That evening a stable girl carefully removed my bit, tut tutting as she saw how much blood there was around my mouth. Then she unharnessed me, and replaced my collar and chain.

She said nothing all the time she was attending to me and once ready, she led me again to the showers for my daily session of indignity with the old man, who again took great delight in fondling me as he attended to my ablutions and shower. My skin crawled as his hands groped over my body.

As I lay on my meagre bed that night, my mouth still very sore from the bit, I cursed the day I had seen the advert for Castle Brno.

Morning dawned and again I had to endure the ignominy of the showers and the old man’s attention before again wolfing down my early morning food and drink.

A stable girl harnessed me that day, Robert having decided that he was quite happy for them to do it.

She murmured things like, “Good ponygirl”, “Steady, ponygirl”, and “My, my, you are a good ponygirl”, as I stood, docile as she fitted my first real harness to my body.

Thankfully, not the snatch bit, but the normal rubber covered bar, that I could hold fairly comfortably in my teeth.

Side blinkers and a short red plume to the top of my head, fixed to my bit straps.

As she fitted a wide, rigid neck collar, curving down between my breasts, she stroked my flanks and waist, calming my urge to somehow fight back. Then a single strap, from the bottom of the collar, led down my body to my waist belt and ended a ring. Once she had that carefully attached, she led another strap from the lower edge of the belt, pulling it back between my thighs, back up to the waist belt. She then pulled it quite firmly, easing it carefully between my thighs and buttocks, securing it to the back of my belt. A further strap was then attached from the belt to the back of my collar and again, carefully adjusted.

Wrist and ankle straps followed; my wrists secured to my belt at the back, and finally, she made careful adjustments to the whole harness, tightening some straps so that I was fully aware of my new trappings, cutting as they did, into my nether regions.

Once satisfied, she took hold of my reins and led me to the Carousel Room where I found Robert waiting for me.

He walked slowly over to me, “Now, ponygirl, some more instruction for you to add to all the others.”

“When you first see myself or any of the other trainers, you will show your submission to us by bowing, is that understood”. I stood petrified, feeling new sensations as my harness dug into my bare skin. All I could do was nod my head in understanding.

“Good. Then do so now and do not forget to do so in the future”.

I dipped my head before him, leaning slightly forward as I did so.

His open hand appeared in front of me and I saw a sugar cube in the palm.

He moved his hand to my mouth. “Good, your reward, ponygirl, the first of many, I hope”.

Tentatively, I leaned further forward to his hand and with my tongue extended over my bit, managed to work the cube around my bit and into my mouth.

Just another step down the road to my future.

The days stretched into weeks and I lost all conception of time; I only knew that it was day or night. I never saw a clock at all.

My training continued, sometimes fully harnessed, sometimes almost naked. Inside and out it made no real difference, although I did perform better outside in the fresh air and sun, the warmth and breezes on my skin.

Then, a new experience, shooves. I remembered Amelia querying them once only to be told it had been a mistake. No real explanation had ever been offered.

Now, I found out the truth.

A pair of boots with a steeply slanting foot and no heel. The soles were shod with steel horseshoes with steel studs at the very back of the sole.

Almost like standing on tiptoe; but not quite.

Robert led me round the Carousel Room on the first day I wore them, making sure that I did not fall over.

He was very forgiving as I stumbled and staggered on the end of a lunge rein.

“We need you too much to have you trip and injure yourself”, he told me. “We have a lot of money invested in you.”

The styles were changed over the following years and by then; I had found them almost preferable to the usual ‘girlie’ high heels.

They added a certain amount of…..I don’t know how to describe it….OOOOMMPPHH is the best I can think of. Certainly when I wore them I did feel superior.

And so it went on, training, lunge reins, trotting, walking, high stepping and other things as well.

A whole new etiquette is what they instilled in me to the point that I lived as a ponygirl, breathed as a ponygirl and had no memory of being anything other than a ponygirl.

I suppose, after a while, I came to accept and even love my new life style.

I had no worries, I had companionship with the others, I was pampered and cared for and had only to wonder what I would be harnessed to that day.

So far as the shooves are concerned, I tended to wear a pair near to high heels, but with tilted soles and no heel. I wore them later, once I was installed in the ordinary stables with the others, and where we were given some latitude.

Just when I thought that nothing more could happen to me, it did.

I was harnessed one morning with full-length shooves, waist belt, and neck corset with a through strap (this is the one that stretches from my throat, between my thighs and back up to the back of my neck).

Instead of the usual bit, the stable girl inserted a red ball gag into my mouth before leading me to the Carousel Room and the waiting Robert.

He said, “You are now almost finished with your training, ponygirl, and now is the time to introduce you to something that every ponygirl wears with pride, your ponytail”.

So saying, from behind his back he produced a long blonde ponytail attached to a tapered rubber plug.

I could only stare I horror at what he held in his hands and tighten my buttocks involuntarily.

The very thought of that being inserted into my body made me feel weak at the knees.

To cut a long story short, it took two stable girls and Robert to introduce me to my ultimate pony accessory, my tail.

The girls held me over a wooden hitching rail and Robert first slid his gel-coated fingers between my buttocks. Then, carefully, slowly, he pressed the plug between my clamped and protesting buttocks.

I screamed behind my gag and tried to kick out with my shooves, but my resistance was futile as the appendage slid easily into place with a ‘plop’ that I thought I could hear as well as feel and the plug settled into place. I was complete.

Once upright, I made muffled protests behind my gag and tossed my body all over the place, on the end of my lunge rein, but all that happened was I felt the tail swirling around my legs as I twisted and turned.

It took the rest of that day and the next to finally realise that I was now a real ponygirl.

The tail was removed at night before the showers and inserted again the following morning after the morning shower.

Later, I was to feel naked without it and that is how most of the others felt as well, but oh, it was nice to have it out!

In time, I, like the rest, inserted it myself and took it out as well.

I came to love the feel of my silky tresses swirling around the backs of my legs and became really proud to wear it. Of course, they were changed to match the harnesses.

One morning after being harnessed by the stable girl, I was led through the Carousel Room to another, in the middle of which stood a wooden dais.

She pointed to the structure. “Kneel on that, ponygirl and stay there”, she ordered.

I knelt on the edge, my legs and feet over the edge and waited.

Soon, the door opened again and through the door appeared a totally naked man, except for a black leather

horses head over his own.

He stood looking at me and I saw he had a massive erection. He uttered a sort of guttural animal noise that seemed to echo inside his mask.

His erection waving stiffly, he approached me, moving round behind me, and then I felt him between my parted legs.

Too terrified to move and knowing that if I did I would be punished, I felt him astride my hips, the insides of his legs gripping my flanks.

He reached down and his hands stroked up my spine, then reaching round to my belly.

I felt my tail pulled to one side and then he lowered himself so that he was slightly behind my buttocks.

His hands held me firmly as he pulled slowly on me so that I moved back towards him.

Then suddenly, his engorged organ touched me and I flinched. I felt him search between my buttocks, rooting under me, then, as he found what he was searching for, he pulled hard on my hips and at the same time thrust into me.

I screamed behind my bit, my head as far back as I could get it as he pushed and pushed again, each time reaching further into my body. I heard his animal grunts behind his mask as he now moved easily inside my lubricated vagina.

For my life, I could do no more than thrust my hips backwards and up allowing him easier entrance, as I realised that although he was raping me, I was still prepared to accept the part of mare to his stallion.

I became more and more excited and started to move my body in unison to his, my breathing becoming heavier and heavier as I begged for climax.

His animal noises increased inside his mask and he lifted me from my knees and thrust as hard as he could into me, holding my compliant and accepting body hard to him as we reached our climaxes together.

I thrust as hard as I could, backwards into him, as we climaxed together, tightening my vaginal muscles in an effort to hold him inside me for as long as possible.

He held me hard to him as he made short, sharp thrusts into me and I felt our combined body liquids start to trickle down the inside of my thigh.

He held me hard as his hot semen flowed into me.

Finally, with an animal grunt, he fell out of me and stood up. A final noise like a horse neighing escaped from the mask and he walked to the door, leaving me twitching and shuddering from my experience.

Seconds elapsed before the door opened again and admitted the stable girl, smiling at me, who led me, still in the throws of my encounter to a hitching bar where she tethered me.

I felt totally degraded really, but at the same time, I had never experienced a climax like that in my whole life.

I was still shaking when another stable girl came and led me to another room, where she divested me of my bridle and bit.

Standing in front of her, my eyes lowered in my shame, I waited as she pressed a button and from the roof descended a wooden frame. Hinged into a two part stocks, she draped it around my throat, easing my two hands into the other two holes before closing the stocks and padlocking it place around my neck. A touch of the button and the stocks moved upwards before stopping, holding me upright.

I opened my mouth to protest but a finger over her lips served as a warning to stay silent.

A further wooden frame was fastened around my ankles and again padlocked in place, my feet about two feet apart.

I hung there, immobilised, as she removed the rest of my harness.

Her final act was to attach two nipple clips with bells, to me breasts before lifting the frame a little higher so that I was almost on tiptoe.

Then she left.

Robert entered several minutes later. “Ponygirl”, he said, “You have completed your training except for today and this session will be your last before you join the other ponies and start to earn your living"”

I turned slightly towards him, frightened at what may be about to happen.

As I did so, the door opened behind him and a peasant started to enter.

Behind him, I saw a ponygirl harnessed to a small waggon and my immediate thought was that she looked like Amelia.

Robert turned angrily at the interruption and thrust the old man out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

When he turned back to me, he held, in his hand, a crop.

In the following few minutes he cropped me six strokes to my right buttock followed by six to my left buttock, each stroke with a period of about 10 seconds between them.

Hard enough to leave angry red weal’s across my flesh but not hard enough to draw blood.

Then I was left hanging in the stocks crying my eyes out with the pain and my body seemingly on fire.

A long time later, three stable girls released me from the boards.

Saying nothing at all to me, they harnessed me with a metal waist belt, metal neck yoke; bridle and metal bit, complete with red and black plume, then, finally, new shooves. Oddly, for some unknown reason no tail.

Wrists secured to back of my belt; they led me, laughing and talking amongst themselves from the room and out into the courtyard.

To my horror, I found a cage on wheels, between the shafts were four ponygirls, standing, docile, apart from the occasional movement of their metal shod shooves on the hard ground.

Harness clinked as they looked towards me when I appeared and the stable girls laughed.

“Another pony companion for you all”, said one of them as they led me to the back of the cage.

A barred gate stood open. The stable girl pointed, “In, ponygirl, in”, she said.

Terrified, I obeyed, having to stoop at first, and then dropping to my knees once I was inside the low cage.

The gate shut behind me, was padlocked by one of them who then climbed onto the drivers seat.

I heard a whip crack and the order, “Forward”, given; the waggon started to move with a jerk and I started on the next part of my weird and frightening captivity.

We travelled slowly through thick woods, along a winding dirt road, seeing peasants at the sides of the road and on three occasions, waggons standing, with ponygirls in harness whilst peasants filled the waggons with firewood.

All of the peasants stopped to watch as we passed, and the ponygirls did as well; nodding their heads in welcome, bridle bells tinkling as they did so.

Then, finally the cage was drawn into another courtyard and I knew that I had arrived at my final destination.

Ponygirl stables, Home Farm.

My drover dismounted, opened the cage door and beckoned me out.

Stiff as I was, I obeyed with alacrity, standing before her, eyes downcast.

She reached for my neck chain then led me, clip-clopping behind her, across the courtyard into a stable block, past stalls on either side, all empty, but all with names above them, to the last stall.

In front of the open gate, she pointed, “There, ponygirl, your new home, the lap of luxury for you now”.

Then she laughed as I entered the stall, my shooves clattering on the stone floor.

“Make yourself at home”, was her parting shot as she closed and locked the gate.

I stood alone, not sure what I could or could not do, now.

Looking around, I saw a drop- leaf table at the end, next to my new bed, which was against the stall wall.

On the opposite wall was an assortment of hooks, rings and chains, all metal.

At the end away from the gate was a small dressing table and mirror on which stood an assortment of make-up jars and bottles. Looking closer at them, I realised that they were mine from the castle.

A stool stood in front of the dressing table.

For the rest of the day, I wandered around my small stall, sitting on my bed and then inspecting myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, noting my harness, my hair, my eyes and mouth, hoping against hope that I would be allowed to use my make-up.

I heard the clatter of hooves, or shooves; I was never certain, as well as women’s voices and neighing sounds but could not really see who or what was making them.

Stable girls for certain, but were there were real horses in here as well, or just ponygirls like myself.

Then, more shouting and talking and the clatter of metal on stone indicated something was happening.

It turned out to be the return of the ponygirls from their labours and the stable girls unharnessing them for showers.

The stall gate swung open and there was a stable girl, smiling at me, “Come here, ponygirl, showertime for you all”.

Minutes later I was standing in the central aisle naked, except for a waist belt to which my wrists were secured at the back and leather collar and chain. Chained to a central chain, I was last in line. None of the other ponygirls tried to speak to me and I said nothing as we were led in a long line from the stables to the shower block.

First, as was by now perfectly normal, I was toileted by a peasant before being separated from the others, washed and dried by another old man dressed in rags. As usual, his hands searched all over my body as he carried out his task, but by then, although I still hated what was being done, I accepted his groping as being the norm. I had to, I could nothing about it.

Once more chained in line, we were taken back to the stables where food stood waiting in the drop down table. Wrists released, I ate with relish.