"Time to wake up," Katherine informed Jennifer.

"What time is it?" she asked, searching for the clock on the far wall. "7:30?" she asked herself. "Let me sleep for another ten minutes."

"No can do. Up you go," Kat replied as she pulled the sheets from the naked girl.

"OK, OK, I'm up!"

"Good. Get into the bathroom and I'll clean you out. Then you can shower again."

Jennifer looked at Kat for a second then realized there was no arguing with her. Her trainer had a job to do and it would get done one way or another. She knew this instantly as if a psychic link had been established. She simply turned and walked.

Linda had been subjected to a similar treatment, although she had resisted the need for an enema. In the manner of the quality trainer that Elaine was, she was firm with her charge but not abusive. When Linda asked "Why," Elaine simply put her finger to her lips and then pointed toward the bathroom. Linda obeyed instantly, knowing instinctively that bad things would happen should she disobey.

The girls' outfits were lying on their beds when they emerged from the showers. The outfits were actual body suits made of thick latex. They were colored dark red. The outfits were short sleeved but shoulder length black gloves were included to cover the arms. These gloves were made of leather and sported a locking zipper that traveled from mid-forearm to shoulder.

The outfits also sported a pair of openings for the breasts. Oversized gold shields were mounted to the small frames using tiny screws that were nearly invisible when seated. The edges of the plates were tucked under a seam that ringed each breast approximately half way from the base to the nipple. The outfit couldn't be removed without removing the domes first since the bolted domes were larger than the openings in the outfits. Small gold bells were inserted into the holes and closed with pliers. Their trainers smiled as the girls stared down at the noisy little torments.

The black leather boots were hip length with six inch heels. The soles sported two inch thick platforms. The boots were black and contrasted nicely with the rest of the suit. These boots were called "Walking Boots" and would be worn at all times where formal marching was not required. Each boot laced to the top. The outer edge came to a pointed flap where a decorative elastic black strap held the material against the hip.

Each boot was laced from the toe to the hip in a standard pattern. Jennifer watched with fascination as her trainer began working on the eight foot long laces. Katherine helped her stand and guided her to the mirror so she could admire the look.

"Kinky," Jennifer commented. "Love the boots!"

"Wait till we get you into the real ones with the eight inch heels! I guess that's why we call it Boot Camp!"

"You're a regular comedian," Jennifer teased.

The two girls met each other in the hallway and stared at each other's outfit. After being prodded by their trainers they carefully walked on their skyscraper heels to the far end where the cafeteria was located. Here fourteen other girls were milling around, waiting in line for food, or sitting at the long tables. Every girl was dressed identically.

Along one wall was an assortment of fruits, cereals, and other light breakfast fare. There were female attendants behind the counter refilling the heated trays and tending to the girls. The selection was excellent.

"You can eat as you please," Elaine informed them. "Just don't overdo it. It's all good. It will be your standard breakfast till you leave. The food you have available can't be over consumed. That's because we'll make sure you get enough exercise to burn off whatever you decide to eat. So, enjoy yourself and make some friends," she said. "Oh, you need to be back in your room by the top of the hour," she added as she quickly left.

Jennifer and Linda relied on each other for support as they stepped into line to fill their trays. Every girl in the room seemed to be doing the same.

Every girl was dressed exactly alike. All girls wore black gloves over red outfits. The uniform of each girl was identical in every way including the large gold breast plates and the small bells. The room seemed to be filled with constant ringing sounds as thirty-two bells sung out with the smallest movements of their owners.

After gathering some eggs, melon, and breakfast quiche the girls sat down at a long table in the center of the room. "You new here?" Jennifer asked the girl across from her.

"Yea. Looks like everyone here is new. My name's Vicky, Vicky Lundstrom," she replied. Vicky was six feet three inches tall. She had long blonde hair which was pulled into a ponytail just like Jennifer's.

"I'm Jen. This is Linda," she said. "Are you here for the pony stuff?" she asked.

"And everything else too," she replied. "I'm sort of nervous about that but I want the money."

"Same here."

"You ever do any of this leather stuff before?" Linda asked.

"No. From what I've heard nobody has. I think they wanted people who would be uncomfortable with this. I asked my trainer and she said they don't do these things for sexual pleasure as much as they do it for the pleasure of subjugation. It's a power thing."

"What about the sex?" Jennifer asked.

"I asked my trainer the same thing. She said they get off more on the power of making someone do something they normally wouldn't do in real life. We're being bribed to be raped! We knew it when we signed the contract. Isn't that a sick fact?"

"Where you from," Linda asked.

"Phoenix. How about you?"

"Midland, both of us," Linda replied. "Jen worked for me. The owner of the bar in town liked our bodies and asked us to do this. He showed us a huge pile of gold bricks. We couldn't say no."

"Was his name Gerry?"

"That's him. He must use those bars for collecting his stock. It wouldn't surprise me if he had several of them."

"I'm sure of it. Hey, it's getting late. We have to be back in our rooms in fifteen minutes. We'd better finish up."

"Ladies, welcome to the first annual convention of Mrs. Peal look-alikes," Gerry quipped as he stood in front of the sixteen women. The girls giggled at the referral to the Diana Riggs' character of the sixties.

"My name is Geraldo Smart. I want to welcome you to Orientation Facility Gamma. For those of you who have not been informed, this facility is located roughly thirty miles south of Guadalajara, Mexico. We are one hundred miles due west of Mexico City. We're within a two hour drive of Acapulco.

"I'm going to cover a few things then I'm going to turn the floor over to Tina. She'll explain the more sundry details of what's expected. Since she's been through this from the start she's well aware of your anxiety, your moral conflicts, and your physical discomfort. She knows every aspect of what you're going through.

"Orientation Facility Gamma, or Boot-camp Gamma as we call it, is the third of three such facilities in the North American chain of training facilities. The others happen to be in San Francisco and Richmond, Virginia. All three funnel their trained ponies to a large central facility located off the west coast of Chile. That facility is where you all will head next for your pre-delivery training.

"Now, as for why we put you in these strange red outfits? The reason is that we use color to indicate rank. The color you are wearing is referred to 'Rookie Red'. Getting past your rookie training is referred to as 'Getting past your Reds." The importance of the red outfit to you is this. You get no credit for time served while in red. All this time is considered training. You will probably not lose your reds until you graduate from this facility six weeks from now.

The colors of the outfits are earned by combined goals in both sexual activity and miles trotted. Promotions require goals in both miles traveled and oral sex acts. To advance to black you must have to your credit one hundred miles of trotting and one hundred blow jobs. Remember, until you've made that mark, your days don't count.

Ponies wear epaulettes on their shoulders also to designate their progress. I'll use Tina as an example. Her shoulders show two gold stars and one silver star on each board. They represent five thousand blow jobs; that's one thousand for each gold star and five hundred for each silver one. Stripes represent miles traveled in similar fashion. The gold stripes on her epaulette represent a thousand miles; the silver represent five hundred miles. She has six gold and two silver. She was a pony for fifteen years. She still gets into harness every now and then.

"So to recap; the gloves are colored based on miles trotted. The shoulder boards are used to display a running total of your progress. Finally your suits represent the milestones you've passed.

"You will all be sorted according to how we, the heads of this facility, feel you would best serve the community of owners. Some of you will be best used in a team. Others will be better suited for single performances. Some of you are natural saddle ponies while others are too small to carry the weight of a human on your back. Some of you will become familiar with the sulky; others will pull a larger wagon or coach.

"I'd like to say something about anxiety and fear. This is important so pay close attention. We have no desire to harm you but we expect you to be afraid. We expect anxiety. Listen very closely to what I'm about to tell you regarding the subject of fear though. Fear is good. I'll repeat that. Fear is good. Why? Fear satisfies the customer. As long as you're not crippled by your fear, a little anxiety or uneasiness makes for a good performance. Too much fear, the fear of permanent injury for instance, can cause the event to grind to a halt. That doesn't satisfy anyone. So to paraphrase a famous saying, 'Be afraid. Be just a little afraid.'"

As Gerry was giving his presentation he was watching the girls. Tina was too. They all looked fantastic in their kinky outfits. They were all shuffling in their seats as they tried to get comfortable inside the latex. Gerry knew they were itching and sweating. It was something that would pass with time.

"OK, let's talk about the reason you're all here, money! You all want to get rich as quickly as possible. You consider the sacrifice to be worth the reward. That's understandable. But I want you to do something for me. Forget about the money. The money is taken care of. It's guaranteed. You will have enough things to concern yourself with. You will have duty.

"I talk in terms of duty because it's a higher calling than the term job. None of you are getting paid to do a job. You're not prostitutes! You're pony girls. You'll garner respect. You are not sluts, whores, or gutter trash. Hell, you may even strike up a chord with the person who owns you. That could lead to a very expensive wedding if you catch my drift.

"Well, I've said enough for now. I'm going to pass the floor to Tina. She'll go over some of the more tedious details. Tina?"

"Thank you Gerry. I'd also like to welcome you to our little facility. I'm not going to take very long but I wanted to go over some important items that you'll need to keep in the back of your head.

"First, you will all be closely monitored while in training. This floor's complex has two doors. The one down the hall to the right as you exit this room leads outdoors. The one to the left as you exit leads to such facilities such as our pool, the examining room, and other such places. The facility you'll be heading to shortly after this meeting is called the arena. Here you will all learn to march properly.

"Now we'll talk about some rules. First, you may not leave your room without putting on the outfit you wear now. You must wear the body suit, gloves and boots. Get used to heels as they are a standard item in the pony-girl wardrobe. When you march you'll wear even higher heels that have the soles acoustically enhanced to sound like a horse hoof. Your trainers may already have shown them to you.

"We do not allow our girls to march outside during the heat of the day. The noon temperature here often rises to the century mark. Instead we use our arena. It's air conditioned so you shouldn't have any problems.

"In the evening we march outdoors. The heavy outfits you wear work well in the cold air of the desert. It's a really fun experience. We put streetlights all over the place. The carriages have cute little lamps on the sides too. You'll all love it.

"Finally I'll mention the sexual aspect of your training. You will all be expected to open wide and take any man who asks. We are going to desensitize you by making you do these acts as often as possible. We try and get five sessions each day. That's difficult because we don't want it to fall too close to meal times.

"For those that are squeamish about this, we do understand. We have a lot of experience with girls who have never had the opportunity to partake in a man's offering. You must become comfortable with the act though. It's your duty. In that regard if you know you're going to have a problem, don't refuse. Tell your trainer and she will arrange to have you bound for the act. Yes, I know it's a forced sex act but it has to be done. If you do refuse, you'll have to endure physical punishment in addition to the rape. Trust me; I don't enjoy authorizing those sessions.

"Next topic, addressing your superiors: We don't use idiotic titles like Master, Mistress, Sir, Madame or anything else. Instead we insist you use our first name. We all have badges so you can address us properly. Be formal when answering however. You would say, 'Yes, Tina. No, Tina.' Please do not use the titles I mentioned earlier. To us they are insulting.

"Finally I'm going to talk about some rules of the International Pony-girl Consortium that we are a member of. The consortium is comprised of several hundred millionaires and billionaires that run ranches around the world dedicated to the collection and enjoyment of pony-girls. The IPC has been in existence since 1983 when three doctors from San Francisco got together with some business types from Singapore at a Las Vegas bondage convention. Having discovered that they had a common interest in pony-girl bondage they came up with a plan to produce pony-girls on a vast scale. Within one year the operation was up and running. That facility, the current site of Boot-Camp Alpha, was an all inclusive training facility.

"The group had to come up with rules to protect the girls. The risk of abuse was great, especially in countries that had little or no respect for human rights such as the Asian, Indian, and Arab markets. Thus they came up with the Pony-Slaver Compact. In order to trade, train, and compete in the pony-girl competitions held every three months the facilities to be built would have to abide by the Compact. Thus the wheels were set in motion. Within a year twenty farms were established. Now the facilities are specialized. The Consortium set up layers of training facilities to avoid duplication of effort. In addition the training is uniform and structured so every pony gets the same chance to advance. As it stands there are now over 200 pony farms that house as many as fifty slaves each. The total stock at this time exceeds 8,000 girls. There are three training systems in place; one as I've described in North America, one spread across Europe, and one in southeast Asia. Another system is planned for the African continent and an additional smaller system is being discussed for Australia. So as you see we're worldwide.

"Now, let me talk about some of the rules and how they affect you. First, let's talk about basic bondage philosophy as defined by the Consortium. In the simplest terms, Bondage is Art. You'll actually see plaques placed throughout our complex with this phrase to remind us of this fact. As such, you need not worry that we'll disfigure you, scar you, or do anything that makes you look anything less than beautiful. We consider each of you to be a canvas waiting for the artist's hand. Your trainers earn their prestige through making you look as beautiful and enticing as possible.

"Along with that note come the rules concerning hair. Under consortium rules hair will never be shortened while the pony is in service. Long hair is a huge asset to your worth. As an example, a girl with hair that's in excess of two feet long will go for twice the market value of a girl with shoulder length hair. Along those lines, if you leave then come back, you cannot come back with hair any shorter than you left with. If you do cut it and wish to return to get more money, you'll have to wait till your hair returns to its size when you were released."

Just then a girl raised her hand. It was one of the smaller girls in the middle. Tina pointed to her asking, "Your name please?"

"Charlene Brown. Everyone calls me Charlie."

"What is your question, Charlie?"

"You said you kept coming back for many years. How many times can you return? Do we get a million every time we come back?"

Gerry stepped in at that point. "The current age limit is 30 years of age. Any girl who reaches her thirtieth birthday will serve out the year but not be allowed to reenlist. As for pay, the answer is yes. You get a million each year.

"You also get a share of the profits if you're sold. That kicks in when you reach Black Pony status. Black pays 5% commission. Silver pays 10% commission and Gold pays 25%. Prime ponies almost always go for a million dollars or more. So my advice is to make yourself irresistible!"

"Tina, are you finished?" Tina indicated she was. The meeting had lasted twenty minutes and the girls were showing the signs of fatigue. "OK, go back with your trainers and grab a light bite. We're on the opening day schedule so lunch will only be thirty minutes. You'll be getting your first blow job lessons afterwards then you'll be marching. So don't eat anything heavy. Keep that in mind. Dismissed!"

Linda:

I know everyone was in the same boat but that didn't comfort me much. Jennifer seemed to be taking it well though, I thought. The other girls seemed stunned. They talked about oral sex like it was an act no more difficult to perform than combing one's hair. And eight inch heels? I was barely able to manage with these skyscrapers! How was I going to deal with three inch platforms?

I was ranting inside my own mind and I had to calm down. My trainer took me by the arm and told me to relax. It wasn't going to be that bad. I wasn't so sure.

We went into the cafeteria and I picked up a bowl of mixed melon pieces. My trainer waited outside the room, telling me she wanted me back in no more than thirty minutes. I nodded and said, "Yes, Elaine."

I met Jennifer and we sat beside each other again. Vicky spotted us and sat across from the table. "How are you holding up," I asked.

"I'm OK. I'm just a little scared of all this. I know they told us what was going to happen but hearing about it and doing it are two different things. They really don't make a big deal out of oral sex. My trainer says it's something I'll get used to. I don't know. I've never done it. I never wanted to."

"I feel the same way," Jennifer agreed.

"Me neither. I'm not looking forward to it."

"Let's change the subject," Jennifer interrupted. "What about these outfits? Aren't they the kinkiest things you've ever seen?"

"You said it!" Vicky agreed. "These heels are awesome. I've never worn anything so high. I can't imagine what it's going to be like when they put the eight inch boots on us."

"I'd imagine that you two will have more problems than I will. You're both taller. Not that it's going to be a piece of cake for me either," I commented.

Vicky looked up at the clock behind me. "Let's get done eating. We have to get back. I don't want to piss off anyone. I can just imagine what they'd do to us for being late."

We finished our fruit and drank water to wash it down and clean our mouths. "Good luck," I said to my two friends. I knew I'd need luck no less than they would.