Erin, a tall athletic redhead, was about to leave the bar when one of her dorm-mates grabbed her arm and hauled her away from the door. "Hey!" she yelled, surprised at the rough treatment from Steffi, an older girl with a shapely figure, brunette hair, and a limp from a childhood injury. She came from the same hometown as the freshman, and they had become fast friends on the first day of classes.

Steffi, a grave look on her face, motioned the younger girl toward the ladies' room. A puzzled Erin complied as she was taken into the bathroom and pushed into the last stall. Steffi closed the door behind them, and for a moment Erin thought that the other girl was going to make out with her.

"Listen, I'm not--"

"Ssh, sh, quiet," said Steffi, clamping a hand over the bigger girl's mouth. Her voice was a desperate whisper in her ear that could barely be heard over the music of the college bar. "Listen to what I have to say, okay? I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but I like you, and I know that you are going to be one of their prime targets."

Targets? What was she talking about? Erin was beginning to get scared, but she calmed down, awaiting her friend's next words.

"You've heard of panty raids, right? From the sixties?" The tall girl nodded; she had seen something about it in a documentary on TV once, and it had all seemed so childish. Yeah? So what? "Well, now there's something different-- they call them pony raids."

Erin shook the other girl's hand away from her mouth. "But--"

She was cut off again. "Just listen! You know what pony girls are, right? Bondage? S and M?"

Pictures and videos she had stumbled across on the internet, an Anne Rice novel she had read once, an old Tawny Kitaen movie on late-night cable TV. The redhead nodded slowly, her mind starting to make connections.

"Well, each year, at the beginning of the semester, guys from the agricultural college stage raids where they lasso freshmen girls coming out of the non-alcoholic bars, then force them to become pony girls. Once they've got you, that's it-- you're a pony girl until you're old and broken. If you can reach one of the dorms, though, you're free. That's the rules. I'm telling you this because I like you, and because you are an athlete and a redhead, two qualities which are very desirable. Chances are they'll strike tonight. Stick with--"

The restroom door opened. Steffi shifted her hand and pressed her mouth over Erin's as someone rattled their stall door, then peered through the gap between the door and the divider.

"Jeez, doesn't anybody use the stalls to PEE anymore?"

A toilet flushed, and the girl went to another stall. The brunette removed her mouth. "Stick with me and I'll see you don't get captured," she whispered hastily.

She left, and Erin stood there, so weak she could barely stand. Could what she be saying true? If so, how and why had the authorities kept it a secret for so long? Shit, why hadn't she stayed in at night like her parents had warned her to?

The freshman glanced at her watch. Almost closing time. She stepped back out into the bar, and was suddenly struck by the number of hot young women who were crowded into the night spot. Hot young *unsuspecting* women. Her gut went cold at the thought of any of these free-spirited girls being kidnapped and forced into a lifetime of brutal slavery and servitude.

A wild thought flashed into her mind: Should she warn them? But how would she do it, and who would believe her? Hell, she wouldn't have believed Steffi if the older girl hadn't been such a good friend.

The last song ended, bringing a hush over the crowd. Closing time. Here was her chance! She could at least do *something!*

Steffi appeared and grabbed her arm again, sensing the plan forming in her head. "No, don't do it. There's nothing you can do except try to save yourself. Follow me."

They stuck close together as the crowd of women spilled out into the street. Mandie looked around anxiously.

"The hill," said Steffi. The redhead knew instantly. The side of the campus facing the town was a long, grassy slope with a thick growth of trees on either side. It was there that they would strike. "Stay in the middle."

As the other bars emptied out, the crowd grew into a loose parade of two or three hundred. Erin clutched the other girl's hand, and the two remained silent as others chatted innocently around them. When would it begin? When would it begin?

The two were a third of the way up the half-mile-long hill and the front of the crowd was just topping the rise when the sound of dirt bikes split the air. The redhead felt her knees weaken. Oh, my God, she thought, it's true!

Most of the girls stopped, curious. Dirt bikes burst from the trees on either side at the top and bottom of the hill, trapping nearly everyone. It was only when lassoes began snagging girls and yanking them to the ground that the brutal reality of the situation sunk in. Screams filled the air as the crowd of women stampeded up the hill, hoping to reach their dorms. It was like a scene out of a monster movie.

Erin ran, pulling the limping girl behind her, horrified to see dozens of lassoes drop down into the crowd ahead of her and drag girls to their doom. In their panic, girls pushed and shoved, knocking others to the ground. There was nowhere to run-- dirt bikes were everywhere, circling them like Indians around a wagon train.

The two were falling back, and the lassoes were dropping closer, pulling screaming girls to the ground within yards of them.

Gasping, Steffi said, "Go on! Go on without me! Save yourself!"

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"GO! They won't take me! I'm an upperclassman and I'm lame! RUN!"

Erin felt her friend's hand slip away, and she was off like a shot, sprinting up the hill. Only a hundred more feet. If she could just--

There was a blur in front of her eyes, and then she was flat on her back, skidding down the hill with her legs in the air, kicking wildly as screaming girls fled away from her, the wind from their fleeing legs rushing past her face. The drag from the hard ground tore her flimsy short skirt from her hips and snapped the spaghetti straps of her tank top, exposing her emerald green and black lace push-up bra, not to mention her matching thong and garter belt and black lace-top stockings.

Thinking quickly, she brought her knees up to her chest and rolled over, attempting to struggle to her feet. It was a good thing she hadn't worn heels like many of the girls. Spasms gripped her, and she lay on the ground twitching and jerking instead. She had no way of knowing that a wire was wound through the lasso, with the insulation stripped away at the loop, so that a captured girl could be shocked into submission.

A dirt bike skidded to a halt inches from her face. "Yes!" said a male voice as her captor dropped to the ground next to her. Erin was helpless as she felt a leather hood being tugged over her face. Bit by bit, he laced the back tight, imprisoning her head, and all she could do was give a faint muffled protest beneath the supple form-fitting leather that gripped her mouth. The collar strap was secured and then he was done.

The man ripped her skirt off the rest of the way and tossed it aside. Erin peered out of one eye, saw him turn to reach into a pack and pull out a harness. She could feel control returning to her body. She flexed her muscles. It was now or never. As he turned back to her, she kicked out, connecting solidly with his crotch.

The man screamed. As he fell back, Erin jumped to her feet and tore the lasso from her body. Without thinking, she bolted for the trees. She charged ahead, knocking one man over with the sheer momentum of her run and punching another one in the face as he came after her.

And then she was free-- crashing through the trees as shouts of alarm followed her. A champion runner, she barreled into the forest, branches whipping at her naked body and flimsy lingerie.

During freshman orientation, she had explored the woods with her parents, and now that knowledge came in handy. There was a steep slope down to a creek, and then rocky terrain beyond. It would be rough going for dirt bikes, especially at night. If she could just circle around to the dorms . . .

The fucking hood-- she had to get that fucking thing off. She could barely breathe through the two tiny nostril holes, and her head was getting oppressively hot. Her hands fumbled around at the base of her neck, and felt the tiny padlock hanging from the buckle . . .

NO! GOD DAMN IT! NO! She fought back the tears and tried to get her head together. As long as she was still free . . .

She reached the creek and skidded down the steep slope, barely slowing down, even though she knew her shoes would be ruined. A few quick strides and she was on the other side of the creek, chill water squishing through her toes. She forced herself to push on, despite the hood hampering her breath and causing sweat to pour down her enclosed head.

There! The lights of the dorms! She could see them through the trees! Only a few more minutes!

Shadowy movements caught her eye, and she dropped to her knees. Her mind refused to process the information.

"It would be easier if you just gave yourself up. It will be much more painful if we have to come get you."

Erin sank to the ground and sobbed. Let this all be just some cruel joke, she prayed. I don't want to be harnessed and trained like an animal!

When she finally raised her head, the dark figures were still there. Sniffling, she struggled to her feet and trudged forward. All her plans for college and career were now discarded like so much trash.

Men converged on her, and one stopped her with a hand on her arm, almost the same way Steffi had stopped her from going out the door barely a half hour ago.

"Be a good girl, now." There was a jingling of metal, and then a leather harness was thrown over her body. She just stood there panting, feeling the weight of it as leather straps tightened around her chest, waist, and shoulders. Tight mitts closed in around her fists, then were buckled and clipped to the back of her harness. Leather cuffs gripped her ankles, and she could hear a chain linking them together.

Her captor leered at her. "Looks like I got me a real wild stallion. I'm gonna have my hands full breaking you in. I might as well start now. The first thing we must learn is not to fight and run away, or we get punished."

The last few words were delivered in a menacing tone, preparing Mandie for punishment.

There was a brief swish of air, and then her bare ass cheeks exploded with pain. A scream filled her mouth, and then another, and another, as a leather riding crop slashed away at her tender skin.

There was probably about ten swats, though she couldn't tell after the first four or five. Her ass burned so much she could barely stand.

"Move!" Her captor tugged at the harness strap between her tits, and she meekly followed, astonished to find herself quivering with fear.

Exiting the woods, she saw his dirt bike. A nylon rope was tied to the back of it. He grabbed the other end and tied it to the front of her harness. She was to be pulled along like an animal . . .

He started up the bike and rode slowly. Even so, Erin had to scurry along with tiny steps, the chain on her leg cuffs alternately clinking and snapping taut with each stride. Part of her wanted to give in and just drop to the ground, but another part of her warned that that would only make things worse for her.

They approached the parking lot, and Erin saw to her horror that there was a row of long trailers parked there. Behind each was a line of young men, each with his captive coed. It was much worse than she could have imagined. Probably half the girls had been taken prisoner. Even with the hoods muffling their cries, wails of rage and despair filled the air, an unholy song of torment.

Erin looked up at the dorm. The girls who had made it dared not turn on their lights. Even so, she could see the shock and concern on the faces of those brave enough to look out their windows.

"Got to get you prepped." Her captor pulled out a pen-knife and began slicing apart her underwear. Erin moaned-- her beautiful lingerie! But it was hopeless, anyway, as her stockings were all torn, and her garter belt was askew and stretched permanently out of shape, though she had no recollection of that ever happening.

He yanked the torn garments out from under her harness, pulled her shoes off, and tugged her stockings off without removing her ankle cuffs. As he removed her bra and panties and shoes, he checked the tags, then pulled out a grease pencil and wrote her measurements on her body: "36B" in big characters across the front of her chest, "38" on her left hip, and "8.5" on her right. The young woman had never felt so dehumanized in all her life. He then gathered everything up and handed them over to an older man who appeared to be acting as a guard. Erin watched as her shoes and sexy underthings were taken and dropped into a nearby trash barrel. She was now naked, and the fall air began to chill her body.

"Her tits are small, but she's got nice red nipples."

"She's a natural redhead, too."

The athletic girl felt her body tense with anger at the grinning men around her, but knew deep down inside there was nothing she could do. And it was probably only the beginning of the indignities she would have to endure.

She looked around her. Most of the other girls were naked now, too. One guy was hacking his way through a thick firm-control girdle his girl was wearing, and another was having trouble with a corset while his buddies stood by and laughed. With all their identities masked by black leather hoods, they were now nothing more than anonymous bodies of various shapes and sizes, though all looked pretty athletic, as if only the best ones had been singled out.

Erin had no way of knowing, but the seniors who had roped them in had spent the summer going through the admissions of the women's college, meticulously picking and choosing and claiming a particular girl. Then they carefully memorized every physical detail from their height and weight to their hair and clothing style. Hidden cameras around the women's dormitories let them track their girls during the first week of college and when they went out on that fateful night. From the woods, they watched them return with high-powered binoculars. They scored well if they got their girl, but lost points if they had to settle for another one; a failing grade was given if they stole someone else's girl.

As the redhead stood there, she was hoping the police or somebody would come and rescue them, even though logic told her it would never happen. Somebody was calling out names, and when her captor's name was called, he led her by the rope on her harness to the waiting truck.

The open back of the truck was like a giant maw ready to eat her. In the dim overhead light, she could see that it had been divided into numerous small stalls. She ascended the wooden ramp and was almost immediately guided into a stall. Erin could see the girl across from her. A blindfold had been snapped onto her hood, and an overhead strap clipped to a D-ring at the top of her hood. Other straps from the sides of the stall were clipped to rings on the sides of her collar, waist belt, and ankle cuffs. Her feet rested on angled wooden blocks, simulating high heels, with leather straps holding them in place. The redhead thought she could see wet trails running down the hood below the blindfold.

Like a fly in a spider's web, thought Erin, before her vision, too, was gone with a few quick snaps of the blindfold. Hearing, too, she realized, as soft rubber bulbs on the blindfold straps filled her ears. Within thirty seconds, she too was immobilized and deprived of most of her senses.

Leather. It was all she could feel, all she could smell, all she could taste as her tongue darted out to wet her lips, all she could hear through her skull as it slid over her hair when she moved her head, and it would be all she could see had there been light enough for her eyes.

That and her nakedness. Fear made her skin prickle, swelling her cuntlips and making her nipples as big and hard as pencil erasers. She could just imagine what these asshole guys were thinking as they watched her.

There was a shudder and a sudden compression of air, and Erin realized that they had slammed the back doors shut. It hit her that this might be the last she would see of college, one that she had chosen because of its track team and strong Psychology department, her major. Was it that long ago when she had jumped for joy at having learned she had been accepted?

There was a vibration, and then a sideways movement. Say goodbye to college, Erin. Say goodbye to your life.

---------------------------

Erin's dormitory was now a horse stable, her room a tiny stall. Her classes were now Obedience, Dressage, Cart Training, and Mating. The last was the worst, as she was strapped down and fucked by a male robotic latex mannequin that simulated sexual intercourse, right down to the groping of her breasts, the grunting, and the hot imitation jizz squirting into her pussy.

The first week, she had been fitted with pony boots, been given a new name ("coppercunt"), had had her head shaved into a mane and her pussy shaved bare, had been branded on her ass, and been trained to communicate by whinnying or stamping a hoof. She learned to eat out of a feedbag, relieve herself outdoors, and let her captor/trainer take care of her intimate hygiene. A professor came by and graded the students on each and every detail of their pony girl's transformation.

Early on, she learned that resistance was futile, and that it was best to just go along with her new role. At first, she had hoped that her family and friends would fight to win her freedom, but as the days wore on with no hope in sight, she resigned herself to the fact that she would be a pony girl for the foreseeable future. She did not want to think too far ahead, because she didn't want to imagine what life would be like as a pony girl at age thirty, or forty, or beyond. Would she be put out to pasture, or end up being mated with ponyboy stallions, or sent on a final journey to the glue factory?

Because she was a good runner, she was trained as a harness racer. She hated the light-weight sulky and all its trappings-- the blinders and head poles and check reins and the tight open-tipped bras that thrust her titties forward--, but learned to accept them. She had overheard conversations about breast enhancements that shaped the titties into long tubes to give racers an edge at the finish line, brain surgeries that destroyed the higher functions of the mind and rendered the pony girl obedient and docile, and untraceable drugs that enhanced a pony's performance at the expense of her health. She hoped none of this was true. Her life was no longer hers, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her days consisted of hours and hours of repetitious workouts, followed by meals of fortified nutritional supplements. She was trained mercilessly on the track, on the treadmill, and in the pool until she felt her legs were going to fall right off. They ignored her tears and moans of pain, concentrating instead on stopwatches and training films. There were times when she wished she could die of a heart attack, but she knew they would never let that happen.

At night, Coppercunt lay on her mattress and wondered how Steffi was doing with her life. How fortunate that she had been spared because of a childhood accident.

-----------------------------

A naked Steffi, now legless, was fitted in the prow of the rowboat so that the dildo went deep into her cunt. She was strapped in at the waist and given two oars, which were then chained to her wrists. The college coed was now the rower for a multi-millionaire with a private lake. As the brunette ferried guests around the placid waters, the back and forth movement of her body caused the dildo to fuck her endlessly, keeping her in a constant state of orgasm.

Hidden microphones in the ladies' room had revealed her betrayal, and now she was being forced to pay for her indiscretion, a lesson to any others who would be so foolish.

THE END