Our work was quite varied, and over the next few days, five other ponygirls and I spent most days in the woods, working with the peasants.

The men were cutting down trees in areas away from the main tracks and we were harnessed together to drag the cleaned tree trunks to the nearest access point.

For this, we wore thick leather chaps to protect our otherwise bare legs, and special boots with heavily cleated soles to grip the forest floor.

We were chained to a single central chain, which was looped round the ends of the tree trunks we were hauling. This meant that if we allowed the chain to slacken, then it would slip from the tree, and that made the men angry.

Whilst five men cut and trimmed the trunks, we were in the charge of one man, who used his whip to his advantage as we staggered and stumbled, dragging our loads to the track.

We managed to drag seven trees to the track, that first day and by the time we had completed three trips, we were exhausted, sweaty, scratched and filthy dirty.

By the end of the day, we were all in tears as we made our last journey.

Back on the track, the peasants loaded the trunks onto a waggon and we were then hitched to it and made to draw it to Home Farm, the peasants riding on the waggon as well.

Having been told that we were to carry out the same work again, we dreaded the next day.

That day seemed never to end and by the time we had returned again to Home Farm, we were all totally exhausted, limbs aching, with scratches and bruises over most of our bodies, even though we had tried to be careful.

That evening after our showers, all we could do was slump on our beds and forego the evening get together.

The third day was the turn of some of the other ponies, whilst we were moved to less strenuous work.

The Farm Director introduced a system of moving us around the daily tasks so that we were all treated the same. That meant a day in the fields, a day in the woods, other tasks like tidying up the estate, keeping the castle supplied with food and water and all the tasks that had to be carried out for the well being of our mistresses as well as ourselves.

The worst of them all was undoubtedly wood cutting, for all of us were worn out, stiff and covered in scratches and dirt at the end of each day. Thankfully, this task was not a regular thing.

As well as the normal work we carried out, we still had training sessions with one or other of the Trainers, continuing our basic training in high stepping, trotting, lunge rein and anything else they could devise of an equestrian nature.

I was harnessed in a carriage with five other ponygirls and we spent three days being put through our paces until we were adjudged good enough to be used by the Members.

I had, of course, been in tandem before, but this was something altogether new. It was desperate to begin with, all of us out of step pulling at different speeds and generally getting in each other’s way.

Shooves can do a lot of harm to flesh under these conditions and all of us finished the days with grazed and torn legs before we finally got into a regular stride with each other.

So, added to our work duties, we were now also used to transport Members and their guests around the vast estate and the local villages, which they found quaint and odd.

We just found them sub- standard hovels inhabited by dirty minded, ignorant and poorly clothed peasants. We hated to be stared at by them as we stood in the carriage shafts whilst our passengers inspected the houses and alleys, but there was, of course, nothing we could do about it.

Cleanliness in the villages was obviously something less than a virtue.

My world changed one day after being allocated to the waggon taking wood to the castle.

We were all harnessed in heavy work tack and all of us had heavy black leather corsets laced so tightly that we could hardly breathe and full head bridle helmets with integrated bits.

Our arms were encased in above elbow lace-up leather sheaths and we wore full-length lace up black leather shooves. One of four, I was harnessed as lead and quite enjoyed the leisurely journey to the castle; at least I could see where we were going, for a change, rather than just the back of another pony.

Apart from the creak of our leather harness, the muted clinking of our chains and the soft clip-clop of our shooves on the dirt track and the birds in the trees, all was almost a wonderful silence as we wended our way to our destination.

Once there, however, as we stood in the yard, a maid came out from the servant’s entrance and I realised with a shock that it was Marietta, our maid from better times.

She seemed not at all shocked or even slightly surprised to see women dressed and used as draught animals.

In fact, she spoke to the driver and pointed to us. He nodded and crossed to us, unhitching me, and then tugging on my reins, leading me to Marietta.

Saying nothing, but smiling at me, she led me, clip-clopping into the castle along a corridor and into a large room.

Another shock. My God!! It was Miss Black, the Secretariat manager. She stood at the side of the room and watched as I was led in front of her.

I stopped in the centre of the room, in front of me a large plain wood table.

Marietta dropped my reins and stepped back.

Miss Black spoke, “Ponygirl, hands on the table please”. I stepped forward and did as I was told, exposing my flanks for her.

Her hands moved over my buttocks, swishing my tail across the backs of my legs. “Pretty, very pretty”, she commented, her hands moving up my spine, finally to my head where she flicked my ponytail hairdo back and forward a few times.

“Marietta, what have we on order for this ponygirl”,? I heard her say.

The maid started to read out what was in store for me, most to do with my present way of life, but others that at least gave me some hope of a change in my employment in the future. I was to get lingerie and shoes as well as bridles, bits, shooves, glooves and harnesses.

I knew from seeing the other girls that glooves were a sort of glove encasing the hand into almost a mitten like glove, but shaped like a small hoof. Once on, we would be unable to use our hands.

But it was the lingerie and shoes that I paid most attention to.

“Everything except a name, ponygirl, you need a name now”, said Miss Black.

Then she took hold of my bit ring, dragging my head round to face her.

I lowered my eyes.

“Well, now you have a name”, she said, “You are now ‘Rainbow’.

“Don’t you like that name, Rainbow”? She asked.

I shook my head vigorously and stamped my shoove on the stone floor.

She laughed as she handed the reins to the maid. “Take RAINBOW back to the yard”.

Three minutes later, I was once more back in the shafts of the waggon, and we set of for Home Farm.

In the showers that evening one of the girls asked me where I had been taken to at the castle and I explained that I had been told my name was to be Rainbow. “Oh“, she commented, “That means you have an Owner now”.

Led back to the stables, I found that a nameplate had been added to the bar above my stall gate.

RAINBOW

It read.

I do have to say, although I did not care much for the name, at least I was not just a ‘ponygirl’ all the time and that was something, I suppose.

That evening, the others all congratulated me on having an Owner now, and such a pretty name, most of them thought.

The girl I had been harnessed with the very first time was now Aurora, she told me, with pride.

A few days later, after the morning shower and rub down, I had a metal belt fastened round my waist and a neck collar round my throat before being led by my collar to a cellar, where I was fastened to a thick wooden post by my waist belt, ankle collars and then my wrists, pulling me as close to it as possible. My wrists were fastened to a hanging chain, which was then drawn up so that I was standing on the balls of my feet.

Having done that, she left the cellar. I could feel warmth on my bare skin and the occasional sound of falling embers.

Then, footsteps and my blinkers were taken off.

William stood before me. I blinked in the low light, and then saw the source of the heat. In the centre of the cellar stood a brazier, burning red hot and with a metal shank protruding from it.

I screamed and twisted in my bonds in a vain attempt to free myself as William slid the metal shank from the fire.

I screamed and screamed as loud as I could, all the time struggling in my captivity as he stepped towards me, the red hot metal seeming to get bigger and bigger as he approached me.

I felt the heat intensify and screamed again, finally just hanging loosely in my shackles, eyes tight closed as I realised that I could not prevent what was to happen.

Then, the iron touched me, a quick, searing heat making my skin actually sizzle for a nanosecond, followed by intense deep pain that burned deeper and deeper into the soft flesh of my buttock.

I caught the acrid smell of burning flesh in my nostrils and thought that I could not remain sane after such treatment.

Then, mercifully, I fainted, the smell of searing human flesh still in my nostrils.

When I regained my senses, I was still hanging in my bonds, my flank still burning with a fierce pain that I never thought possible.

I dozed fitfully, crying at the memory of what had happened to me, finally getting back onto the balls of my feet and taking the weight of my arms and wrists.

My flank still burned, the pain only slightly abated.

I moved as much as I was able, flexing muscles, changing feet, but nothing alleviated the burning in my flank.

I cried in my predicament as the brazier burned, a fierce, angry red, the metal shank once more sunk deep in it.

All was quiet except for the embers settling in the brazier as cinders dropped to the floor and the clink of my chains as I hung, trying to get comfortable.

The cellar door swung open to reveal a smiling William followed by two stable girls carrying harness in their arms.

He quickly released my from the post, catching me in his arms as I collapsed.

Water was washed around my face and forced between my lips until I felt well enough to stand, although I did that with unsteady difficulty.

How my brand burned, now that more blood was coursing through my veins as a result of my movement.

The stable girls put the items they carried onto a table on the far side of the cellar and William spoke, for the first time that day.

“Now, Rainbow, you are, I suppose, curious as to who your Owner is”.

I could only nod, although to be honest, at that time I could not have cared less.

“We will dress you and then you are to be presented to her”, he said and nodded to the two girls.

When they had completed their task, I have to admit I looked fantastic.

A breast encompassing leather corset, cut high over the hips, the cups shaped as flower petals.

My bridle, black leather and metal studded worn almost as a tiara over my brow allowed my long blonde hair to flow freely back over my shoulders and with pretty side blinkers that were more for show than anything else, I think.

A lovely red feather plume on a metal stand was attached to the top of my bridle.

Full length black leather shooves on my feet completed my harness and the stable girls declared me complete.

Even though pain still flowed through my flank, from the brand and was still considerable, I was all too aware that something else was to follow.

William appeared again, checked my harness and my now angry red buttock, before taking my reins in his hand and leading me from the cellar.

I chewed on my bit to try to control the pain as I moved slowly behind him, my shooves clattering softly on the stone floor as I was led out of the building and across the courtyard to another old building.

Led through the door, I saw with horror, Miss Black standing dressed in jodhpurs, hacking jacket and riding boots. In her hand a riding crop, on her lips a smile.

William said, “Greet your Owner, Rainbow”, and obediently, I did as my training demanded.

But really, for God’s sake, Miss Black of all people. How on earth had this happened? I became quite frightened at what may happen to me if I was left in her care. But to be actually owned by her as well, that really did terrify me.

Standing docile in front of her, my eyes lowered as directed during my training, I waited on her.

She strolled over to me, the crop in her hand. Slowly, she slid the crop under my chin, lifting it so that I looked into her eyes.

“Pretty, Rainbow, very pretty, and I see you have born my brand very well indeed”.

I could say or do nothing. She stood to one side and looked closely at the large red area surrounding her mark. “That should heal very nicely in about a week or so”, she commented.

Then she stood in front of me again.

“Now then, Rainbow, I gave you that name as I was entitled to, because I bought you”.

She smiled at the look on my face. “You wanted to continue working for us and that is what is happening now, and you will continue to work for us until we decide otherwise. All I can say to you at the moment is, So long as you do as you are told when you are told, and then we shall get along famously. But cause any trouble whatsoever and believe me, retribution is fast and precise”.

She said no more to me, but to William, “Thank you William, take Rainbow away and rest her for the rest of the day and make sure that she has medical attention to her rump, we do not want an infection”.

I actually spent the rest of the day tethered to a post at the entrance to the courtyard, on show to all and sundry. Stable girls and peasants all came to see my mark and one of the stable girls carefully rubbed antiseptic salves over it several times during the day.

I could only stand, moving from shoove to shoove, or move around the post to which I was hitched and chew on my bit as the day passed slowly through noon towards evening.

Every hour a peasant gave me water from a pail and all I could do was release my body liquids into the dust of the track.

By the time I was freed and led to the showers, my mark was still quite red and angry but was not quite so painful.

The peasant, that evening was careful not to cause me any undue pain as he soaped and sluiced me down.

It took almost two weeks before my brand was finally deemed to be clear of any infection and by then I did not feel it at all.

When I got the opportunity to see it in a mirror, I saw what looked like the letter ‘P’ about an inch and a half long and about an inch across.