he stood, hands on hips staring down at me.

I struggled, moving my arms and legs, and making more alien noises through my gag.

Still he said nothing, but turned and gestured with his hands.

Into view shuffled four men, fairly old, and dressed in rags. All were grime covered, and seemed to be peasants of some sort. Certainly nothing I had seen before.

They pushed poles through the sides of the cage, front to back and each at a corner, lifted me from the ground.

The stranger led the way out of the room; my cage swaying from side to side as the four men followed him.

Along a corridor into a cellar of some sort.

A few metal tool racks stood against one wall, and I stiffened when I saw that from one of them, hung a pair of manacles.

The men set my cage on the floor, then pulled the poles out, and left.

The man stood still looking at me.

“Good evening, ponygirl”, he said. He waited a few seconds then added, “That is what you are now, a ponygirl, nothing more and nothing less”.

My eyes grew large at that, and he smiled, “Shocking, isn’t it ponygirl, but it is a fact. What else is a fact is that I am one of your new trainers, William is my name and the others are Mark and Robert, but you will meet them later”.

He paused before he said, “Now, you must understand just what a ponygirl is and how a ponygirl MUST behave. You are a toy, a plaything, but also a worker. When you work, you will be under the control of peasants from the village, or a trainer, or a stable girl. When you are a toy, a plaything, then you will be totally at the behest of your Owner or whichever Member has you at that time.”

He stopped, took two steps towards me and continued, “You will start a training period this very evening, and it depends very much on your behaviour as to how long this training period lasts. We assess you and every week we present you to the Stable Managers together with a report on your progress and behaviour”.

I shook my head as much as I could and protested from behind my gag, but he just smiled and continued, “I am now going to release you and teach you the basic servile positions that you will adopt each morning when your Trainer comes for you”.

So saying, he bent down and untied my bonds so that I lay free in the cage.

He opened the top of the cage and said, as I looked fearfully up into his eyes, “I shall release you now, but remember ponygirl, you are now ours, so do not try to escape”.

He reached in and took hold of my arm, pulling me to my feet and helping me to step out of my prison. As feeling returned to my limbs, he reached out and ripped my panties from me then just as quickly, he moved behind me and unfastened my bra allowing it to slip to the floor from my numb arms.

I put my hands in front of me and crossed my legs. He sighed, reached to the back of his belt and before I realised what was happening, he struck me with a riding crop across the side of my hip.

I screamed from behind my gag and twisted away from him; but he just leisurely followed me round the room striking when he wanted to, until I stood, petrified in a corner with nowhere else to go, my body on fire from his whip.

“See, ponygirl, I told you that you should be obedient and now you know what happens when you are not”.

Through my tears, I saw him step back to the centre of the room.

He pointed to a spot in front of him. “Stand there, ponygirl”.

Slowly, hesitantly, I stepped out of my corner and did as he said.

“Hands at your side, and feet slightly apart”.

Frightened almost out of my life, I obeyed.

He smiled, “Good, ponygirl, good”, then stepped to me and carefully released the straps from behind my head, freeing me from the terrible gag and head harness.

“That was easy, wasn’t it, ponygirl?”

In spite of myself, I nodded, perhaps out of relief that he wasn’t going to whip me again.

“Now, ponygirl, work”, he said in a forceful manner. “First, on your knees”.

The crop appeared in his hand and I hastily dropped to my knees in front of him.

“Knees slightly apart”, then, “Further apart, ponygirl”, before adding, “I can always show you how far with a leg spreader”.

I shuffled my knees further apart and knew at that point, that he could see the entrance to my vagina quite plainly and realised that that was what was required.

“Now, ponygirl, hands on your thighs, palms uppermost “. Then, when I obeyed, he said, “There now, ponygirl, this is ‘I am your obedient ponygirl, Mistress Owner’, and you will adopt this position every time you meet your Owner”. “That, ponygirl, is your first lesson and one of the most important ones you will be given, so forget once and you will never forget it again”.

I rose to my feet and he said, “Put your feet together, your hands behind your back and bow from the waist until your back is horizontal to the floor”.

I lowered my eyes and bit my lip in my embarrassment.

“Now, ponygirl, stand up”

I obeyed again, my breasts hanging loosely down, my nipples hard and erect.

“Correct, ponygirl, very good; that position gives the message, ‘I am your ponygirl’ and you will adopt it every morning when your Trainer for the day appears”.

I believed him.

By then, I was tired, my head ached again and I really needed to use the lavatory.

Perhaps William realised this, because he said, “That is the lesson for today, ponygirl, tomorrow we shall have more, but in the meantime, you must be fed and watered like any pony”.

He beckoned me to him, and then, picking a metal collar from the rack at the side of the room, he slipped it round my throat, snapping it shut at the back. From another shelf, he picked a chain, which he clipped to my new collar and then said, “Come ponygirl, follow two steps behind my left shoulder.”

He led me from the cellar along corridors until we came to another door, half-open. I could hear the sound of running water, which only heightened my need for a lavatory.

He stopped. “You will shower in here with the other ponygirls, but you will be kept separate from them and you should make no attempt to talk to them or answer their questions if they try to talk to you”.

So saying, he led me through the door into a steam filled room and to my horror, handed the chain to a peasant who stood inside the room. He leered at me, and divested me of my collar before gripping my arm in a vice-like grip and leading me over to a row of toilets set against the wall.

He pointed and thankfully, I sat and carried out my needs.

I looked for paper to wipe myself, but he shook his head, gripped my arm and dragged me over to the shower area.

Before I could do anything, he had soap in his hand and whilst he gripped one arm, he thrust his soaped hands between my thighs and vigorously washed my vagina, before spinning me around and doing the same to my bottom.

No matter how I twisted and turned, his gnarled hands delved deeply into me, his callused hands rubbing coarsely over my breasts and nipples.

I heard laughter and looked through the steam to see three girls, all naked, watching my performance with a certain amount of delight and hilarity.

Some minutes later, washed, dried and talc’d, I was returned to William with my collar replaced.

I was bedded down that night in a stable bay, chained to a ring in the wall.

The lights dimmed and then a girl, in the garb of an old fashioned kitchen maid entered the bay, and laid out a meal for me on the small drop down table beside my bed.

“Can you help me?” I pleaded. She shook her head and muttered something in a language alien to me before leaving, her full skirts swishing as she hurried away.

That meal, plain as it was, was one of the best I had ever had in my life.

I slept like a log with dreams flying around inside my head. Horses neighing, stamping iron shod hooves on hard stone; all this and more I dreamt of.

Reality and the nightmare returned in the morning, as light was starting to creep through a high window in the wall.

A sharp rap on the wooden wall announced William.

I jerked awake, not really knowing where I was, or what, for that matter.

The crop hissed savagely through the air and caught me across my thigh, burning deep into my body. I never felt the next one; I was already in so much pain.

I screamed, then realisation hit me and I quickly slid off the bed and took up the kneeling position I had been shown the evening before.

I lowered my eyes as well.

“I let you off lightly, ponygirl”, he said; “but only this time, and that is because I like you”.

I knelt, palms uppermost as he described the day to me.

“First, your harness, then some exercise”. Pausing, then, “And then more exercise and lunge rein training, but first your harness”.

He turned to the entrance and called to someone out in the aisle.

Another servant girl appeared, carrying a box, setting it on my bed before dipping in curtsey and leaving.

“On your feet, ponygirl”. From the box he took a gold coloured item, almost a circle, but each end ended in a large ball. He said, “Here, ponygirl, and stand with your hands behind your back.”

He showed me the item. “Your first ornament”, he said, “Now, bend over and spread your legs”.

When I obeyed, too frightened to object, he slid his fingers between my buttocks and I felt what seemed like jelly. Then, suddenly, I felt him ease the item between my cheeks and holding my waist, he pushed until I felt the hard ball enter my bottom. I screamed and at the same time, he manipulated the other ball between my thighs and I felt it thrust up into my vagina.

The chain hung loosely to the floor between my legs ending in a ring.

I whimpered in terror as I felt the unyielding object in both my body orifices pressing against my pelvic bone at the front and I don’t know what in the back

Tears sprang into my eyes as I protested, “For God’s sake, why are you doing this to me”?

I heard the whistle of his crop before I felt, once more the stinging, excruciating pain burn across my buttock.

“Do not EVER question what we do here, ponygirl”, he answered, “You are not to even think about what we are doing to you here, just accept your position.”.

“Sit”, he ordered and feeling very cowed, I sat on the edge of my bed.

He picked up the chain and tugged it gently. I felt the balls move inside my body and flinched at the strange sensation.

“On your feet, ponygirl”

Once more standing, he quickly slipped a leather belt around my waist and padlocked it in position.

Wrist straps followed, which he attached to metal rings on the belt.

Once he had done that, he slipped a wide leather collar round my throat and again, it was locked in place. Similar straps, he secured around my ankles.

He picked up the chain and looped it over my wrist, which now was held in position at waist height.

I can’t really remember the rest of the day; it was just a pain filled blur, and I know that I spent most of it in tears.

Evening eventually came and it was back to the showers, where I had to sit, legs apart as the old man eased out my metal adornment. I flinched every time I felt his fingers slip between my thighs and he watched me avidly, a smile on his face.

Then, back to my stall in the stable and a night of troubled sleep.

Day followed day and I had no idea of dates or even times of the day except when it was time to get up and time to shower followed by time to sleep.

Still separated from the others, I counted them one evening and realised that there was quite a herd, if that is the correct name for a group of ponies.

At first, I was taught to lift my leg so that my thigh was parallel with the ground.

“This, Ponygirl, is called High Stepping and it is very much a requirement in your new way of life”.

If I failed to satisfy him, William used his crop on my legs until I pleaded to be allowed to try again.

Very rarely did I fail on a second attempt.

I was still washed down by the peasant, who had progressed from just stroking me to pushing himself against me as he dried me.

Then, one evening after I had been stood to one side after my shower and William and the other Trainer were standing, deep in conversation as the other ponygirls were washed, I realised that the door stood slightly ajar, steam swirling around the opening.

I don’t really know what made me do it, but on the spur of the moment I slipped through the gap and ran.

And ran.

Across the track into the woods, I ran as fast as I could, not knowing where I was going, only that I was free.

Gasping for breath I finally slowed down and stopped, leaning against a tree, slowing my breath as I tried to listen for sounds of pursuit. None that I could hear, so that was good.

But, what now ? I suddenly became aware that I was naked, except for my collar. I had spent so long without clothes that they had, by now seemed incidental.

But this was different. What was I to say when I reached safety; how would I explain to anyone why I was stark naked. And how would I get away from this area wherever it was, and back to London or anywhere civilised.?

With a sinking heart, I realised that I had replaced one predicament with another that was no easier to escape from.

I moved through the wood as quietly as I could, stopping from time to time to listen for pursuit.

Ahead, through the darkness of the night, I saw a glimmer of light and, heartened somewhat I headed towards it.

The woods suddenly opened onto a farmyard. The light was a lantern hanging from the corner of an old, decrepit barn.

No sounds apart from the wind in the trees.

I moved to the nearest point to the barn and looking carefully to ensure I wasn’t seen I ran across and into the side door.

Bales and loose hay spread around the inside. Quickly, I burrowed into a mountain of the stuff at the end of the building. Loose and sweet smelling and most important of all, warm and dry.

I slept deeply, in spite of everything; I was totally exhausted.

Morning and I was awakened by noises in the yard. A pail rattled, a voice, a woman’s, called out and I heard hens.

Through a crack in the boarding, I saw an old woman, dressed more or less in rags, throwing seed to the hens. I was suddenly hungry and thirsty.

I realised that the hens probably lay their eggs around the farmyard, so I carefully crept out of my burrow and started to search.

I found two almost straight away and continued, forgetting about anything else.

Suddenly, behind me a voice shouted sharply and I turned in alarm. It was the old woman, by now carrying a wicker basket over her arm.

Terrified, I stood still, my hands across my front.

“Please, please help me”, I stuttered, “I really need help to get away”.

She looked me up and down, then put her finger to her lips. “Sssshhhhh”.

She led me from the barn, holding on to my arm, checking to see no-one was around.

Into the farmhouse and up a set of creaking stairs, she guided me into an attic.

A small window with dirty glass below which was a truckle bed, old. thick blankets lay in a heap on top of it.

She pointed and I sat on the bed, drawing the blankets around me. She smiled and nodded, then turned and left. I heard a key turn in the lock and started to worry.

Twenty minutes later, I heard the stairs creaking, then the key in the lock. I clutched the blankets more tightly around me.

I need not have worried; it was the old woman with a tray of food, boiled eggs, buttered bread, coffee and even some apple juice.

She left me to eat, locking the door behind her.

Minutes after finishing the meal, I lay down and slept.

I was awakened a sharp prod in the ribs. I opened my eyes and there was William, smiling at me as he raised his crop and struck.

He had taken the blankets from me whilst I slept so he had all of me as his target. And all of me he used. By the time he had finished, I was screaming in absolute agony as his crop worked it’s red hot way across my body.

When he stopped, I was a mass of pain, crying my eyes out, lying huddled in a corner.

He had two peasants bring in a cage and forced me into it.

Actually, I was so pleased that I scrambled into it as soon as they opened the flap.

He leaned down, attaching manacles to my wrists, securing them to the bars before doing the same with my ankles.

In all this time, he had said nothing.

I lay, cowering in my tiny prison, knees hunched up almost into my breasts.

He leaned over me. “Well, ponygirl, how did you enjoy your small taste of freedom?”

I avoided his stare and shook my head.

“That is just the beginning”, he added and at that point two more peasants entered the room carrying long wooden batons which they threaded through the bars of my cage before lifting it from the floor and manhandling it down the stairs and out into the yard.

I felt every step they took as my poor pain wracked body slumped against the bars.

Outside in the yard, I was subjected to the indignity of being stood on the ground in front of a cart drawn by four other ponygirls, all bitted and harnessed.

I whimpered in terror as William, crop in hand strode over to my prison. He slid his crop between the bars and poked my breast. “See, ponies, see what happens when you try to run”.

Then he pointed and the peasants loaded my cage onto the cart, William climbed onto the seat cracking his whip over their shoulders. The cart moved off and I was on my way back to Purgatory.

Back at the Farm, I was unloaded by some more old men and taken into a dark and dingy stable.

Unlocked and told to get out of the cage, I was then hung by my wrists in chains from a beam.

My waist was cinched into a thick, wide leather belt and that too was attached to chains behind me.

Then, for the second time, I was bitted with a thin rubber covered metal bit, secured behind my head.

William checked to make sure all the restraints were secure, then left, switching out the light as he went.

I hung there for I really don’t know how long. Then the light went on and before me stood the Farm Director, Catriona Black.

She stared at me for what seemed like an eternity.

Then, “Ponygirl”, she murmured in her cultured voice, “You have caused an awful lot of trouble for me, and that really cannot be tolerated"”

She raised the crop she held in her hand, and I flinched, although I could not really move.

She stroked the leather tip across my breast and in spite of everything, I felt my nipple stiffen.

“I am here to tell you that such transgressions will not be tolerated, and so, ponygirl, you will now undergo the punishment period before continuing with your normal training”.

.I spent the next seven days or so, wishing that I were dead. Or, at least wishing that I had never attempted to run away.

My routine was rigid and drastic

As soon as she had seen me, a stable girl came into my stall and whilst I hung in my chains, she fitted my feet with what she called ballet shooves.

Once that had been done, she lowered me onto my feet, or at least, as it turned out, to be my toes, for the heels were so high that it seemed that I was a ballet dancer on points.

I found it painful and hard to stand in them and had to constantly move my weight from one to the other to maintain my balance.

When not being worked, for the rest of my punishment period, I wore those hateful shoes all the time and it was William, in the showers, who laughed and said, “Try trotting away now, ponygirl”.

My day started with being fed by a stable girl then harnessed sparsely, my feet and legs encased in shooves (that was a word I thought had been a misprint!) then attached to the carousel. Then fed again followed by lunge rein training, followed by feeding, and finally to the shower room with the other ponies, hobbling on my hateful ballet shooves, where, each evening the horrible old peasant became more and more intrusive, working his fingers into my body as he scrubbed and dried me.

Then, once more back in the stables, I was pushed back into my cage for the night, although at least I was not chained.

How I cursed that oaf of a husband of mine. Had he not used my name when he got into financial trouble, then I would still be working at Bank International, earning a good salary and enjoying life.

That bastard should be here, not me.

But miserable day followed miserable day and so did the nights, cooped up as I was in my tiny cell.

My trainer, Robert, was unmoved by my tears, as he used his crop or whip to “encourage me to do better”, as he put it.

The carousel was the worst; I was dragged round by it, with no alternative but to follow the arm as it drew me round and round, with Robert standing outside the ring, calling orders to me, which he backed up with his whips.

More so, as I could not see anything unless it was directly in front of me, and was totally at Robert’s mercy.

I did not even know when I was to be punished, until I heard the swish of the whip and by then it was too late; I just had to accept it without missing a step.

Day after day, I cried as he whipped and cropped me as I was drawn past him.

I must have been in a bad way, for I was trying to think of a way in which to end my miserable life, when it changed.

The stable girl told me that from that night, I would no longer be held in my tiny prison.

My God!, I cried myself to sleep that night, huddled on my hay filled mattress, wrapped in my horse blanket.

The following morning, I realised that my punishment period was over.

As well as my harness, I was fitted with a full blinker bridle as well; this with a rigid neck corset.

This meant that I was totally disorientated for the whole time, and unable to do anything for myself. My stable girl trainer had to tell me to do everything and I still had to be perfect in my response.

I would be left for long periods alone, my reins hanging loosely from my bit, but as I did not know where I was, I dared not do anything except stand still and shuffle my metal shod shooves to try and keep my blood circulating through my feet and legs.

This, I was told by my stable girl, was to teach me patience.

“You will do a lot of standing around, later on when you have an Owner”, she told me one day as she led me slowly back to my stable at the end of the day.

I was harnessed thus, every day until evening.

Again, throughout the days, there were rest periods when I was rubbed down and watered by an old man, who took the opportunity to stroke my body in the most intimate places. All I could do was twist my body and complain behind my bit, which he thought very funny.

Weeks and days passed in a blur; all I knew was that I had to perform as instructed by whoever my trainer for that day was.

My evenings changed at that point.

I was presented to the stable girls in their quarters, harnessed with neck corset, bridle and bit, and had my arms forced into a single sleeve behind my back.

Then, I was ordered to pay homage to the girls, on my knees, shuffling awkwardly across the floor to each in turn, kissing a shoe or a proffered hand, then being fed a sugar cube or sweet by each one of them.

Each evening I felt more and more controlled, which of course was their intent.

It took them three nights to make me do as they said without any prompting at all.

For the first ten minutes or so of the first evening, I rebelled, but the crop soon made me see the error of my ways.

By the end of the week I was eating out of their hands, literally.

Once I obeyed their instructions, they clapped their hands and laughed at me and expected the same performance from me every evening afterwards.

Now, looking back, I realised that I could never win, and watch some of the new ponies with a certain amount of amusement as they repeat my original performance.

Now, I think of myself as quite privileged, in a strange sort of a way.

I have been given a great figure through all the gymnastics that I have been forced into as well as the sulky and carriage work that I do.

I know that a number of the Members really envy me my firm breasts, my shapely legs, thighs and slim waist.

My Owner now spends quite a lot of money on my harnesses and now, also on other normal clothes and in return I have won many prizes for her in the competitions that are held at the castle from time to time.

I am now used to shooves and in fact I find it rather strange when I am not wearing them.

From time to time, I am also made to wear the hated ballet shooves and these I still find very hard to get used to.

Robert always says, “See how far you can run in them, ponygirl”.

But to return to my story.

My training continued with Patience and Reliance as the main focuses; Patience when in harness and Reliance allowing myself to totally rely on my driver’s instructions without hesitation.

It seemed to be endless and I had no social intercourse with the other ponies, all of whom seemed to past training.

My name I had all but forgotten, and answered to the basic name, “Ponygirl”.

I had given up any hope of ever becoming normal, if being a ponygirl could ever be called that.

My only pleasant part of the day was the shower room in the evening and it was there that my life brightened a little.

One evening as I was standing in the rear part of the shower, I felt soapy hands slide around my waist from behind, then slide upwards to my breasts where they fondled and teased the wet skin of my breasts and nipples.

I felt my nipples harden and the skin of my breasts tighten as the hands slid slowly over my tender flesh and at the same time I got a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Shocked, I reached up to move the hands away then felt my nipples harden as thumbs slid over them, pressing and caressing them.

I started to turn to protest, then felt soft lips on the side of my throat.

I went weak at the knees as I felt a soft tongue slide across the side of my neck, then slowly upwards to my ear, not stopping there, but easing slowly, carefully into the orifice.

After the entire trauma I had suffered since entering this nightmare, I suddenly wanted desperately to feel some sort of affection from some one.

I saw, through half closed eyes, two of the ponies slowly move so that we were hidden from William and the stable girls.

I turned further and felt lips slide across my cheek, then cover my mouth, soft, comforting and very, very erotic.

I closed my eyes and savoured the moment, feeling her hands and fingers stroking, caressing and delving into the same places that the peasant had been invading just the previous evening.

But how different this felt

I put out my hands, eyes closed, heart thudding wildly and felt soft, warm skin.

Moving them up, I pressed my palms over soft, fluid breasts and at the same time opened my lips, accepting that of my new found lover.

Inside my mouth, our tongues intermingled, sliding around each other, flicking against each other, tasting the sweetness of each other.

Then, suddenly, it was over. One of the ponies touched my arm and I opened my eyes, once more aware of our surroundings.

At the other end of the room, the girls were starting to dry themselves and our keepers were passing out large, soft towels.

We separated, my heart almost stopping with my experience.

Facing me, smiling, stood a titian/blonde haired ponygirl, lightly tanned skin, eyes sparkling with amusement, lips still parted.

She murmured, “Firestorm”, and raised her eyebrows in query.

I could only reply, “Ponygirl”.

Her hand slid up to my breast and touched it, she smiled, turned and walked gracefully out of the shower to be dried down.

I stood, pulses racing trying to calm myself before following; the last to be dried down by the horrid old peasant.

On the return to the stables, Firestorm made sure she was tethered next to me on the central chain.

The next morning as I was led out to the yard for yet another training session, I saw her, harnessed for work. As I passed her she turned her head and parted her sultry lips in a partial smile, but it was the look in her eyes that made my heart beat faster.

Still my training continued.

A full week of being blinkered and driven in tandem with another pony.

After a number of false starts and some cropping from our driver, we eventually performed well together, even though we never actually saw each other.

Then, from working in tandem and still fully blinkered, we were moved to six in hand, which took us all by surprise, and meant that there was plenty of whipping as we stumbled and tripped over each other in our dark world.

Eventually, however, we did work together as long as we were harnessed in the same position all the time.

By instinct, we were aware of what our companions were doing.

It was, to be honest, one of the most terrifying parts of my training and each night, I just wished I were dead.

But in the showers, my spirits rose again, as night after night, I was comforted and consoled by Firestorm, shielded from the stable girls and our trainer by the others, and that was all I had to keep me going.