The idea came up at a play party I was attending with my owner. I wasn't doing anything that night - my rider had begged off at the last minute, and while my owner is ok as a rider, he's just too big for me to carry in a saddle, and there wasn't room for a cart. So I didn't get to put on my patented pony thing. Pity. We were lazing about watching the couples doing their things with the whips and chains when someone came up with the idea. I still don't know whether I want to kiss him or kill him. Maybe both. Actually, bucking him off so he fell on his head would be about right, but, as I said, I'm a little too small to carry it off.

Anyway, the idea. One of the doms opined that a week long play party would be about right for a vacation. Someone else seconded the idea. One of their slaves popped up with "Oh, could we, master?" She's since learned both of her lessons, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Also, I wasn't there, I just heard about it afterwards.

Another one piped up that he might know just the place. It had been built as a resort, but it was so far out of the way that nobody wanted to go there in the winter - no place to ski, and nothing else to do but play gin rummy. It was in use in the summer for private sport events, since it had a track and a shower building. In the winter, it was woefully underutilized; too far away for corporate getaways. The odd guru came up there for meditation retreats, and that was about it. Anyway, Bill, that's my owner, suggested that we take a run up there and look at the place.

So, next weekend Bill and I (I'm Anna, by the way), went up with Don and Alice (Don's slave girl). We stopped to pick up the rental agent, and then went at least ten miles into the hills before we got to this picturesque place. It was beautiful. There was a lodge, some private cabins, and several buildings that looked like barns or something. And there was a ring. It was too small for a regulation horse race, but I could see how a sports team would think that it was just the place for training. No place to go, nothing to do but grow muscles and plenty of attitude.

We took a look at the lodge, which was in good shape. One of the outbuildings had a large locker room with open shower stalls, and another enclosed room that was probably intended to be used for equipment, uniforms and such. Best of all, the place was reasonably well insulated and heated - we could stable a dozen ponies there with no sweat.

So Bill and Don and Alice and I wandered around, imagining where things would go, and checking possibilities with the rental agent. I should mention at this point that I am not Bill's slave girl. I'm his pony. When I'm not in harness, I'm his live-in girl friend (or he's my live-in boyfriend, it’s hard to tell as we share the place). Alice, however, is Don's slave, pretty much full-time. They roll play equality when they don't want to freak the mundanes.

The rental agent caught on pretty quick. She asked point blank, adding that it really didn't make a difference to her, or to the owners, but they didn't want to be blind-sided. We all saw her point, and fessed up. It turned out that the caretaker and his wife were also a D/s couple; they would enjoy the chance to have her wear her collar openly.

We made a tentative booking for three months, in the dead of winter. Next year, we want a different date - pulling a snow plow is just a bit too steady work for this pony. But I get ahead of myself again.

Bill agreed to organize the ponygirl part of things, and Don got onto the other end. Bill and I agreed that I wouldn't work on the details with him, he wanted it to be a surprise, and I thoroughly agreed. So I worked on some of the more obvious things, and got left out of the overall planning.

The first thing that Bill did was rearranging my exercise schedule. I had been keeping in shape with aerobics three times a week. He told me to get the gym to start me on endurance training. By the time we got to our week outing, I had worked up to eight miles a day at a trot, pulling a variable load, without being seriously winded. My trainer was quietly excited, I seemed to be doing quite well.

We send out for pony hooves for me. I'd been using six-inch heels for pony work before, but they simply wouldn't do for a long-term experience. When they arrived, I found out what a difference a real shoemaker meant. They were actually comfortable! I could wear them for hours on end, effectively standing on my toes, and not have my feet complain. Now, if I could just get dress pumps that were that good... In comparison, the six-inch heels I had been wearing were real killers. I mean, my foot doctor would have killed me if he found out I was wearing them, they were so bad.

We also had winter uniforms made. These were something special. They looked like fairly thin fabric, but they were lined with one of the new super insulators, and would keep the wearer comfy with a wind chill of 20 below. Also, new custom-made harnesses, for long term wear without binding. I shudder to think of the bill. Fortunately, all of that equipment survived, and can be used again, and again, and again. Grin...

Finally, the weekend arrived. We had lined up eight ponies. Three of them were couples, that is, the pony and her owner were married, or the equivalent. The other five were either strays, or had owners that were more in the line of managers. We had a dozen handlers, divided between grooms, trainers and riders. Bill was the stable overseer.

We got up there Friday afternoon, well ahead of the rush. Most of the participants would come Friday night, or drift in Saturday or Sunday. However, five of the ponies would be there Friday, so we needed to make the stable ready. Bill and I had a trailer of electrical equipment, lights and wire and timers and stuff. I not only had no clue what it was for, I hadn't had any clue that he was thinking about it. We really had managed to keep me in the dark about a lot of stuff.

I got the job of installing it in the stable area. The second owner/pony couple arrived shortly after we did, and she helped. I'm not certain of whether ponygirls tend to be tomboys in real life, but we certainly were. An afternoon spent playing electrician wasn't what I was expecting. After installing it, I still didn't know why it was there. I thought that the stable room already had plenty of light. Boy, was I wrong.

Meanwhile, the guys were out in the shower area, festooning the showers with chains, and installing a couple of other pieces of equipment. There really wasn't much.

Three of the other ponies arrived while we were making ready, and were put to work installing the stalls, and anchoring a ring bolt to the wall in each stall. Each stall was supplied with lots of blankets. Straw would have been more authentic, but Bill and I had decided that it was too scratchy for good sleep. So we got blankets.

Finally, everything was ready. One of the guys started cooking up a mess of porridge in a big iron pot, and Bill told us we were starting our pony week. Strip! We stripped, and put our clothes in lockers on one wall. We wouldn't see them for a week. As it turned out, someone cleaned them, which was nice of them.

Then, the cuffed our hands behind our backs, dumped us on the floor of the showers, and hog-tied us. This was not what I had expected. But then I was promptly released, marched over to a pillar, and made to squat over a bucket, with my hands shackled to the pillar behind me. "Shit", I muttered. Bill looked me in the eye, and said "Exactly. You stay there until you do it".

I was embarrassed almost to death, but I let go. In the middle, my guts decided that they might as well let go too, and I shit my load into the bucket. I'd heard of people turning bright red from embarrassment, but this was the first time I had ever seen it. I had just never expected to see myself do that!

When I was done, one of the handlers released my cuffs from the pillar, and marched me over to a weird contraption that looked like a jar with a spout on the end, and a strap on the spout. He sat me down on my heels, and shoved my face into the spout, so that I had to open my mouth around it. Then he strapped my head to it.

For the next act, he dumped three ladles full of porridge into the jar and walked away. He really didn't have to say anything; the porridge came out of the spout into my mouth like it had a mind of its own. I had to swallow or drown. I swallowed. Eventually, it all went down. He came back and dumped some water into the jar. I swallowed that too.

More than somewhat shell-shocked, I didn't resist at all when he unbuckled me from the horrendous feeding device, and marched me over to one of the shower stalls. Another attendant quickly pulled my legs apart and chained them to the side of the stall. Then he took off my cuffs, and chained my hands to the sides and above my head.

Then he turned on the shower and picked up a big brush. I suddenly got some insight into how a load of laundry felt in the washing machine. Shower, lather, scrub, rinse, scrub, rinse, and dry. He used a hair dryer on my hair, and brushed it out nicely. This gave the rest of my body a chance to drip dry. The fluffy towel would have made me feel pampered if I didn't already feel like a load of dirty laundry. At least, it wasn't a tumble drier.

I saw that they had a regular assembly line going. While I was being laundered, there was another pony being fed, and another taking her evening shit. The next one was being trussed up in the shower stall next to me.

Then he unhooked my hands, and cuffed them behind my back again. This time, he locked a collar around my neck, and attached the leash to a handy pole before he released my legs. I was towed into the stable area, and my collar was chained to the ring in the first stall. I actually had about ten feet of chain - I could stand, and leave the stall for a few feet. I wasn't gagged. We had discussed it, and decided that gagging the ponies at night was not only unsafe, but it was also counterproductive. While ponygirls were livestock, they weren't ponies, and it wouldn't hurt to recognize that fact. In other words, we would be allowed to talk.

After a couple of minutes, the second pony was lead in, and chained in the second stall. Then the third, followed by the fourth, and finally the fifth and last. I'd met three of them before at various pony affairs, but had only talked to one. We introduced ourselves and started to compare notes. Having the chains long enough to meet in the center was certainly useful.

After the fifth and last pony was placed in her stall, they locked the door, and then the lights started to misbehave. The room went through a glorious sunset. In about ten minutes, it was pitch dark, and I felt sleepy enough to fall over where I was sitting. I got back to my stall, snuggled into the blankets, and fell into a deep sleep.

Day 2.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. At least, that was how it seemed. Those darned lights went from the first glimmers of dawn to full daylight. By then, all of us were awake. We could hear some activity on the other side of the door.

The door opened, and one of the grooms came in. He grabbed me by the collar, and put a hood over my head, and locked it on. Then he walked me out to the tack area, made me squat, and attached my cuffs to something behind me. I was being held in a squatting position. To my mortification, my bladder let loose. I could hear my piss tinkling into what sounded like a pail. When I was done, I got force fed and laundered. This time, a woman dressed in a rubber suit did the laundry. When she was done, one of the grooms harnessed me.

He first took my winter outfit, and put me into it. This was somewhat of a production, since it was one piece with arms and legs. Only the crotch area was missing. He pulled it over my head, and then released an arm, and forced it into the garment. Then he reattached that arm, and released the other one, and forced it into the garment. Then, ditto for each leg. I was now still vertically stretched to all four corners, but I had been encased in my winter insulation.

The belt was next. This went around my waist, was cinched in back, and locked in place. Then he placed gloves on each of my arms. The gloves ended in bondage mittens, that is, they were one piece, with no separate parts for either finger or thumb. Next, he put a harness over my shoulders. It came between my breasts in front, and buckled to the waistband. Likewise, the back piece buckled to the waistband in back, and the crosspiece held the shoulder straps in place.

Each hand was released from its tether, and bent up behind my back. When it had gone up as far as it would go, it got locked to the harness. Finally, both hands were strapped together at the wrist, and locked. My arms weren't going anywhere.

Next, he attached a crotch strap. This attached in back to the waistband, went between my legs, and attached in front to the waistband. Just to make it interesting, it had a butt plug and a dildo attached. I gave a heartfelt gasp as I felt the intruders work their way into my inner recesses, and settle there as the strap was tightened.

This wasn't all. The next part of my outfit was the helmet. He arranged my hair into a column over my head, and pulled it through the top of the helmet as he settled the helmet on my head. It fit snugly, covering my ears and forehead. The bottom buckled around my neck, and attached to the body harness. As a last gesture, he put a bit between my teeth, and attached it to rings in the side of the helmet.

My feet were untethered, and I was lead over to another area, where I was sat down, and my boots were laced onto my feet. Finally, a tug on my reins, and I got to my hooves, and was lead over to the wall, where my leash was tossed over a hitching rack.

A few minutes later, a second pony was hitched beside me. Then we were both lead out, and harnessed to a sleigh. Someone came out, got into the sleigh, and shook our reins with a loud "giddyap". It sounded like a woman. We giddyapped.

It took a few paces for us to synchronize our paces. After that, we fell into a lockstep, and just kept going wherever we were pointed. She turned us one way and another, and put us through various changes of pace. I felt I was doing fairly well, but I thought my partner was getting winded. Eventually, she faltered.

Our driver pulled us to a stop immediately. She got out, and checked the other pony. She removed the bit, and asked her how she was doing. The pony replied that she only needed a couple of minutes to get her breath back. The mistress told her she was being a fool - she might make it back if she walked, but she certainly wouldn't if she had to pull anything. Then she put the bit back in, and turned to me.

She took the bit out, and asked me the same question. I told her honestly that I had gone longer, with a heavier load in training. She expressed surprise. I told her that my owner had me working on just this - distance and load for the last three months. She shook her head and smiled. "Can you make it back with just you pulling the sleigh?"

"Well, maybe. If it’s just you and the sleigh, maybe straight, and maybe with a rest break. If you have to carry her in the sleigh, I will probably need a couple of rest breaks. I don't know how this sleigh feels with just me pulling it. I should be able to do it at a trot. I don't think a canter or gallop would be wise."

"How soon will you be ready?"

"I'm ready now. Really."

She tethered the other pony behind the sleigh, and we started out at a slow trot. She pulled me to a stop almost immediately. The other pony had stumbled.

"I'm going to have to put her in the sleigh"

"Let’s take it slow at first. If I feel comfortable with the weight, I'll take it up to a trot. OK?"

She nodded, and we were off. Actually, while the weight was more with just me pulling, and another pony in the sleigh to boot, the fact that I didn't have to coordinate compensated. My body seemed to be running just fine at a slow trot, although I don't think I could have gone any faster, or with any more weight.

Finally, we came back into the yard, and she got the ailing pony off of the sled into the shed. I saw that the other three ponies were hitched to a snowplow, and were clearing the track. This seemed like a good idea.

A couple of the grooms got her onto a table, and began working on a massage. They got me onto another table, and began to work my muscles. I had thought I was doing fine, but when they got their fingers into me, the lactic acid started pouring out, and I whimpered in pain. It was good pain, but still, I hurt.

Bill came over, and asked me what happened. I told him that the other pony had collapsed, and had to be brought back in the sleigh. I figured I had gone just about to my limit, but not beyond, so I would be OK after a couple of hours of rest. He asked if I wanted to wander around, or did I want to go back into my stall. I said, "put me back into my stall, please".

After a few more minutes of massage, I was chained back in my stall. I promptly fell asleep.

I woke up after a couple of hours. At least, I think it was a couple of hours, there was no way for me to tell time. I heard some rustling in the next stall, so I stood up to look. The other pony was there, fast asleep. I felt stiff, so I began some loosening exercises.

After a little while, Bill came in, with the woman following. She started apologizing. I cut her off right away.

"Hey, I'm fine. The only real problem was that I had to haul her back as well as you. No damage done."

She kept trying to apologize. I stopped it by stepping up and planting a big, slobbering kiss on her mouth.

Bill intervened then. "Quit bellyaching and take her out for another spin. This time, pay attention to how she is doing. The only way you are going to learn how to tell if they are approaching their limits is to run them around."

The grooms brought me back out, and put me through the harnessing assembly line. That porridge never tasted so good. I guess I was really hungry. I found myself back in front of that sleigh again; this time it was rigged for a single pony. We spent a fair amount of time sleighing around trails around the place, with frequent rest breaks. She got me up to a gallop a couple of times on some level stretches, but mostly I trotted. Eventually, she turned the sleigh back toward the resort. When we came into the clearing, she slowed me down to a walk, and I pranced with the show steps I had been taught. We pulled up to a round of applause, just as the sun was setting. I preened a bit, I just couldn't help it, the applause felt so good, the perfect end of a perfect day.

She unharnessed me from the sleigh, took the bit out, and then held up something in her hand. It was a piece of candy. I took it with my teeth from her fingers, and then planted another big, slobbering kiss on her face. She blushed, and then gave me a big hug before leading me into the harnessing room, and looping my reins around a convenient rail.

I never saw her again, and I don't know her name. Events intervened, as you will soon learn. Maybe next year, if there is one.

One of the grooms started removing my harness beginning with the crotch strap. I gave a big sigh as the dildo and butt plug came out. To tell the truth, I got no stimulation from them at all - the crotch strap was simply too tight to allow them to move. He moved me over to the bucket, and I relieved myself. Then, on to the feeder. Next, he shackled my feet in one of the shower stalls, removed my helmet and straps, released my arms and removed the top part of the winter uniform. He then cuffed my hands behind my back, and started work on removing my boots.

Now that I was naked, he moved me over to a massage table, and gave me one of the best massages I had ever had. At least, it felt that way, even though it was probably the standard treatment we always got. After the massage, back to the shower stall for laundry, and finally into my stall for the night.

There were a couple of other ponies in their stalls when I arrived, plus the pony from this morning. I whinnied a greeting, and they came out to rub noses with me. Then I went back to my stall, and dozed. Other ponies came in, and were put into their stalls after a while. Eventually, the door to the stable area closed with a thud, the lock clicked, and the lights did their thing. I did mine. I slept.

Day 3.

I woke the next morning when the lights pretended that it was dawn. By the time the faux dawn had segued into faux daylight, I was awake and raring to go. I started doing stretching exercises in my stall. Pretty soon, the door opened, and the grooms started unhitching us from our stalls and leading us out into the harnessing room.

Yesterday, I was first. Today, I was last to be lead out. Today, instead of being lead to the bucket to do my morning shit, I was pushed onto the floor of a shower stall and hog-tied there. There I remained for some time, while I heard various activities around me. Eventually, one of the grooms released my feet, led me somewhere and made me squat down. Since I was still hooded, I didn't quite know where I was, but since he had me squatting, with my hands tethered to something behind me, I simply let go. He apparently did have the foresight to have a bucket beneath me, because I heard the tinkle as my piss hit the sides.

Then, on to the morning assembly line. Fed, trussed up and laundered, then dressed, harnessed, penetrated and finally led to the hitching rack by the door, where I lined up with the other ponies. Then I stood, fidgeting slightly.

Finally they opened the door. God, what a mess! We must have had a huge storm while we slept, because there was a foot or so of new snow, drifts all over the place, and what looked like a couple of trees down. I had this premonition that I wouldn't be giving sleigh rides today.

Shows what I know. The first thing that happened is that four of us were lead out and harnessed to two sleighs. We headed for the access road. For the rest of the day, we worked on clearing the road. And I mean we worked. This wasn't any kind of display; it was brutal, slogging work that drilled in the meaning of being a working pony.

The first couple of drifts weren't too bad. They looked huge, but the guys had a snowplow type contraption that allowed us to make short work of them. Exactly how, I don't know. I do now, but only because I saw the videotapes. I understand that "Pony Girls Clearing Snowdrifts" didn't make much of a hit on the internet. No sex. But it sure fascinated me.

In case you haven't seen it, the snow remover was a marvelous contraption. It wasn't properly a plow at all, I guess they figured that any drift we could get with a plow wouldn't be much trouble for a car to simply slog through. What they had was a mechanical shovel or scoop. It had a long arm and a big scoop on the end. They simply planted it in the middle of the road, just in front of the wall of snow, and harnessed us to one end of the arm.

They would hitch us to one end of the arm and we would pull. The scoop plunged into the drift. Back up, change the point where we are attached to, and pull the scoop out with its load of snow. Back up again, hitch to another arm, and pull, and the scoop flew up and tossed the snow over by the side of the road.

Repeat. Again and again. We hadn't trained for that kind of power pull, but each pull was mercifully short, and punctuated by a little rest as we were moved back and repositioned for the next one. As I said, we made short work of the first two monster drifts.

Then we found the first tree down across the road.

Not only were our handlers prepared for this, it turned out that downed trees were dead easy in comparison with snowdrifts. Some work with a chain saw rendered the tree into sections, one on each side of the road, and one lying across it. Hitch up a block and tackle, and hitch us to it. Pull!!! When we turned around to look, the center section was lying by the side of the road, as pretty as you please.

Then, on to the next snowdrift or tree.

We took breaks. We got to piss, we got watered and fed and we got to stand around for a while. Then the break was over, and back to work. Get attached to a rope, pointed in some direction, and then pull. Repeat.

And repeat. I started hearing from muscles that I didn't know I had. Also tendons, ligaments, bones and calluses. Eventually, it dawned on me that either I paid attention to my body, in exquisite detail, or I would go slightly nuts. Once I started paying attention, I started finding all kinds of subtle things I could do to make the task easier. I wound up in a totally different space. It wasn't anything like how I normally am, and it certainly wasn't subspace or anything like it. It was a space that was entirely forces, balance, pushes, pulls, stress, strain and release.

We kept on until the shadows began to lengthen. Not that I noticed it at the time. I was too far into that special space where all that mattered was how my body was performing. We got back in front of the work sleighs, and pulled some more until we got back to the stable. This time, I didn't feel like prancing when we pulled into the clearing. I felt like collapsing in a puddle of lactic acid.

The grooms, bless their hearts, didn't let us do that. They unharnessed us immediately, let us relieve ourselves and fed us. Then two of us went up onto the massage table immediately, while they walked the other two around to make certain we didn't stiffen up. By the time I got to my stall, I fell over and was asleep so fast that I didn't hear the groom lock the chain onto my collar. The only reason I know that he did was that it was locked on when I woke up the next morning.

Day 4. Also days 5, 6, 7 and 8.

More road clearing. Each day was just like the previous one, except that we went farther down the road before hitting the first drift or fallen tree. I spent most of the time in that special space learning my body in a way that I would have thought was a wild flight of fancy - until I fell into it. I was so taken up by that space that I literally didn't notice anything outside of myself. I couldn't tell you if we cleared the road, or if I was just pulling something around a track. Except that there was too much variation to be a simple track.

Stop a few times for a crap and to be fed. Back up to the stables, get one of those heavenly massages, and sleep like the dead.

After a while, my mind started to become used to the feel of my body, and I had some attention to spare for what was going on outside. If I had worked longer, I suspect that I could have balanced inner and outer, but that was not to be.

Day 9.

Day 9 dawned like all the other days before it. The lights did their thing, and I did mine. While I couldn't tell for certain, I think I was feeling a bit more bounce each morning. I certainly was bouncing up with the faux sunrise, and doing my stretching exercises with some vigor.

I got put through the harnessing process until they finished the rubdown. Then the attendant released the restraints, swatted me on the butt, pointed at the lockers, and told me to get dressed.

I'm afraid I just stood there stupidly. Then the light dawned. "Its over?" I must have sounded somewhere south of inane.

"Well, almost. You've still got some work ahead of you, but its all girl work, not pony work. Put on jeans and wait over there for us to finish with the rest of the ponies."

Getting dressed pulled me out of the rest of it. By the time I buckled my belt and tied my shoes, I was back to normal. And I had one question. Why were we stopping early? So I asked one of the attendants.

He roared. "Girl, you were really into it, weren't you? We aren't stopping early. Its Sunday, and we're right on schedule." I must have looked as poleaxed as I felt. Where did I lose a couple of days?

When I thought back over the last however many days, I realized that darling Bill must have taken a golden opportunity to run a mind game on us. Nobody had mentioned anything about time in our hearing. We were allowed to let our sense of time freewheel. A couple of the other girls thought that they had been clearing that road for several weeks, and were worried if they still had jobs to come back to!

When we were all assembled, Bill came in and gave us our instructions for tear down and clean up. The blankets got taken out to one of the vans, the stall walls were removed, the special lighting got taken down, and all of the equipment in the harnessing room was packed up.

Equally interestingly, I still had some of that special sense of how my body was functioning. Disassembling all of the electrical equipment was a totally different experience from assembling it in the first place. My pace started real slowly, as I had to spend time rebalancing myself - so much of what I had done was utterly clumsy, and could have strained something. As I worked, I picked up the pace, so I made up time and finished my part of the cleanup by around noon, about when everyone else finished.

We all trooped over to the main building, and were served lunch. The kitchen crew had been gotten up in Gorean collar and camasks; they were still in uniform. The kitchens would be the last to be disassembled. I was told later that the crew stayed in slave girl uniform just to give us a treat; they felt we deserved it after clearing that damn road.

The aftermath.

I asked Bill where he had ever gotten the idea for that faux sunset and sunrise. He looked worried until I told him that not only did I love it, but also I wanted it installed in our bedroom, like right away, chop chop. He groaned. Turned out he had rented it; we'd have to budget for buying one if I really wanted it. And he was afraid that the budget had taken major lumps with this last party. Damn, I hate budgets. One of the things I hadn't thought about all of last week. Damn again. Oh, well.

Something else I found out later. The storm had knocked out the power and phone lines. This shouldn't have been a surprise, really. The resort had its own emergency power, with fuel for a month, but there wasn't any backup for the phones. It was just too out of the way for the cell phone network; one of the things that made it attractive for corporate getaways, I suppose. The caretaker maintained communications with a ham radio rig (talk about Stone Age!) He'd told the county not to worry about the road, we were handling it from our end. The county was only too happy to ignore us - they had enough on their plates as it was. The utility crews likewise had us on the bottom of their lists, for the same reason. They were coming in as we were leaving.

We spent parts of the next month debriefing everybody on the experience. We piled up a huge stack of notes on things to change, harness, equipment, and so forth. One of the things that surprised Bill was that we didn't want the morning harnessing routine changed. Maybe put some water and munchie type grains in the stalls, but that force feeding kind of grew on us. All of us ponies had things to add to our exercise schedules; all of the grooms had things that they wanted to practice before next year. I was apparently the only one who had fallen into that special space, but everyone else had noticed things to improve. I had this suspicion of a sudden boom in physiology, lifesaving and massage courses registrations.

The resort wants us back. There's lots of maintenance around the land that hasn't been done because of lack of funding. The caretaker has this dream of a win-win situation. We get to play pony games, and he gets a lot of deadwood and other stuff cleared off of the trails. I gather he's thinking of harnesses and load angles a lot these days. And he's starting to train his wife/slave girl as a pony.

Would I do it again? Of course. The only thing I wonder is if the training and show schedule would be quite as effective as the week spent clearing that damn road. I wonder if I should mention that to Bill. I'm certain he would come up with something surprising. He's one creative guy when it comes to putting me through my paces, which is why I'm marrying him. I'm still thinking about whether I want a traditional marriage, with family and everything, or a simple ceremony with me in full pony regalia. Maybe both, with the pony ceremony first to celebrate our real relationship, and then the family one afterward.

The end (for now).

Copyright © Xaltatun of Acheron. All rights reserved. Posted here with permission.
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