Moline looked past the annexe, down the long, wide aisle of the stone-built stables. Further down the stables a team of blondes was being made ready, standing chained in their stalls, their hands locked behind their backs. Bare-breasted stable sluts in open jodphurs and black boots, their own hands manacled in front of them, braided their hair with red leather thongs, into ponytails. One statuesque beauty with superb breasts and a flat tummy caught his eye. her heavy gold cunt-ring flashed in the sunlight streaming over her figure from the windows. The slut was applying the last touches of blusher to her face and the blonde was watching herself critically in the long, mirrored wall.

Saskia was the blonde's name and from where she stood she could see the whole stable in the reflections. She too had noticed the arrival of the slave-trainer and was watching and appraising him; how arrogantly he stood, how unhesitatingly he handled the ponies. And why shouldn't he? The girls were owned playthings, trivial possessions of the Princess, and he was their trainer. Saskia was ever thankful that her ultimate owner was a woman. The Princess was cruel - and hardly even bothered to inspect her property - yet how much better it was that a woman should be her possessor. Saskia loved the company of other women. It was hard for her to bear that she could not speak, now that she was part of the Princess's pony-herd, but all the same it was a marvel to be part of such a group. She loved the other girls, and she loved herself being among them - just being beautiful and in the company of other beautiful women was enough. She needed nothing more.

And yet - she couldn't help admiring the natural way the trainer stood - the easy, assured way he moved. She saw him looking in her direction and, almost without thinking, she parted her legs a little more and taughtened her trim belly, thrusting out her breasts, that he might notice her. The red-headed slut who was making-up her face grimaced impatiently at her when she moved, and threw down her brushes. She snapped a lead on the blonde's cunt-ring, unchained her from her stall and led her off towards the lacquering annexe.

Saskia, obliged to follow the diminutive slut tugging her cunt-leash, walked with bare feet on the cool tiles of the mosaic floor. The sunlight streamed down from the high windows and shone brilliantly over the firm, athletic contours of her body. Combined with the rich, dark wood of the stalls and the equipment racks , the mirror walling and the pale stone structure of the stables, the effect of the interior flattered the shapeliness of the ponygirls, capriciously varying the tones of their tanned skin, throwing highlights on the crests of their bodies and making mysterious and inviting the hollows and secret places.

She walked upright and bold, unashamed of the once humiliating ring through her pussy, swaying her hips in the exaggerated manner she had been taught, and enjoying the feel of the eye-catching bounce of her own big breasts. The slut glared at her and attached her leash to a bar outside the lacquering annexe, to await her turn. Inside, the lads were just finishing off the two brunettes, their head-bags now removed, brushing lacquer over their faces with soft brushes, skillfully sweeping the glistening fluid over their darkened eyelids, their ears, their red lips and into their mouths. The taste was sour and Saskia's mouth dried at the thought of it. She chewed on the pad of the gag she wore. Tinselly silver glitter sparkled in the girls' dark, waxed hair. On show days, the girls would be covered in glitter scattered over their whole body before the lacquer had time to dry.

Another two blondes from Saskia's team were brought to the annexe, and stood beside her, clipped by their cunt-rings to the same bar. Like Saskia, their hands were linked inescapably behind their backs, they wore collars and nose-rings - and thick rings through their nipples. Loose-gags filled their mouths. Like Saskia, their nipples had puckered up hard in the presence of a trainer and like her, they gazed excitedly at him. Their long legs parted, their breasts lifted; their heads held high, they looked good together, pretty and elegant and eye-catching.

Saskia tossed her head, brushing her shoulders with the thick blonde tress of her pony-tail. She smiled to herself, watching the trainer. He had just dismissed the four ponies, snapping his fingers to bring the sluts to their feet. They jumped up, their faces flushed and eager. He waved them away without a glance, paying attention only to the smooth-limbed ponygirls walking towards the harnessing-frames. How romantic he looked! His angular face, softened only by the sensuous, almost untrustworthy mouth, the fierce eyes, his dark hair falling over his forehead: all combined to give a picture of intense, even conceited, strength. And then his costume - from the Byronesque silk shirt to his black Hussar boots - he was a picture to set a girl's heart aflame. And his jodphurs, how did they stay so tight around his thighs and the hard, square narrowness of his buttocks, yet still be open at the front to reveal the thick length of his cock emerging menacingly aroused from the soft curls of his dark belly-hair?

Leaving the annexe, the freshly-lacquered brunette ponies caught sight of the man for the first time. Already stimulated by the stable-lads' attentions, the glistening caress of the spray over their naked bodies, the way the lacquer dried, tightening over their skin, making them vividly aware of every part of themselves: now they were confronted by this figure who stepped towards them, sunlight bathing his form with a sudden radiance. The sight hit Alexa, one of the brunettes, like an electric shock. A spasm of fear - mixed with lust - struck her overwhelmingly. Her whole body trembled with excitement and terror. She was hardly conscious of the stable-lad tugging at the lead through her pussy-ring, or her harness-sister walking closely beside her, or the way the lads greeted the newcomer. Her eyes were wide with awe-struck amazement. She saw a vision of lean power, from his fierce eyes to his thick, threatening cock and muscular thighs, and she desired him.

Helpless, her hands locked forever behind her back, her legs parted (she has been a slave so long that to close her legs before a master or mistress was just impossible for her) Alexa stood, trembling, waiting for his inspection. Standing naked, temporarily ignored, her pussy-lips parted and moist, her nipples tight with excitement, she glanced at her companion. The other girl, a leader pony, more experienced than Alexa, looked cool and elegant. Alexa was a little frightened of her. Like the other ponies in the team, this girl's hair was swept up and neatly braided for about six or eight inches to stand high at the back of her head, and then fell far down her back in the thickest and heaviest tress of brunette pony-tail that could be imagined. Her eyes, half hooded, heavily made-up and darkened, were beautiful and expressive above her so-elegantly modelled nose. Her pure white teeth showed, shiny and even around the black leather pad of the loose-gag. The two straps of the gag, one drawn tight around her head, the other looping under her chin, seemed to set off the aloofness of her high-boned, oval face.

And yet Alexa could see, or thought she could see, that even this poised beauty was trembling, that her nipples were erect and firm around the metal studs that pierced them. Even she, so exact and independent, was aroused and stimulated by the presence of a trainer.

"This is Romi," said one of the lads, a boy named Rick, indicating the tall willowy form of Alexa's companion. "She's very experienced. You won't have trouble with her, Mr. Moline."

"I know Romi well," he said, reaching forward and smoothing his hand down the swell of her hips. He took the lead to her cunt-ring from the lad and tugged her towards himself. "She began with me. I'm glad to see she's still such a credit."

Alexa, her mouth dry around the pad of her loose-gag, watched him stroke her companion's beautiful body. She was deeply jealous. Her tummy went cold as she saw the contact of recognition between their eyes, she watched the easy familarity of his hands with the girl's jutting breasts. He was standing close up to Romi and Alexa was sure his cock must be touching her naked skin. Just at that moment she could have burst into tears with annoyance.

And then he was standing in front of her, holding her cunt-leash in his own hand. She felt its tug on her pussy-ring and looked up into his eyes - his firm, dark, assessing eyes. "And this is Alexa," said the boy. "She's new to the stables, and inexperienced. She's still very nervous."

Poor Alexa's face fell. To be presented like that! She thought that all the other girls had heard, that they would be laughing at her. But then his hands were gliding professionally over her hips, curving over and between her bottom and belly, and cupping her between her trembling thighs. He half-smiled when he felt her excitement and he said, "She'll be alright with me. She'll be no problem."

Alexa caught sight of a glint of cruelty in his eyes, a look of callous domination that frightened her. He took her plump breasts into his hands, weighing them, assessing them, enjoying them, and stroked the pierced nipples with his thumbs. He seemed to like the sprinking of freckles that dotted her face and the smooth surface of her bosom. She stood helpless in front of him, the hard insistence of his hands exciting her, the uncompromising invasion of her body by his distainful, demanding presence sending a shiver of cold fear though her belly. She parted her legs stiff further, mollifying and inviting him.

Saskia, watching all this, glanced knowingly at her companions. Her own legs were open, her hips pulled forward by her cunt-ring clipped to the bar.  Now the whole team of six blonde ponies had been lined up there outside the annexe, waiting. Pressed up together, their naked bodies touching, docile and obedient, yet lively and excited, their eyes were on the scene in front of them.

The three men, relaxed and unshamedly erect amongst all these helpless, enslaved females, stood discussing the pros and cons of the ponygirls just as they would with any horseflesh. The lads were eager to please the trainer. Tim, tallish, almost as slender-waisted as a girl, his hair fair and curly, pointed out the harnesses to be used today for the pony teams. His companion, Rick, stockier and more self-assured, with dark eyes and darkly glossy, combed back hair, laughed and stroked the smooth haunches of one of the ponies while he talked. Of the two, Saskia preferred Tim, whose nervy, delicate touch on her body pleased her own temperament. Rick was more vigorous, rougher, callous like the older men. Both were cruel and vindictive. The blonde sighed inwardly. She was just a plaything for these men. Oh, when would her beloved Princess drive her again?

The trainer, his rod rigid with arousal and thrust up and forward like a standard of maleness amongst the herd of ponycunts, led the two brunettes by their cunt-leashes to the harnessing stands. The two lads, grinning and keen, began the long process of harnessing the other four girls.

At that moment, to Saskia's annoyance - she wanted to watch the show - the slut came to prepare the line of blondes for their lacquering. Gathering up the length of braided hair that hung stiffly down Saskia's back, the girl coiled it neatly into the snood of the head-bag before reaching up and pulling the stifling cloth down over Saskia's head. Her light blocked, her view of events lost, the blonde pony-girl could only stand in frustration and let the slut pull tight the cords of the head-bag under her chin and around her neck. Soon the whole line had been fitted-out, each one standing with their bodies naked to the gaze of others, blindfolded and gagged, breathing the stuffy air inside the heavy material of their hoods. Now they would just have to wait patiently until the lads were finished with the brunette team and could start coating their smooth flesh with the sticky, itchy lacquer.