The girl lay huddled on the floor, after the long lonely night, she barely noticed the steel collar round her neck. The heavy chain was just long enough for her to rest her head on her arms. She sobbed still, the tears had fallen all through the darkness, in a way marking the passage of time. The sense of being alone was profound in the pitch black space, there was a rough brick wall behind her, to which her chain was securely fixed - she’d tried to pull it down, pitting all her strength against the unyielding steel. She sat upon a cool floor, sheltered from it only by a thin cloth, it smelt old, and offered little in the way of warmth. Ahead of her, she could only guess, the girl had been asleep? When she was brought in, and she had no idea of where she was, her guess of night times was merely based on the all-pervading blackness.

There was a creaking noise, she jumped, clutching her knees to her chest, trying to hide her nakedness - she had suddenly become aware that she wore only shoes. The heels of which sounded metallic against the floor. The noise continued, sounding closer now, a man spoke, but she could not make out the words. His voice seemed kind and firm, but the creaking sounds continued, growing closer. The girl realised the sounds were of multiple doors opening and closing. The random noises continued for sometime, perhaps there was food, as her tongue was suddenly thick and dry. The girl pushed her hair back off her face, eyes futily straining in the dark, trying to understand her surroundings. The feeding? Noises abated, there was quiet, then sounds of people moving. She didn’t cry out, beg for help. A part of her mind knew that it would be pointless, like an animal trapped in a hole, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, the dark had become familiar, comforting compared to facing the unknown beyond her cell?

Left alone again, in silence as well as the darkness, she sobbed quietly, then dozed, the noises of humanity had reassured her somewhat - she was not alone, what ever her fate, there would be others to bear witness. She dozed, it could have been for seconds or an hour or two, but the harsh, grating noise of her cell? Door opening brought her back to stark reality. Light poured in, blinding her. Instinctively she threw an arm across her face.

“Stand up” a voice barked, its pitch genderless, she struggled up, leaning against the wall- the shoes on her feet had no heels! They clipped against the stone of the floor, sounding oddly like an animal the voice spoke again “keep your eyes covered” there was a ‘swooshing’ noise and a jet of cold water hit her naked body. She kept her arm up to protect her eyes but drank all she could get.

“Turn round, bend over”.

Tottering on the crazy shoes she twisted round, exposing her ass and sex to the icy water, she gasped as it froze her to the core, the water finding every nook and crevasse. Still thirsty, she sucked the water that dripped off of her breasts, relieved beyond measure to be satisfying her thirst.

“Stand up, away from the wall” this voice was unmistakably male “turn around”.

Her legs shook from trying to find the balance on the odd heel-less shoes, they had her nearly on tip toe, and made pony noises on the floor. She kept her hands over her eyes, not wanting to see the truth of her surroundings , or the shame of her nakedness. The man spoke again “have you fed her?”

It was the sex-less voice that replied, laughter in its tone “no need- she was sucking the water off of her tits, the filthy pony”.

The girl sensed a chuckle.

2. Master Lucian.

After her shower, the two people had - she presumed - left, she remained standing, balanced on the shoes, eyes covered for a long while, shivering while the water dripped away. Eventually she peeked through her fingers, the light still burning her. The door was still open, a long corridor, brightly lit, led off from her cell. She could make out a stone floor, and the faint sounds of horses walking about. Along the corridor were solid doors, looking more like old fashioned prison doors than stable doors. She focused on her limited view t take her mind off of the tiring angle of her feet. A slight breeze blew down the hall, and tickled her skin. It touched her damp nipples and wound its way up the soft skin of her thighs, she gasped, tingling. For a few blissful moments she faded in to the bliss of the cool air’s caress, forgetting her situation.

Pain! A crop, cracked across her buttocks brought her back to reality with a yelp, she tried to crouch to protect her self. Where had the assailant come from? The room was darkness again- when had that happened? The girl had not heard or sensed anyone approach.

“Stand still pony” the assailant said - it was the man again, she took a little comfort in the familiarity, and, trembling, tried to obey. “Place your arms behind your back” the man’s voice was calm, but firm, it demanded obedience, and received it. The man’s large, warm hand, stroked her exposed buttock for a moment, feeling its strength, and firmness, before grasping a wrist. He placed restraints round her forearms and wrists, pulling her arms tightly together behind her. Moaning with heat, and a little pain, she leaned forward, trying to relieve the strain. With a smile in his voice the man said “good pony”. She felt a chain attach to her wrists, pulling her arms up. With her weight forced forward, she found her weight settled more comfortably on the odd shoes which she endured. The position rang a bell in her mind, but she could not name it. The man touched her here, and there, checking the restraints, he combed out her matted hair, she shifted her weight uncomfortably. The breeze still blew against her flesh, the restraints had increased her heat, and she felt damp trickle down her leg, she blushed and hung her head.

The man’s hands wandered down her chest, pausing to almost weigh her hanging breasts, then slid over her back. They shifted, and were at the boots, she nearly cried with relief as he began unlacing them, almost whispered ‘thank you’, but as gentle as the hands had been, they were now firm, re-lacing the boots even tighter, she sobbed out loud, her thighs near cramping. The man laughed, hearing her despair, he stood, drawing his hands up her wet thighs “how can you cry pony?” He touched her enflamed sex. “You lie with your tears!” He continued touching, his skillful touch experienced from many ponies, she was soon gasping and rocking on his hand.

Ever the Master, Master Lucian judged the new pony to be in the brink of coming, from his belt he with drew the long pony-tail, its real human hair matching the new pony’s own locks, Before she could come he stopped touching and in one swift motion, while the pony was wholly off guard, receptive, ready, he thrust in the butt-plug. The pony cried out in pain and frustration, shaking her buttocks in a wholly erotic and inviting way.

Master Lucian laughed happily again, and with a cheerful slap to the ass, left the new pony’s cell. Indeed she would make a great addition to his stables.

3. Miss Morgan.

The girl, from under lowered eyes watched the Master leave her cell, she felt a sense of loss as the only familiar thing left her world. She cried, for a long while, sobbing quietly, watching the tears join the wet floor below. The Master had left her still trussed up, she silently begged him not to leave her like this too long. Her arms ached beyond aching, and her legs were but jelly. After a long while her tears dried, the pent up emotion spent.

She wriggled trying to ease her cramped joints and felt the pony tail brush against the back of her thighs, tired, her defences low, she enjoyed the moment, and wriggled some more, swaying her hips seductively. The girl realised she was finding her balance on the shoes now, and stamped a foot, it clopped against the concrete, sounding very authentic. She played with her position, occupying her mind with something other than the pain. By arching out her back, thrusting her breasts forward, and poking out her ass she felt very jaunty. She could feel her tail standing proud flicking around.

A voice, a woman’s, purred appreciatively from her cell door “very nice, little filly.” Startled, the girl nearly fell off the shoes in shock. She blushed furiously, and looked down at the floor, shamed. “Now, now, you should be pleased to see me.” The girl doubted that. “I’m here to exercise the filly - schooling time filly.” Her voice was cheerful, and the tone was that of one addressing a small child or animal. The girl wondered what schooling would entail, but it meant movement, a chance to ease her stiffened muscles. The woman came over, wrinkling her nose - the girl guessed she must still smell, despite her ‘shower’. Unknown to the girl, the woman was Miss Morgan, a former Pony, now too old for the rigors of pony life, she had graduated to pony trainer as a way of staying in the only life she’d known, having been a pony since a young girl, lured into the life by an older man just as she was beginning to explore her sexuality, and Miss Morgan had never looked back.

Miss Morgan moved round the girl with a quiet firm manner, one that was ever on guard, but settling to new fillies, her hands patted the girl down, with a touch firm enough to reassure but still gentle. She lowered the girl's arms, and tightened the bindings, drawing her arms even closer together behind her. The girl resisted the tightening, near tears at the continued bondage, but a firm swat on her ass by Miss Morgan persuaded her to cease - she was scared they might not let her out if she misbehaved!

“Now, as you are not yet trained you do not get to wear your full tack, but a gag and bridle are essential.” Miss Morgan spoke as she worked, more to settle the pony than to inform her, and in truth, after so many years of enforced silence she enjoyed the sound of her own voice. Miss Morgan combed the girl's hair back in to a pony tail, nodding at its fullness, a fine mane. “Open your mouth filly”.

Miss Morgan held in her hand a ring gag, the girl shook her head, scared. Miss Morgan laughed, she knew how to train willful little fillies. She held the gag up to the girl;s lips with one hand and gently stroked the girl's sex with the other. Master Lucian had left her unfulfilled and it took only a few moments for the girl to start panting and squirming. Miss Morgan smiled, instructing “open filly.” The girl hoped that if she allowed the gag she would be allowed to come, she opened her mouth wide, straining against the Miss’s hand. In a deft motion Miss Morgan had the ring gag in place, the girl’s reward however was a sharp, stinging smack to the ass. “Little filly,” Miss’s voice firm and threatening “little filly obeys instructions or little filly gets punished!” She held her chin, so the girl had to look her in the eye. “Does filly understand?”

“Yessshh” the girl tried to whisper through the gag, then “owwwww” as Miss Morgan delivered a harder smack to her ass.

“Filly does not speak human” she sighed at the girl's ignorance. “Understand?” Confused the girl nodded.

4. The Paddock.

Miss Morgan had blindfolded the girl, and lead her slowly through the stable block, denying her information about her new home, the schooling area turned out to be a small court yard, high brick walls lined it with a one way glass gallery along one side, the floor was made of the safety rubber that you find in children's playgrounds - the girl guessed that without the use of her arms a fall could be damaging on ordinary concrete. Along one side were a series of expensive looking treadmills, and a few miscellaneous other exercise machines. A sort of running track led round the area, and in the centre was a kind of ‘horse walker’.

There were no other girls in the school when the girl was led out, she was glad of it. Her nakedness was both thrilling and humiliating, she wore only the boots, arm cuffs and her gag-bridle. Miss Morgan saw her looking round, and gave her a moment to take it all in. “You will be spending much of your time here for now, until you are fit to join the others”.

The girl wondered what she meant, but had no time to dwell on her words. Miss Morgan was already attaching her gag bridle to the ‘walker’.

“Now, you’ve been cooped up for several days now, so today we will focus on your walk. Loosen you up!” The walker activated, pulling at her gag-bridle. Hastily the girl started forward, realising that if she stopped or stumbled she would be dragged. At first Miss Morgan allowed her to just get the feel of the walker, as with all young fillies, training must start gently.

The girl walked out contentedly at first, her body glad of the movement, though she was still wobbly on the boots. The Miss just watched, waiting for her to settle down, to find a natural rhythm. After about an hour she called “woah” the girl came to an unsteady halt. “Its lunch time filly.” The girl tried to smile, thoughts of food made her suddenly very hungry. But Miss Morgan laughed, “not for you filly”.

Miss Morgan produced a small egg shaped vibrator from her pocket, and tapped the girl's ass with her short stick. The girl recognized the egg as a vibrator and shoved out her ass, obediently, her sex still tingling from the Miss’s deft touch. “Good filly” she cooed, stroking her ass cheeks, and the egg slipped in frictionless. Miss Morgan raised an amused eyebrow at how wet her filly was, this one would make a good pony, no doubt. She kept her thoughts to herself, and was all business as she spoke to the filly again. “This is remote controlled. It delivers punishments and rewards. Run well little filly, the better you run, the greater the reward. Idleness will be punished.” With these simple instructions Miss Morgan left, her mind already on her lunch.

The girl stood and pondered the Miss’s words for a moment, the walking was not taxing, but her mouth was already dry, she wondered how long she was to be left here. The sun was directly above the school, and shone down. Alone in the school she lingered, enjoying the fresh air, and the tiny amount of freedom it offered.

Without warning a painful jolt from the egg made her yelp, instinctively she started forward, the egg responded with a gentle vibration, the girl sighed happily and picked up the pace, wriggling her ass to try and gain further stimulation from it, her unsated heat demanding her obedience to the egg. Mind focussed on her heat she forgot about the wobbly boots and strode out quickly. The egg continued its gentle hum for a good fifteen minutes. Then a jolt. With the pain she felt more heat and groaned, breaking into a jog, hoping for more reward. She was not disappointed, the vibrations picked up intensity. She shuddered happily, and trotted out as fast as she was able, the heat growing inside her. She wished her hands were free, to touch her aching breasts. The fire within her was growing, she moaned out loud, breaking in to a run, the vibrator hummed deep within her, spurring her on….