Tall and athletically-trim, the smart-looking blonde stepped out of her sports car and handed the keys to the valet. She was dressed for a night of partying, with her Sex in the City-inspired designer dress, her Manolo Blahnik heels, and her stylish hair, so her "acquisition" came as a complete surprise.

The Ponygirl Police approached her as she reached the door of the nightclub, and told her she had been chosen. Of course, she reacted with disbelief. This was all a prank for a TV show, wasn't it?

It wasn't. This became apparent to her when they pulled out the leather cuffs and the bridle with muzzle. She struggled at first as the Ponygirl Police cuffed her, then yelled for help until they bridled her and put her in the horse trailer. Her purse dangled from her arm as she fumbled to retrieve her cell phone, though by now it wouldn't have done any good. She fought even harder as they removed her dress-- skimpy as it was-- even though they left on her heels, glossy off-white Wolford pantyhose, Victoria's Secret thong, and see-through Frederick's of Hollywood bra.

Struggling turned to tears as the police strapped her into the trailer, the woman realizing that the bar crowd was gathering to watch her being taken away. Nearly naked and unable to move amid the webbing of leather straps, she gave up. Her body was wracked with sobs as they blindfolded her and plugged her ears, then closed the trailer door.

By the time they got to the farm an hour later, she was all cried out, her eyes red and puffy. She gave little resistance as they released her and took her into the stable. She began to moan, however, as they removed the rest of her clothing and fitted her with her harness and bridle. The pony boots were a struggle, but a good couple of swats on the behind with a leather crop changed that. Clearly, the fight was leaving her. A strong and healthy young woman was now rendered powerless by a few well-crafted pieces of leather and steel. I found it gratifying that such a headstrong Alpha woman could become compliant so quickly, though that is not to say that I don't enjoy the tough process of breaking in a newcomer who refuses to give in.

She was hustled into a stall and, were it not for the hobbles with the six-inch strap between her ankles, she would have kicked at the walls of her new dwelling. No doubt it was smaller than her clothes closet. The sight of other ponygirls, docile and submissive, calmed her down a bit, but did not remove the fear and defiance from her eyes.

As it was nighttime, we made her lie down on the air mattress, which she did willingly enough, but she began to panic as we threw a leather hood over her head and zipped it shut. I imagine that the loss of sight and hearing was terrifying to her, as it was to almost all newcomers. A chain from the back wall clipped to a D-ring on the top of the hood, preventing her from moving very far, which she soon discovered to her dismay.

How long she slept we do not know, though she looked pretty weary when we removed the hood the next morning. She seemed relieved when I brought out the sports bra, but made protesting noises when I manually adjusted her full soft breasts so that they rested properly in the cups. It was the same with the panty girdle-- she accepted that, but she turned beet-red and uttered incomprehensible oaths under her breath when I placed the sanitary napkin between her legs. In time, she would come to tolerate these little violations, as had all the new fillies before her.

The panty girdle was backless, allowing for the insertion of the buttplug ponytail. Despite the fact that it was well-greased, she tightened her muscles to prevent insertion. A numbing agent countered that, and it slid all the way in, much to her consternation. Since it was strapped to her harness, she could not force it out. This, too, would eventually cease to be a cause for concern.

We had assumed she would be a tough one, so a breaking bit had been inserted in her mouth. Her protests died quickly when she discovered that a quick jerk on the lead caused the metal bit to dig painfully into her tongue.

Though she followed orders at the lungeing post and training carousel, it was obvious her heart was not in it. That was to be expected. In the months that would follow, she would forget the freedom and carefree joys of her former life and accept the rigorous discipline and spartan conditions of her new occupation. I knew she had been a former sports champion who was now the head of her own company, but that was it-- I did not care to know what our ponygirls did before, or even what their names were, as it no longer mattered. Only two things concerned us-- that they be physically healthy (of course), and that they be intelligent, as the better-educated ones seemed to adjust better to their new lives, despite a greater resistance to their initial training.

During the hourly breaks for water, her eyes alternately pleaded, seduced, and searched in the hopes that she could get one of us to give her a break. We merely smiled and stroked her head. By the end of the day, she had figured out that nothing would work, a realization which only helped to crush her spirit.

Bathroom breaks were another occasion for extreme embarrassment. Like the others, she would soon get used to the lack of privacy, but for now she just shot us disgusted looks as we stood over her, holding her reins while she emptied her bowels and bladder.

Her body was stiff as she was washed and scrubbed down for the night, as she was clearly not comfortable with having strange hands on her naked body. Her facade collapsed when she was laid out and restrained to have her bush trimmed and her head shaved of most of her raven black hair. Though her eyes were blank, her body shook with small tremors and her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing, a sure sign that she was nervous and heartily disliked what was being done to her. I'm sure the fact that she could hear the snipping of the scissors and feel the sharp pull of the razor, but not see what was being done, only added to her apprehension.

At feeding time, she only nibbled at her food in the feedbag at first, but then hunger overtook her anger, and she finished most of what had been given to her.

She did not struggle the second night as we coaxed her onto her mattress and put her leather sleeping hood on her, though it was clear from the look she gave us that she hated it.

She was an exquisite specimen, and I relished her discomfort at being trained like a dumb animal and being made to perform humiliating work like a lowly beast of burden. I came to enjoy preparing her in the morning, pulling the intimate form-fitting undergarments on over her smooth warm flesh and letting the elastic snap into place with a sharp sound before giving them a little tug here and there around her breasts and crotch so they fit just right; tightening the stiff new bridle over her pretty little head, so that it was neither too tight or too loose, and adjusting the rubber bit between her full red lips and perfect white teeth; imprisoning her tiny beautiful feet in the painfully high-arched pony boots and lacing them tight, knowing that she would eventually come to associate walking not with the click-click of high heels but the clip-clop of metal horseshoes; trapping her slim wrists in thick leather cuffs and clipping them to her waist belt, rendering them useless for everything but grasping the shafts of a sulky or cart (I found it takes most of them less than a year to lose their ability to perform tasks that require dexterity, such as writing with a pen or applying make-up); then leading her outside to the training grounds, purposely holding the reins low so that she had to follow with bowed head, sometimes handicapping her with ankle hobbles, so that she had to take frantic stumbling baby steps just to keep up.

My behavior toward her was a constant reminder of her lowly status. I talked to her in baby-talk, as if she were too dumb to understand intelligent adult speech, and praised her profusely if she did something right, as if I was paper-training a puppy. I would pat her on the head after a good workout, like a master petting his favorite dog, or give her a soft slap on the thigh, relishing the feel of damp spandex on her well-muscled leg. She, of course, would be too exhausted to offer any resistance, her thoughts consumed with the prospect of water and rest. The occasional reward of a piece of fresh fruit or chocolate, delivered randomly, no doubt challenged her mind with trying to second-guess my behavior.

She was kept completely helpless and not allowed to perform any task by herself. She was dependent on me for when she could eat, when she could relieve herself, and when she could rest. I shaved her daily so that her bush stayed trim and her mane neat, trimmed her nails before they got too long, changed her sanitary napkin when she had her period, wiped her with rubber gloves when she used the toilet, washed the sweat off her naked body at night, and brushed her teeth before each bedtime. In a way, she was more pampered than a prize-winning poodle-- except for that rare occasion when I had to whip her for misbehaving.

It took a few weeks for her to finally accept her fate, a few weeks before she gave in to her training and chose rewards with treats over punishment with whips. After a time, she came to the conclusion that she was not going to be sexually abused or unduly punished, and she readily obeyed any commands, not matter how physically challenging or psychologically demeaning the task. I think she even came to trust me, in an odd sort of way, though it wasn't as if she really had a choice. She was still not happy with her lot in life, but she had come to a grudging acceptance of it, and she gave no more trouble. In fact, she performed so well on certain days that she was even rewarded with some time on the Sybian, a vibrating saddle with a dildo, which she enjoyed using despite the lack of privacy.

So she was taken completely by surprise when two of her ex-boyfriends stopped by one day to pick up their newly-acquired ponygirl. As the jeering men hauled the stunned and shaking woman out of the stable by her reins and strapped her into a trailer, she realized that-- once again-- her life had taken a turn for the worse.

And that this time she might not be able to adjust.