Miss Black told us that Amelia had been rushed back to London to complete urgent business concerning her divorce.

She had confided in me that she was at Castle Brno as a direct result of his actions by using her name and the bank she worked for in some of his grandiose financial schemes.

Even so, her sudden departure was something of a ‘seven day wonder’, after which, once that was over, we all settled back into our normal routine.

More and more of the Members arrived making sure that we were fully employed in looking after their welfare and ensuring that they gave no cause for complaint.

Miss Black told us very firmly, that any disruption or oversight would be looked upon very severely indeed. “These ladies are the absolute owners of this Association”, she said, “And must have the very highest service available”.

Not that we saw much of them; we never went past the Servant’s Hall door which led into the main castle apartments, although we did catch sight of them from time to time in the Members Area outside of the castle.

We were confined to our part and the walled garden, which had been set aside for our sole use.

We amused ourselves by dressing up with all sorts of ‘girlie’ fripperies and on several occasions, the three of us who were left, with Miss Black, treated ourselves to a sort of gala evening, as did the Members in their part of the castle. This, however, was never allowed when the castle was full of Members.

At least it helped to keep boredom at bay.

I particularly loved a gown that had a delicious red over-corset and which set of my blonde hair, of which I was very proud.

So, for several months, we worked quite hard and played when given the opportunity.

I have always found the feeling of enclosure and restriction that really girlie underwear gave, to be erotic; just the pressures and firmness they forced on my body made me aware of my femininity all the time I wore them.

In particular, I wore a basque which I had bought in London before coming to Castle Brno, with front fastening clips and pretty bows at breast and hem. I would dress in it carefully in the late evenings, adding pearls and wispy panties and mince around my apartment on high heels, imagining that I was on the other side of the Servant’s Hall door. Queen of my Kingdom, or, should it be Queen of my Queendom, for that is what Castle Brno really was.

I felt so superior during those evenings and wished so badly that I were one of the Mistresses and not just a servant, even though at least I was not a mere maid.

That would have been truly awful, to have to curtsy and scrape to the Members and to carry out their every wish and order.

As the weeks passed, we became so familiar with the computer system that Amelia had set up for us, that we began to find we had more and more leisure time on our hands, but no real way to spend it.

Susan and Elizabeth seemed very happy with our new-found spare time, and frankly, they spent almost all their time together and I could only come to the conclusion that they were lovers. Not that I minded, really, but it meant that I was by myself.

One evening, after a most delightful dinner, we were in our sitting room with our brandies and coffee with Miss Black, talking small talk, when I blurted out to her that I was getting fed up with my life here and wanted to return to London.

Miss Black, I could see, was rather taken aback and pursed her lips slightly, a sure sign that she was annoyed, although she made no direct comment. For the rest of the evening, she seemed very thoughtful, saying very little.

In the hall later, she said, “If you went back to London, would you like to carry on working for us in Head Office”? “That would be ideal”, I replied, “I could move in with one of my girl friends until I could find my own place and as I had worked here, I would have a valuable insight into the workings of the Association”.

“Good”, she nodded, “I shall see what the Members have to say about that”. With that, we parted.

Three days later, she called me into her office and told me that the Members were agreeable to my move to London, “So,” said Miss Black, with a smile on her lips, “You may pack your belongings and we shall have them taken to London with the next car”.

That evening, Susan thought it a good idea, as I was experienced with the book keeping at Castle Brno and also she was pleased that she would have a little more work to do.

Elizabeth was rather non-committal, as that would restrict even more their little circle.

That night, I went to bed a very pleased and happy girl looking forward to getting back to civilisation and some real night life.

I slipped into a warm, perfumed bath, with perfumed nightlights around me and thought of the nights out in London that beckoned. I had not really thought how much I missed dancing and clubbing until I lay down in that bath and closed my eyes.

But…. It wasn’t London nightlife I woke up to.

It was a nightmare.

I was cold when I woke in pitch darkness, with a thumping headache.

I could not remember falling asleep and it took me some time to remember that I had been having a bath.

I was lying on my back, my arms stretched above my head and I was lying on something that was cold, hard and prickled my bare skin. I tried to move my arms down so that I could at least prop myself up on my elbows and found I could not move them very far, at all. My wrists seemed to be fastened together and I realised, as I heard a chain clink softly, that I was chained to something. I tried to sit up and felt a coldness round my throat, realising with abject terror, that it was a heavy metal collar and that it too had a chain attached to it. I shook my head; hearing and feeling the collar and chain react to my movement. My headache became unbearable and I think I fainted at that point for I remember nothing more until my eyes opened and I saw a dim light glowing through a small, barred window, set high on the opposite wall.

Enough light to see my surroundings. I lay on a bale of hay, completely naked. My arms were still stretched above my head and I saw that indeed, my wrists were strapped together and from them, a chain led to a ring in the wooden wall. Another chain led from my throat to a ring set in the wooden roof of what was a small cubicle, rather like a horsebox, I remember thinking.

y headache returned and reached a crescendo I cried and cried, unable to even cradle my bursting head in my chained hands.

Then I heard a noise, wood scraping against wood and opening my eyes, I saw what I could only describe as an old hag, dressed in rags appear through the gate. She was carrying a wooden tray on which stood a plate of food and a large metal jug of water and this she set down on the straw covered floor beside me. Staring at me with no expression at all, she stood up and wiped her hands on a filthy apron at her waist.

“Please”, I started to speak, but she shuffled backwards through the gate before closing it and securing it again.

I rolled over as far as I could and burst into tears again.

Then a voice, a man’s broke into my self pity.

“Welcome to Home Farm, ponygirl”.

I didn’t hear all of it at first because of my sobbing, but I heard him the second time.

“Ponygirl”? That made me open my eyes, I can tell you!

I rolled over so that I could see who was there.

A man, dark skinned wearing jeans and moccasins standing looking at me, a half smile on his lips.

As my hands were secured, I could only roll over to face the wall in order to cover my nudity.

“Forget that, ponygirl”, he laughed, “You will be more open to all of us here on Home Farm than you are now, so you had better get used to it”.

I twisted my head to look up at him. “How…. Er why am I here”? I asked my voice little more than a nervous murmur.

“You, ponygirl, for that is what you now are, are here for training in your new career”.

“Mmmy….whhaaat”, I asked, my voice trembling.

“Your new career”, he repeated, “You don’t like working at the castle anymore, so now you can work at Home Farm and still serve the Members”.

I shook my head in disbelief, my headache starting up again with the exertion.

He reached to my wrist chain and loosened it from the wall ring, allowing me to sit up, my knees pressed tightly together.

He pointed to the tray on the floor, “Eat, ponygirl, eat and I shall be back in a few minutes”.

Leaving me trembling, he closed the gate behind him.

With some difficulty I managed to reach down and get the plate of food from the tray and eat it as though I had never seen food for weeks, followed by some of the water.

At least it seemed to alleviate my headache if nothing else, for even after that, I was still hungry.

I had no sooner finished eating than the gate opened and the man appeared again, taking in the empty plate and the half jug of water.

Saying nothing, he walked over to me, took the chain hanging from the roof and pulled me to my feet.

“Now then, ponygirl, you are ready for your first lesson”, he declared, “The first of many”, he added as he unlocked the chain from my collar.

Then taking hold of my wrist chain, he turned and tugged me without further ceremony through the gate and out into a large room, the floor of which was covered in loose straw.

In the centre stood a thick wooden post from floor to roof, from the top of which protruded a wooden beam about seven or eight feet long.

Two chains hung from the end of the beam.

“This, ponygirl, is the Carousel Room and that”, pointing to the central post, “Is the carousel”

He pulled me over until I stood below the end of the beam, and in mere moments, he had my wrists secured to the hanging chains, so that I stood with my arms in the air.

I stood, naked in front of him, too frightened to even think what was happening to me, my mind a complete blank

Actually, ‘frightened’ was not really the right word; I was terrified.

Once he secured me, he came to face me.

As his eyes searched across my nudity I lowered my eyes, blushing deeply, crossing my legs at the same time.

He spoke.

“Ponygirl, you will do everything I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it”.

Then he added, “Is that perfectly clear”.

I said nothing, too numb to take in what he was saying.

He repeated, “Is that perfectly clear”.

A stinging pain flashed across my thigh making me scream and jump. I saw a whip in his hand.

“Is that perfectly clear, ponygirl”, he repeated.

I whimpered, “Oh, please, what am I doing here, why are you doing this to me”.

He sighed.

“Right, ponygirl let us get this cleared up now then we can get it out of the way once and for all”.

He closed up to me, his hand reaching up and holding my chin so that I had to look at him.

“You came to work for this association and finally decided that you were bored with the terms and conditions. You wanted a change. Well, ponygirl, you have a change and you still work for the association, only now, there are no terms and conditions, so get used to it”.

“You will undergo a period of training then be put up for auction and be bought by an Owner. She will have the final say as to what you do and when you do it. She will be using you when she is in residence and when she is not, you will work for the good of the association.”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled at me. “I can assure you, ponygirl, that boredom is a word that is not normally used at Home Farm, you will be too busy to even think of the word, let alone what it means”.

I started to cry again, tears running down my cheeks into his hand, which cupped my chin.

He reached out his other hand to my breast, stroking and caressing my soft, tender skin.

His voice softened as he continued, “You will learn how to high step, trot, canter and gallop. You will be trained in the shafts of a sulky, a carriage, a coach and also a waggon for when you work for the Farm.

You will shortly be harnessed and learn how to harness yourself. You will learn all the things a ponygirl should know, and you will learn it all well, before we transfer you to the stables with the others”.

He smiled at the look of terror on my face and continued, “Once you are in the stables, you will be auctioned and your Owner will have the right and the pleasure of giving you a name, which will be yours for the rest of your stay with us”.

I started to cry again and he stepped back and his whip slashed across my other thigh.

Again I screamed and jumped, as the searing pain burned across my bare skin.

“Now, ponygirl, to work and here you will learn to walk, trot, canter and high step, so follow the carousel and listen carefully to what I tell you to do.”

I heard a whine as an electric motor came alive and suddenly, my upward stretching arms dragged me forward. I staggered a little before I found my feet and realised just what was happening.

“Very pretty, ponygirl, but I want more elegance from you, at the moment you are worse than a cart horse”.

A flick of his whip curled across my thigh made e yelp and twist away from him.

The carousel stopped and he adjusted the wrist chains, so that I was held almost on tiptoe.

“We’ll try again, ponygirl”, and the motor whirred into life again, drawing me forward, now on tiptoe, my buttocks were swaying as I followed my electric tormentor.

Several circuits later I was getting more used to it and then he started calling out instructions; “More elegance, ponygirl”, “Head up higher, ponygirl”, “Sway those hips more, ponygirl”.

Always that hated word, ponygirl, added on the end of each order.

Still in terror, I only half listened to him and as a result, suffered several strokes of his whip.

My thoughts, as I followed the carousel, were what was I doing her, how could I get away from this awful nightmare and what was to become of me if I could not get away.

All of this crowded through my mind as I was drawn relentlessly around the track to no-where by my relentless mechanical master; or was that a mistress.

Eventually, after I don’t know how long, the machine stopped and I was only aware of it when I found myself hanging from the wrist chains, my toes scraping in the straw.

He laughed. “Pay attention, ponygirl, for you will be punished from now on”.

That day never seemed to end.

I remember a bucket of water being put to my lips and some food being fed to me by a girl in a black top and jodhpurs, whilst I hung by my wrists from my mistress.

Then it all started again, the whirr of the motor, the commands, the burning across my thighs as he cropped me for not being quick enough to obey.

By the end of the day, my mind was a blank, my body ached from all the exertion and my thighs were on fire from his whip.

I just wanted to lie down and die.

I can’t really remember being released from my tormentor and half carried back to my meagre stall.

I was left slumped on the bale of straw, a rough blanket over me and a bucket of water at the side.

The gate shut and I heard the locking bar slid into place.

Later, a stable girl led me by my collar chain to the showers.

There I suffered the indignity of being made to use the toilet in public, before having my bottom wiped by an old man, dressed in rags, before being soaped and washed and then dried by him as well.

All the time, he sniggered and giggled as his rough hands searched across my body, reaching between my thighs as he soaped my body, making me lean forward as he delved between my buttocks. Even though I clenched my buttocks against his searching fingers, he just giggled more and pressed his soap-lubricated fingers deeper into my bottom.

In spite of my revulsion, I suddenly realised that my nipples hardened as he washed my breasts, a sight that did not go unnoticed by my stable girl, who smiled at my reaction.

Then led back to my stall by the stable girl where, by then, food had been placed and left to my own thoughts and fears. This was repeated every evening.

The following morning, the terror started all over again.

The terrible carousel followed later in the day by some low jumps, which my Trainer set in front of me.

At first, I tripped on the top bar only being saved from falling by my chained wrists. Each time, the carousel stopped and Robert set the jump back in place, then with no real animosity, slashed my flank with his crop before once more starting my circular track to Hell.

When I did jump to his satisfaction, he would stop the carousel and as he caressed my bare breasts and nipples whilst I stood gasping for breath, he would tell me how well I had done and how pleased he was with me. In spite of my terror, I knew my nipples hardened at his touch and he was well aware of it as well.

By the end of that nightmarish day, I was at least jumping every time and to his satisfaction as well.

And again, he wanted elegance and style.

But it was the terror of his crop and whip that made me perform so well, and I’m sure that he knew that as well.

I found out, that evening, that he was Robert and that there were also two other Trainers, William and Mark.

Once more at the end of the day, aching and totally exhausted, I was led to the showers and again underwent the indignity of the old man rummaging through my body, for that really is what he was doing, even though he washed and dried me as he did it.

Again that night, back in my bare stall, I cried myself to sleep and hoped I would die before morning.

But things like that never really happen, do they, and once more I woke to my living hell.

The dawning day brought more terror and fright to my aching body and cowed mind.

That day I was introduced to my first piece of ponygirl harness….the bit.

The day started as usual with the old woman bringing me food and the usual cackling, before she shuffled out of my stall.

Starving, as usual, I bolted down the food and drank the hot tea so as to be sure to be finished by the time my nightmare commenced.

The next time the gate opened, it was for two stable girls, both about early 20’s I would think, to enter.

Saying nothing, one of them released my chain and jerked it as a command for me to get up and follow.

Once more, I was led out into the Carousel Room as usual.

Robert stood, hands behind his back, watching as the girl fastened my wrists to the carousel.

Once that was done, he strode slowly towards me and as he did so, one of the girls stepped behind me, and grasped my hair, holding my head upright. Her companion joined her as Robert stood in front of me.

He smiled at me. “Good morning, ponygirl, I hope you slept well”. I shook my head pulling against the girl holding my head. She tugged savagely on my hair and I screamed at the pain she inflicted.

Robert smiled again and said, “Now, ponygirl, today sees a landmark point in your training; today, you are to be given your most worn item of harness, your bit”. So saying, he withdrew his hands from behind him and held up before my eyes some sort of leather strap and metal arrangement.

“Open your mouth, ponygirl”, he said and I realised that he was going to put that thing in my mouth.

Terrified, I clamped my lips tight shut, feeling a dribble of warm urine trickle down my leg.

His whip appeared from nowhere, cutting savagely across my hip, once more sending red hot fire through my body.

I opened my mouth to scream only to have the metal part of the bit thrust brutally into my mouth.

Immediately the other girl reached round and took some of the straps behind my head and I felt the metal pulled hard to the back of my mouth as she tightened and buckled them in place.

Seconds later, two more straps were led over my head, up each side of my nose and again secured behind my head.

As the bar was forced further into my mouth, I felt spikes stick into the tender flesh of my tongue and inner lips.

I gagged as I shook my head to free the awful thing from my mouth but all that happened was that the spikes dug deeper into my flesh, then I tasted blood trickling into my throat.

Then, Robert stood in front of me and took hold of the straps at the side of my mouth, forcing my head up so that I was looking directly at him.

“This, ponygirl, is a snatch bit”, he said, “And you will wear this today so that you are aware from now on that punishment is actually meant to be just that, punishment”.

He turned to the stable girls. “Finish harnessing her”, he ordered.

One of them released my wrists as the other slipped reins through metal rings at each side of my bitted mouth and tugged slightly on them.

The spikes dug into my flesh as she led me, willingly, across the room to a table and cupboard set against the wall.

They carefully fitted me with a thick, heavy leather collar at my throat, a matching belt at my hips and matching wrist and ankle collars, all set with heavy, metal rings.

Really long reins were threaded through the rings at the sides of my mouth, replacing the short ones.

Finally, a bar passed behind my back and hung by a chain from the back of my collar so that it fitted into the crook of my elbows. My wrists were then fastened to the ends of the bar in front of my body.

This had the effect of pulling my body upright and making my breasts thrust forward.

Their last act of humiliation was to fasten nipple rings to my breasts, from which hung little bells, which tinkled at the slightest movement I made.

The stable girls turned to Robert and nodded.

He nodded back and pointed to the door. They left, leaving the door open.

Robert strode over to me and took the reins in his hands, looping them until he stood beside me.

He flicked a bell with his finger, smiling as it tinkled.

“This makes sure that I know when you move”, he said.

Then, “Come, ponygirl, we are wasting training time”. So saying, he turned to the door and tugged on my reins.

GOD!! How easy it was for him to control me.

I felt every twitch and sway of the reins, transmitted to my tender, bleeding mouth as I followed him through the door.

But through the door I saw sunshine and grass and breathed fresh air through my nose and mouth again.

Fresh grass beneath my bare feet and I felt better already.

The breeze was warm and I could hear birds singing in the trees at the end of the field.

“Now, ponygirl, move away from me as far as you can”, ordered Robert and I obeyed; I could not put enough distance between us to satisfy me.

The reins tugged. The spikes dug into my mouth. I remembered now.

“Trot, ponygirl, trot around me holding your distance and make sure that you hold the lunge rein tight”.

Gripping the bit between my teeth I started to move, helped by a sharp slash of his long whip, expertly laid across my buttock.

Several times I trotted around him, high stepping as he insisted, encouraged by his whip.

Then the reins jerked and the whip flicked over my flank, “Knees higher, ponygirl, higher than that”.

I spent the rest of the day in that field, high stepping on the spot, trotting, cantering and high stepping whilst walking and trotting.

The bit snatched at my mouth time and time again and I tasted blood in my mouth almost the whole of that day. But, I obeyed every order he gave to the best of my ability. And that is what he wanted.

My rest periods were spent hitched to a rail beside a small hut at the side of the field where I was watered and towelled down by an old man in rags. Of course, he used his hands to his advantage, rummaging and search my body whilst he carried out his duties. The only time I tried to protest, he snatched on my reins and pain and blood ran in my mouth again.

My resolve at the end of that day was to invite punishment as little as humanly…. if that is the right word… possible, and that could only be achieved by obeying every command that I was given.