Just in time she swallowed the words: “Its not fair!!!” She just managed to prevent her throat from yelling it. Her last reaction had already resulted in an increase of time of punishment from 48 to 72 hours and she feared that would be already more than enough. Furthermore, protest was not allowed anyway. She lowered her head and mumbled “As master commands” but in her heart there was a terrible storm. She knew she had gone too far. Slapping Master on his fingers was no behaviour fit for a pony-slave girl. Yet it just happened in a cosy atmosphere.

However, verdict was spoken and she had to endure it, for the next 72 hours.

Without warning he closed her wrist (captured as always in their heavy steel cuffs that most people thought were eccentric jewelry, just like her ever-closed steel collar) with a padlock on her back. This was followed by a couple of cuffs around her elbows, connected with a short chain, just long enough to ensure a long possible stay in them but efficient in preventing her in using her arms or hands.

Her headgear, fortunately with the small bit, followed and was closed tightly around her hed. Left and right came the blinders, preventing her to see anything besides straight ahead. The pony within became more and more active.

Master tore her (cheap) t-shirt from her upper body and removed the threads. Her (not so cheap) skirt was handled with more care.. She was now ‘dressed in her bare skin and the always present steel cuffs. This was not enough. Master produced her heavy pony harness and started to buckle her up. Inch by inch her body was enclosed by the tight leather. The wide collar (over the steel one) was tightened until the last buckle hole. Her chest worked hard to get enough air in her lungs and her belly tried (in vain) to relax and expand.

Put down on the floor she watched Master to produce a set of ankle-boots. Instead of a sole, a horseshoe was touching the floor and the heel was missing completely. After putting them on she learned that it would take some practice to walk on them.

The rubber band between her buttocks was pulling her lips down there aside while she was trying to find her balance on the unusual footwear.

There was no balance allowed, he folded her upper body over the table and inserted the heavy butt-plug, with the long black ponytail made from her very own hair, in the intended opening, held in place by the rubber crotch-bands of the harness.

Meanwhile she was completely ‘gone’. The pony within was completely in charge now. She was no longer even aware that there was a long 72 hour time before her.

Master brought her out in the garden and affixed her to the sulky, that was always there, ready to be used. A burning stroke with the whip over her bare bottom told her is was time to go to work. With all her strength she pulled the sulky out of the garden, into the woods. She knew there might be people in the woods, but she no longer cared, she was a pony now.

Slowly getting used to her new footwear, she worked hard. Master steered her with tiny pulls on the leads and she was completely happy. Finally they arrived at the small restaurant in the woods. Two men already sat there, talking to each other. Master did take no notice, bound his pony to the bicycle-rack next to the terrace and sat down to order a cup of coffee.

The two men looked, and looked again, but did not react. The waitress, who was already used to this special client and happy with the extra attraction his pony provided, brought the coffee. Master relaxed.

Meanwhile she got down on her knees (which Master allowed) and rested, since she knew her ‘ordeal’ was not over yet.