Amelia's Story

by Coachman
- do not use without the author's permission.



Chapter 5


It was Mistress Riding Director who first forced me into the first full-face pony harness that I ever wore.

She had ordered me down on all fours and then harnessed me from above and behind, fitting the instrument of torture over my face and head before I even knew what was happening.

Once back up on my shooves, I tossed my head and tried to complain from inside my constricting leather mask, but really, it was all in vain; the horrible thing was in place, and with my wrists secured to my belt harness, I was helpless to do anything.

She led me, clip-clopping on my shooves to a mirror and I saw myself wearing a long muzzle with leather pricked ears.

I spent the morning with William, on the lunge rein.

Afternoon, I spent fitted with a full pony head and glooves, which, once I was harnessed, were secured to my belt, before I was turned into a loose box for the rest of the day.

I stamped and whinnied and shook my head but that only caused my pony hair mane to fly around my encased head.

I wore that for two days, again being lunged and trotted by William.

I hated it and they knew it.

Then followed the mask I really, really hated.

Made from steamed, formed leather, it was hard and heavy with little visibility for the wearer and could be fitted with either a ball gag or, more usually, bit and reins.

Once fitted, breathing became awkward and there seemed to be some sort of echo inside, so that it always seemed to me that I sounded more like a horse than ever, when I was wearing it.

Strapped firmly to my head, it was held firmly, immovably, in place against the face.

When fitted with ball gags, I was only able to make the most basic of animal noises in protest and even then, only if I constantly sucked on the ball to keep my mouth moist.

For a whole week, I wore that hateful harness, but then we had been subjected to it, and it seemed to me that I became more horse than human whilst I wore it. It became normal.

Later, if I was awkward, this is one of the harnesses they would use to punish me.

The end of the week came and once again I reverted to being a normal ponygirl; sharing the showers with the others and again Firestorm entered my life.

Standing naked with the others under the showerheads, I started to soap myself down and saw through the steam Firestorm, smiling at me.

Some of the girls moved casually between the stable girls and us and she moved over to me and slid her arm round my waist, gently pulling me to her wet, naked body. Her lips pressed gently against mine and I felt myself go weak at the knees, closing my eyes, allowing her to slip her tongue deep into my compliant mouth.

That kiss seemed to last forever.

Her hands moved over my body, sliding easily on my soaped skin, delving between my thighs, moving around the small of my back, pulling our bodies closer together.

Her knee slid between my legs, easing upwards so that it pressed against my groin.

With a totally involuntary movement, I straddled my thighs over her raised leg, feeling my clitoris slide on her wet skin.

I groaned in anguish and my pulses raced out of control as we continued to touch and caress each other.

Then, a touch on the arm and it was all over. Utterly breathless, we separated.

We started to move to the drying area where we were once more fondled and touched by the old peasant as he dried us down. Then, chained next to Firestorm, we were again returned to our stables and stalls.

The next few weeks were just a blur really, so many things to learn and so intensive that even at the end of the days, I had difficulty in remembering what I had done.

Then, things changed again.

Robert strolled into my stall earlier than usual one morning, carrying a new harness in his hands. Dropping it on my bed, he dressed me only attaching a waist belt, wrist and ankle straps before leading me over to the side of the stall

I stood, docile as always, wondering what was to happen, as he attached my wrists and ankles to the wooden rails.

He finally looped chains through my belt and pulled me hard against the wooden rails.

He stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders, pressing me gently over the top rail, fingers digging into my soft skin; only then did I realise what he was intent on.

Raping me.

I started to cry out as I felt his hard organ press between my thighs, open to him, spread-eagled as I was.

I felt him searching, then, as he found the entrance to my sex, he lowered himself slightly then thrust upwards so hard that he actually lifted me from my feet.

The chains at my ankles clanked and tightened as he held me off the floor.

He stopped and I felt his organ, hot and hard, slide a little further into me.

His hand slid to my breasts and in spite of everything, I realised that my breasts had hardened, as had my nipples, which now were so hard that I could actually feel the hardness myself.

He lowered my to the floor, then thrust again, slowly but surely, easing himself further into me. I felt his groin twisting slightly against my buttocks as he eased further into me before pausing once more.

I felt myself damp between my thighs, as he pressed again and again into me, breathing easily, slowly as he did so.

Then, with horror, as he pressed again and again into me, I realised that I was enjoying this forced contact between us.

I thrust my buttocks back against him, hearing him chuckle quietly as he recognised the signs.

I leaned forward as far as I could, lifting myself up for him, inviting, asking, begging him.

He obliged willingly, his organ thrusting again and again into me, lubricating me, stroking the inside of my compliant, welcoming vagina, causing my pulses to race almost out of control.

I felt myself thrust harder against him, then faster as well and realised that I was about to have my first real orgasm of my life.

Robert felt my need and increased his thrust as well, then I cried out as I felt myself climax again and again as he thrust harder and savagely into me.

I felt the rush of his hot fluids as he climaxed, nanoseconds after me.

I collapsed over the wooden rail, my vagina gripping Robert as hard as I could, holding him immobile inside me as I felt our body fluids start to leak out of me and trickle, warm and comfortable down the inside of my legs.

I lay, enjoying every emotion, every movement, every slight contraction as he held me by my hips, pulled hard against his body.

Then, back to reality as he stepped back, pulling out of me, making me feel as though I had been turned inside out. I screamed as he did so, then he slapped my flank.

“Today, ponygirl, your training is now finished and you will meet your Owner; and I have been paid in full for my efforts".

I turned to beg him to stay with me, but by then he was unshackling me from the rail.

Who would ever have imagined that I, a mere ponygirl could get so much satisfaction from such a basic human action.

Later, of course, I realised that I had become so much pony by then, that perhaps I had inherited real pony re-actions as well. Perhaps my training was responsible for that.

After all, ponies did not have any choice as to their mating partners.

He stood watching me as I recovered. He produced a damp cloth and passed it to me, watching as I slid it between my thighs, wiping away the fluids from my body.

He pointed to the harness, which he had brought with him

“Dress, Ponygirl”, he said, with a slight smile. Then he stood to one side as I tried to harness myself for the very first time.

The waist belt, I managed easily, and the bridle, complete with pretty plumage, bit, breast straps and high-heeled shoes.

Chapter 6


Once he had tightened straps here and there, he took the reins in his hands and ordered, “Walk on, ponygirl, walk on”.

Out of my stall and into the yard, I moved, then, guided by him using my reins, I stepped out of the yard onto the track.

“High step, now, ponygirl, the best you have ever been”, and to emphasise his order, he cropped my left flank, not hard, but making sure that he had my attention.

I high stepped along the track, into the trees, and was beginning to enjoy myself when he cropped my again and ordered, “Trot, ponygirl, trot”.

He controlled my speed with the reins as I pranced along the track, my plume waving gaily above my head, my tail swishing across the backs of my legs.

I began to enjoy myself; I had not to think of anything other than what my instructions would be and do nothing other than obey them.

My mind wandered, once I had settled into a regular pace, my shooves clip-clopping rhythmically on the hard track.

I thought about Firestorm and how our contact had given me so much pleasure and support, and hoped against hope that we could spend more time with each other.

For, after I had been taken by Robert I realised how much I had missed intimate contact with another human being, or even another pony; for I now realised that was what my future was to be, an animal, a workhorse, a plaything at the beck and call of my minders, my owners, the members and their friends and associates.

I was to have no say in my actions, my treatment or my future; those were decisions already taken and made for me.

I trotted on, aware from time to time of Robert’s whip caressing me across the shoulders as he trotted silently behind me, my reins held loosely in his hands.

More thoughts flashed through my mind as I automatically performed my by now normal act.

No more mincing elegantly on high heels, silk and satin skirts flowing around my stocking clad legs. My rich, dark hair would no longer flow over my bare shoulders; I would never again feel the tugs of elegant nylon stockings attached to lace trimmed suspenders or feel the soft, delicate fabrics of a bra enclose and excite my breasts.

I would no longer secretly thrill to the whistles of big, burly builders, hanging from scaffolding on some building site as I minced past them.

My life now was to be glooves, shooves, bridles, bits and harnesses. And whips and crops, better not forget them, I thought.

Along the track I pranced, my high heels tapping loudly on the hard track, through the woods and then out into the open air, where I saw ahead of us, Castle Brno, which had been my home in the far past, or so it seemed to be.

We rounded the corner of the castle and there, standing before us in the formal garden stood one of the Members.

Dressed as though for an evening out, she wore a beautiful white, off the shoulder gown, a diamante tiara in her blonde hair and a white clutch bag in her hand.

OH, how I would have loved such a gown!

Robert flicked the reins on my shoulder, “High step, ponygirl, high step”, he murmured and once more I raised by legs level with the ground as we trotted past the onlooker.

Once a hundred yards past her, he reined me in, turned me around and said, ”Walk on, careful now, high step”.

We paraded past the watching woman, another hundred yards and again I was turned and high stepped back to a spot in front of the Member.

She said nothing, but with the whisper and swish of expensive fabrics, she stepped up to me, reaching out and touching my heaving breasts, slipping her thumb over my erect, hard nipples and watching carefully as they hardened even more.

She walked carefully round me, touching my flanks, my buttocks, her fingers sliding over my sweat wet skin. She tugged on harness straps and swished my tail, before coming to my front again.

“Open”, she murmured, and Robert stepped forward, slipping his fingers into my mouth, making me open my mouth as wide as I could.

She stared into my mouth, as I moved my tongue over my metal bit, trying to moisten my dry lips.

She nodded. “I shall accept her”, she said to Robert, “Have her ready for late afternoon, if you will”.

He bowed, “Certainly Madam, will you want a carriage?” She nodded her assent.

“What name should she have, Madam, then I can have it made for her stable”.

She looked directly at me a slight smile on her lips.

“Nyteflyte”, she said, “Nyteflyte will always remind her of her one really big mistake”.

Robert nodded. Then said to me, “Nyteflyte, honour your Owner.”

I dropped to my knees, eyes downcast, knees apart and my hands on my thighs.

“This evening”, she said, then turned and glided elegantly across the lawn, disappearing through the French windows.

Robert trotted me back through the woods to the stables, where he stripped my harness from me and allowed me time in my loose box.

When he next came for me, he had a board in his hands which he showed me with a smile on his face.

“Here, ponygirl, see your new name from this moment on”, and he turned the board so that I could see it.