m walked across the crowded street to the two-pony carriage stopped before the government building. Attitude, that was the kay; people thought that you needed all sorts of specialized skills and tools to be a thief, but all you really needed was attitude.

Appearance was also important; m wore a black silk dress, fantastically bedizened with patterns and glitter and slit up to the hip; her long red hair was perfectly coiffed and braided atop her head, in short, she looked like a person who would own a carriage like this.

She strode up to the two ponygirls as if she owned them: they stood still, a perfectly matched pair, they might even have been sister: they were the same height, not tall, though they towered over m in their hoofboots; they were both tan, raven-haired, with soft heart-shaped faces and full round breasts thrust forward proudly. They wore panelgags holding in mouthguards(an important safety measure, as well as preventing ponygirls from talking back or protesting; an important feature to the more autocratic sort of lady) hoofboots, black armbinders that drew their lbows together, forcing their shoulders back and their chests out, and black leather harnesses attaching them to the carriage.

They stared at her curiously as she approached, until she flashed an angry, imperious glance at them; the ponygirls immediately turned their eyes straight ahead, not looking directly at her, as was proper between a ponygirl and a grand lady.

Proper; that was also important.

m inspected the two ponygirls like they were hers, tugging at their leather straps, feeling their full breasts and pinching their nipple -erect in the cold air- making them moan softly. m slid a hand down to the right-hand ponygirl’s crotch, rubbing her slit through the lacy thong; she shivered, moaning softly through her panelgag. m turned to the other and gently ran her hand down the pnygirl’s side to her hip, then slid the hand down into her crotch; she too moaned,shivers running across her lean body. Evidently, these ponygirls worked for a mistress who believed that ponygirls should be kept chaste; it made them more energetic, ran the common belief.

“Good ponies,” m said, again, as if they were hers. She strode to the carriage and, without even glancing around, pulled herself up into the driver’s box. If this were a move, she thought to herself, we’d drive away at a full gallop. Instead, she looked, signaled, then started the ponygirls on a walk and pulled out into traffic. She shifted into a trot as they went.

Of course, it was something of a risk to take a carriage right in front of the guards in front of the government building, but not much: those women were simply on guard, which meant they were bored and not really paying attention. Still, as soon as she was in traffic, m shifted into an easy canter that would take her quickly out of sight.

Not quickly enough: a shout was raised behind he. m snapped the reins, and the ponygirls, obedient to their training, leaned forward in their harness, pulling at the straps joining their armbinders to the carriage, and lunged forward into a gallop.

m raced through the press, bowling aside pedestrians and other drivers and ponygirls: the ponygirls in the traces just ran straight, as fast as they could, trusting their driver to guide them.

m turned the corner into a broader thoroughfare and downshifted to a canter, then turned into a smaller street,leaving all noise of pursuit far behind. After a few more turns she glanced back and saw no-one after her, so turned toward home.

The concealed gate opened at her approach, and m rolled into a concealed coaching yard; women came to take the ponygirls from their harnesses as if they’d always lived there.

That was the trick: make the whole affair as natural, as normal as possible, but better, praise them, treat them kindly, and these ponygirls would be as loyal to their new mistress as to their old. And if they resisted the change, well, a little reconditioning and retraining could work wonders. In any case, after some work, they and the carriage would look little like themselves, and some rich lady would have a fine pair of ponygirls.

m clambered down and walked around to the ponygirls who stood, sweat beading their skin and blowing, their breasts rising and falling with every labored breath. “Good ponies,” she said, again gently rubbing their pusies. “Good ponies get treats, don’t they?”

An eager light sprang into their eyes, and they trotted eagerly after the grooms who led them away.

m wiped her hands together, satisfied with a job well done.

All you need is attitude.