This report will provide a picture of what it is like for us ponygirls 24 hours a day, for most of what has been written about us focuses just on the more exciting experiences we undergo. There's much more to being a ponygirl than glamorous races and fancy parades, you must realize. Most of the time, we are forced to engage in much less exhilarating activities. The ranch has to be kept up, and this involves many different kinds of work. Not all of them are easy, and if any are, you can be sure that the girls' restraints will be such that even an undemanding chore will be made more difficult.

In terms of personnel, the Ranch usually has about 30 ponygirls, ten or twelve grooms (both male and female), and ten male trainers, along with such specialized employees as a physician and some engineers who see to the Ranch's mechanical stuff.

Madam Bork maintains a network of people with tastes like hers who are in contact with young women, mainly on college campuses, and who can identify those who likely candidates for ponygirl service. When they are found, their photos and records are sent here, and Madam Bork selects those whom she would like to have in her stables. Those chosen are of course interviewed and tested, and the "winners" are invited to join the Ranch on a permanent basis. Oh, we get a few girls from other Masters and Mistresses, but for the most part Madam Bork prefers to start with what she calls "fresh meat." So we receive three or four girls a year through this process, and manage to sell an equivalent number to private owners elsewhere. Once in a while, a ponygirl will "retire" to some specialized work such a cooking and making new restraints.

As a willing veteran of several years here at Mistress Bork's Ranch, I have come to think of the jobs I have been assigned to as falling into several categories. For instance, there are those that involved moving things. Manure has to be hauled to the exercise yard to keep the grass healthy, foodstuffs have to be unloaded and stored properly, and the water-wheel must be kept moving so that the tanks above the stables will be kept full. Some girls have to pull the roller that keeps the exercise yard smooth, and others have to keep the fans circulating so the stables will always have fresh air.

Then, there are those chores that focus on cleaning up. The yards must be constantly policed, stalls must be swept out and restocked with fresh straw, and the toilet facilities have to be emptied and cleaned. Feedbags and other aspects of the girls' diets must be taken care of as well.

Hygiene and beautification form another area of work. For any special occasion, the girls who can do it are required to fix the hair and makeup of those who will take part in the festivities. And the girls' health is a serious concern as well. Madam Bork paid the entire med-school expenses of a wiry Lesbian named Dr. Del Thorkin so that she will work fulltime as a plastic surgeon here at the Ranch. Dr. Thorkin, sadistic, wiry, and thin-lipped, is adept at treating the occasional scrapes, bruises, broken bones, and other ailments that beset ponygirls as well as all other people. Her chief skill, however, is in piercing, boring, liposuction, and other methods of reshaping the human body. Nearly all the girls here now were fitted upon their arrival with heavy silver D-rings fastened through holes bored just below and well behind their aureoles, and most of them can thank her as well for their nose-rings and tongue-studs.

Dr. Thorkin's ability to enhance a girl's breasts to truly spectacular dimensions is remarkable, relying somewhat on the scar tissue that results from the infibulation of breast-rings but also for other techniques that firm up and also as increase the erotic sensitivity of the patient's frontal equipment. I know she has had offers from many other Ranches, but has chosen to stay with Madam Bork for obvious reasons.

Record-keeping is another important job. There is a file on each ponygirl and it must be kept up to date in terms of arrival, age, weight, competition results, health, special equipment needs, disciplinary actions, and so on. These are kept in the ranch office, and a number of girls who can type or file are assigned there each day. One might think that office work is relatively easy, but none of us really like it. For one thing, we are always directly under the eye of The Jav, and for another, we are put into such restraints that even the simplest jobs become demandingly difficult and often painful as well.

The weekends are special. If Madam Bork is not giving a two-day party for other ranchers in the area, some of us are taken to whichever ranch is holding the affair that particular weekend. Races are the chief reason for these events, but when Madam Bork is the hostess, we must not only race but also provide entertainment, decoration, and services. Those who are not racing will be assigned duties as waitresses or as living decorations (in the most bizarre bondage The Jav and her staff can devise), or forced to perform stunts and other humiliating activities for the amusement of the guests. And if a guest wants the company of one of us for the night, Madam Bork is always willing to grant that request.

Then there are always the exercises we must engage in to keep each of us in top physical shape. Several hours of each day are devoted to calisthenics, training in running and steeplechase, and whatever else the trainers think we should undergo. Since the trainers have freedom to determine what we must do during these periods, they have also devised for us such odd exercises as hopping races, crawling races, and even a game called, naturally, "fetch." How many times have I had to run as fast as I can in a ten-inch hobble so get a stick that my trainer has thrown far down the exercise field? I have to kneel, bend down, and take the damned thing between my teeth because my arms are strapped up behind me in a forearm-X, and then race back to the trainer. Being treated like a real bitch is always a source of shame, even though I find it strangely satisfying as well.

The whole idea of course is to keep us busy, always aware of our servitude, and prepared for whatever Mistress Bork may demand of us. The fact that it is The Jav who schedules each girl's activities, and often takes personal charge of disciplinary measures, merely makes life more difficult for us. But since every girl here is in fact a volunteer, a devotee of bondage and discipline who loves physical restraint and harsh servitude, complaints are rare and mild when they are expressed.

Perhaps a detailed description of several typical scenes will make life at the Ranch clearer to the reader. . .

The trainers and grooms are free to dispose of cigarette and cigar butts, trash, gum wads, wrappers, and whatever else they want to be rid of around the stables and yards, for they know that ponygirls on police duty will pick up their waste as soon as possible. Stray dead leaves, plastic bags blown in by the wind, and tufts of grass brought in on the wheels of wagons and sulkies are also in need of policing. This is not an easy chore, for The Jav has worked out an arrangement that we girls despise, even though it guarantees that the job will be done.

Here are Tinki and Quill, two ponygirls who learned to their dismay at lineup this morning that they will be assigned to policing today. Tinki, blonde and shapely, will be the "crawler," or one who actually picks up whatever must be disposed of. Quill, on the tall side with dark red hair and a truly magnificent pair of boobs, will serve as her guide. Two trainers take them to the equipment room for their special restraints.

Tinki is first fitted with thigh-sheaths that will hold her legs sharply doubled. Fortunately, the knees are well padded so she will not suffer from pebbles and other sharp things on the ground. A corselet comes next, laced snugly but not too tightly, and its crotch-strap is drawn tight between her legs more as a reminder of her erotic potential than for continual punishment. Each hand is then fitted into a padded mitt so that her fingers will be useless, and a two-foot hamperbar is locked between her wrist cuffs. Finally, there is her helmet, a close-fitting item of glossy black leather that encloses her head entirely except for the generous opening at her mouth. She will thus be totally blinded, and the helmet's ear-plugs will keep her in a world of complete silence. The trainers help her to the hands-and-knees position in which she will remain all day.

Quill's outfit is not so restrictive, but it allows her only a slight bit of freedom. High-heeled boots are drawn up to just below her buns and laced to severe constriction. She is allowed only six inches of chain between her ankle cuffs. Then her hands are secured inside padded mitts like those Tinki is wearing, and twelve inches of chain are locked between each wrist and the breast-ring nearest it. After this, she is gagged with a monstrous leather gadget that clamps her tongue, covers her lips, plugs her ears, and the head-straps that hold it in place are tightened so that she must bite down on the device at all times. Finally, a low, two-wheeled "collection cart" is fixed in front of by two long iron rods attached at the sides of her corselet. She will thus have to push it ahead of her, ready to receive whatever Tinki has picked up with her mouth.

To complete the job, the two girls are connected by reins that run forward from Tinki's breast-rings, up through rings sat at each side of her collar, and then are locked to Quill's wrists. Only by a special series of jerks at the reins will Quill be able to guide Tinki to her target, for Quill cannot speak and Tinki cannot hear even her muffled nasal grunts. The fact that her mouth is free means nothing, for Quill cannot hear her at all.

To tell Tinki where to go and what to do, Quill must jerk at the reins by moving her own hands. Two simultaneous jerks at both reins mean "go forward," a jerk on the right or left rein tells the crawler which way to move, and three jerks on both mean that there is something in front of the crawler to be picked up. A series of right-left, right-left jerks tells Tinki to back up. She does her best to obey these commands, even though her movements may require much adjustment before she can do her job. There is no way for her to know what it is she must pick up with her lips or teeth, but when she feels the three jerks she must lean down until her mouth finds the object.

What can she do with what she has picked up? Quill must maneuver the cart until it is directly under Tinki's mouth. Tinki can feel its presence and drops her finding into the cart. She thus locates the cart with her chin, and deposits her trash in it. Cigarette butts are the most common things to be collected in this manner, and there are used Kleenexes, empty match-covers, and an occasional bit of plastic packing, but the crawler must always be prepared for larger or more disgusting objects. A cigar butt is one thing she hates, as are dusty wads of previously used gum. Dead leaves are a nuisance but not bothersome, and once in a while there will be a tuft of grass or ball of mud that has come in on the wheels of a manure cart. Pigeon feathers are especially difficult to pick up. Tinkin can often tell what it is to be picked up by its smell, but all too often she is surprised (and disgusted) at what she must deal with.

The team makes its way along one side of the spacious yard, covering a swath perhaps ten feet wide, and then makes a U-turn at the end in order to cover the next swath. Tinki and Quill must empty their collection cart now and then, dumping it into a larger basket in the middle of the yard, before they continue. It is past noon by the time the have covered the main area. The grooms give them twenty minutes for an unappetizing lunch of liquid gruel, squirted in at the corner of each one's gag, and then they are led to work the front yard of Madam Bork's mansion. Only after they have covered this entire area are they relieved of their day's work.

During the day, the girls are always vulnerable to corrective "encouragement" by anyone with a lash or quirt, and so the guide must be constantly alert for whatever is foreign to the area. A missed cigarette butt, for instance, can lead to several stinging swats across Quill's bare buns, and a candy-wrapper that fails to fall into the collection cart can earn the Tinki similar punishment. After ten hours of cruising the stable yards and the lawn in front of Madam Bork's mansion, both girls are exhausted and Tinki is begging for water to wash out her mouth.

After the girls have been released from their grotesque restraints, they are allowed an hour's rest in their stalls, still in heavy bondage but without their helmets. And after "dinner" eaten dog-style at six o'clock, an hour of strenuous exercise makes them more than ready to be put into evening bondage in their cells for the rest of the night.