The following morning, I was harnessed to a small waggon and worked around Home Farm with one of the peasants.

He drove me to the old stables where I had been taken when I was first taken into ponyhood and there he started to tidy up, sweeping out the old stalls and shovelling the sweepings into my waggon.

We worked our way through the building until we came to the last room at the very end of the stable.

The old man pushed the door open and light flooded out.

I saw Mark one of the Trainers and he was standing beside a naked woman, held in two sets of wooden stocks.

One set encircled her neck and wrists, the other her ankles.

She was half turned, her eyes downcast and I saw small bells attached to her nipples.

Mark almost ran to the door, slamming it in the peasant’s face.

Shocked at the sight I had seen, I was even more horrified when I recognised Martha, from the Secretariat.

I was not to see her again for a fortnight, when, once again I was employed on Stable Duty with one of the stable girls.

In one of the side yards used for lunge training, I saw her, naked except for a neck collar and waist belt, her wrists secured at her back, high stepping, under Mark’s tuition.

He held her taught on a lead from her collar, and threatened her with his crop as she high stepped, slowly, daintily around him, looking neither to left or right.

She looked terrified. But I had been there myself; all of us had, and knew that it did not last forever, even if it felt like it.

I was to see her later, for she was quartered in the stable on the other side of the main yard.

The days mostly where busy and as they passed, I was drawn further and further into a world where I was more ‘pony’ than girl. I was able, and indeed welcomed my ability to become equine in my outlook.

Thinking of nothing in particular, but still responding to the commands transmitted to me through my reins and my bit as I worked in the shafts of a Farm waggon, or trotted in the shafts of a carriage, my Owner or driver in total control of my actions.

One day, out in the countryside, having been reined in under a tree for a rest, my Owner told me, as she stroked my heaving breasts that there was to be entertainment for the Members in the evenings after they had dined.

I was to be presented, along with some of the other ponies, and that there was to be a competition for Elegance, Harness and Presentation.

I nodded my acknowledgement, and snorted round my bit as I pawed the ground with my shoove. ”So, Nyteflyte, with that in mind, I have instructed Robert to purchase new harnessing for you and that should be here by the end of the week.” I didn’t know what day it was anyway, but hoped that I did not have long to wait.

I snorted again and tossed my head as she laughed before remounting the carriage and driving me back along the road at an easy trot.

That evening the other girls were as excited as I was, several of them having been told by their Owners what I had been told by mine.

Each day, we waited impatiently for our new harnessing to arrive, and each day we were disappointed.

Each evening we returned from our daily toil and talked and surmised in the stable as Hilda carried out her menial duties.

Then when we had almost given up hope, and had decided that it was not going to happen, we arrived back from our evening shower to find new harness laid out on our beds.

I fell in love with mine even as I saw it spread out on the bed.

Shining black leather, inset with gold with a gold full-cupped bra to cover my breasts, gold trimmed collar and half face bridle and bit combined. From the top of my bridle a black and red plume sprayed out. From my bit hung two heavy metal chains, swinging against my body as I pranced on my shooves.

My waist was held in by a leather belt, again inset with gold metal from which a matching chastity belt swooped down over my belly and curved between my thighs before rising up between my buttock to the rear of my waist belt. On the inside of my chastity belt, a hard rubber plug pressed against my clitoris so that as I moved, it sent the most fantastic sensations coursing through my body.

My shooves were patent leather, above the knee and I wore black leather straps at my upper thighs and matching straps at my wrists and upper arms.

Robert’s final act was to present me with a new ponytail, which he inserted himself, taking great care not to hurt me, as he eased it slowly between my presented buttocks.

I stood up, moving my haunches to seat my tail properly, feeling, at the same time my chastity belt pressing pleasantly against my clitoris.

I held up my head proudly, and snorted my thanks into my half mask, stamping my shoove to show my gratitude.

He led me, off my rein, across the yard, the heavy chain hanging from my bit swinging across my metal clad breasts.

Out of the yard and before us stood a four wheeled, flatbed carriage with a large cage on it.

Between the shafts, six ponies, all dressed in black.

From the back of the cage a wooden slatted ramp rose from the ground to the open door.

Inside already hitched to the cage, stood Eden and Blaise.

Eden wore black latex with shooves and glooves, whilst Blaise was harnessed all in white and wore high heels instead of shooves.

Robert pointed to the ramp and I carefully picked my way up into the cage, making sure that my shooves gripped the slats.

To slip would have been a catastrophe.

Once I was in, he followed me, secured me to the sides of the cage and left, removing the ramp and securing the ramp.

He mounted the seat and slapped the reins, the waggon jerked and we were on our way to our first of many shows.

Oh, what a night that was!

We were shown by our Owners, trotted, high-stepped, side-stepped, and pranced in front of the audience, before being hitched to a rail at the side of the hall where we were inspected, touched, discussed and prodded.

Blaise was sold that evening for £300, 000.

My Owner was offered almost the same for me, and I hoped and prayed that I was not to go to another Owner.

Then, the judges of the contest, having completed their critique and counted up the points, after publicly saying how well we had all performed, announced the winner, and, my God, it was me!!

I snorted my glee into my mask and stamped my shoove as hard as I could to show my happiness at their decision.

I heard one member offer my Owner £450,000, but again she declined.

She stood at my head holding my bit, beaming her pleasure at the audience.

The judges announced Blaise second and Eden third.

A large red rosette appeared and my Owner clipped it to the side of my half mask.

After much jollity, the assembly broke up, and we were led back to our cage and returned to Home Farm.

At the entrance to my loose box, Robert pinned my rosette, so that I saw it every time I entered or left my stall.

The following morning, I was harnessed by Robert and spent the day working with a peasant, drawing a waggon for him as he went about his duties.

That evening, on my return to my loose box, I found that Firestorm was to be stabled with me.

When she returned, she was as pleased as I was and before we were prepared for the showers, we hugged each other and kissed as well, even though we were still in harness.

It gave me a strange feeling to have our bits against each other’s, as our lips and tongues touched and mingled.

It meant, more than anything, that she could make love to me much more frequently than had been possible and it was with a racing pulse and pounding heart that I offered myself to her that first evening.

I cannot describe the feeling I got from her thrusting deeper and deeper into me with her false manhood.

One morning we were all taken to the main stable yard, haltered and chained together.

To our horror, we saw Eden on all fours in the centre of the yard.

Harnessed in minimal blue tack, her ankles spread wide by an ankle bar, her rump thrusting high in the air, her tail flaring above.

Her head lifted as we arranged ourselves in a row, and her eyes begged us.

We stood, sucking on our bits, first on one shoove then the other, as we waited and waited, our harness clinking quietly, shooves scratching on the stone flagged yard.

Our stable girls stood to one side, talking quietly to each other, from time to time looking to the main yard entrance.

Eventually, we heard the clatter of hooves outside and then into the yard drove a pony pulling a sulky.

The driver heaved on the reins and the pony stopped in a swirl of dust.

But this was no ordinary ponygirl, in fact, we saw with astonishment; this was a ponyBOY.!!

He stood over six feet in height and the sulky he was harnessed to was driven by one of our stable girls.

He was naked except for a full head halter with plume, blinkers, shooves and scarlet tail.

He was harnessed by means of chains, the single shaft coming between his thighs, one chain attached from the front of the shaft to a collar encircling the base of his organ.

The other was from the shaft behind him and attached to the back of a broad, heavy leather belt around his waist.

His body was running with sweat and he was covered in a fine film of dust.

From the marks on his body it was obvious that the whip had been used freely on him during his journey.

One of our stable girls walked across to him and grasped his organ in her hands, smiling at the driver as she did so.

He jerked backwards and was rewarded with a cut from the stable girl’s whip.

He stood still, gasping for breath, his chest heaving, as the stable girl stroked his organ.

Was I the only ponygirl who felt affected by this action. I stole a glance at the other ponies and saw that Firestorm was not watching the ponyboy, but staring at me, unblinking.

I had the grace to blush.

Our stable girl released the ponyboy and led him by his reins across to Eden, who could not see what was happening, but we could all hear her moans of fright.

The pony balked and was whipped again, before being dragged to a point immediately behind poor Eden.

Suddenly, I realised just who I was looking at. My ex-husband Rex!!

A ponyboy! Rex, the man I hated most in the world, here at Home Farm, Castle Brno in the middle of God only knows where.

How on earth could that have happened? I hardly cared what was happening in front of me as my mind raced through the possibilities.

And what would I have thought if it had been myself instead of Eden, spread there in front of us, waiting to be mated.

One stable girl moved to Eden’s head whilst the other pushed the pony up behind the captive ponygirl.

She reached under Eden’s thighs, then stroked the ponyboy’s organ before holding it hard between Eden’s parted buttocks.

The ponyboy thrust as he was given a stroke from the whip, then making noises behind his bit, he thrust again, lifting poor Eden’s separated feet from the ground.

He held her there as he gurgled and groaned behind his bit, then lowered her to the ground again.

Still inside her, he thrust again and again lifted her from the ground.

She screamed behind her bit as he lowered her only to thrust again.

The stable girl moved behind him, her crop at the ready and as he lowered Eden to the ground, she struck across his buttocks causing him to thrust again and again into the terrorised ponygirl.

Eden by this time was screaming through her bit, her head thrusting all over the place but held firm by the stable girl at her head.

I was watching avidly and recalling my own rape and remembering how at first I had hated it, then how I had enjoyed it.

I looked around, rather guilty at my thoughts and saw that Firestorm was still watching me and ignoring the scene before us. I blushed even deeper, knowing that she knew what I was thinking.

Then it was all over.

The ponyboy was dragged off her, making all sorts of animal noises in his face harness, pulling against his captors as he tried to re-enter poor Eden.

Using their crops, the stable girls finally forced him back to his sulky where he was re-harnessed to it.

The stable girl slapped the reins hard across his striped shoulders. “Trot on, Titan, trot on” and backed up her order with a sharp flick of her whip across his thigh.

He uttered an almost animal like scream behind his mask as he started to move, pulling for all he was worth, out of the yard and out of my sight.

Eden, head hanging low, crying and sobbing at her ordeal, was left where she was, as we were led back to the stables and harnessed for work.

That day, we all worked in the fields and woods driven by the peasants and given almost no rest at all as we toiled at their instructions.

That evening, we were all exhausted and very much ‘down’ as we were led to the showers.

Back in our loosebox, Firestorm and I had stripped naked, not sure which of our harnesses to wear for the evening meeting in the stable.

Suddenly, I felt her hand on my bottom, sliding down and between my thighs.

Her other hand held me by my wrist as I turned towards her, mouth open to say something.

Her lips closed over mine as her hand thrust between my thighs and I bent my knees slightly opening the way to my vagina.

My eyes closed, I relived Eden’s rape as my lover kissed and caressed me before slowly guiding me to a bed onto which she lowered me as her lips slid from my mouth to my throat and downwards over my breasts and stomach to my by now wet sex.

As she brought me to a climax, she whispered, her lips pressing against my vagina, “You are mine and mine alone”. I knew I was.

We did not go to the evening meeting that night but cuddled against each other kissing and licking each other until finally we fell asleep, the realisation that that bastard Rex, now Titan was also here.

I resolved to tell a stable girl the following morning.

Actually, it was Mark in whom I confided and he listened with interest, saying nothing.

Two days later, as he was harnessing me, he told me Titan’s story.

Apparently, he had met a woman in a cocktail lounge in London and had at the same time

tried to become acquainted with another woman who was an Association Member.

His first date had realised what he was doing and slapped his face in front of several other women in the lounge at the time before storming out in high dudgeon.

The Member comforted him until his ego was restored, then invited him to her apartment for drinks.

Rex could never turn down an invitation like that, I thought.

The upshot was that darling Rex got more than he bargained for when his new girlfriend slipped him a Mickey Finn.

Two days later, he was led on a lead attached to his sex organ, on his knees, head covered by a blinkered mask, from the Association plane which had used a small private landing strip miles away from the main airport.

His eventual destination, according to Mark was the Association owned island called Staneholme, where he was to be employed as a slave.

In the meantime, the new Owner thought it would be interesting to see how he performed as a ponyboy.

I saw him several times over a period of months in harness, being driven or on a lunge rein being exercised. Always with full-face pony masks.

He always seemed to have been cropped, showing slash marks on most of his bare body.

Even though my situation was not the one I would have preferred, I got a lot of satisfaction in the knowledge that he was no longer in London living of other women.

Eventually, he was used to serve another ponygirl, before being moved to the island of Staneholme, which the Associates owned as well.

Some time later, when my Owner took me there, I saw him again, still working in harness and instead of being used to serve us mares, he was allocated one of the male serf maids that were used as labour.

He was harnessed in a wide red waist corset, black chastity belt and full-length red boots with elbow length leather gloves linked to each other behind his body with a chain.

His head was encased in a black leather pony mask complete with a rather fetching red feather plume

Harnessed to a sulky, he trotted dutifully along at the behest of his driver.

He looked almost attractive.

He saw me and recognised me and tried to come across to me, but all that got him was a severe whipping from his driver.

I don’t know what happened to him, nor do I care.

Now, after three years as a ponygirl and being owned by a second Owner, I am quite happy with my life.

A year ago, I was asked if I would like to be the first woman ponygirl trainer, as Robert was leaving and it was thought by the Members Committee that I was good enough to fill the position.

I was interviewed by William who explained exactly what their duties were and I was given a week to decide.

I talked it over with Firestorm who told me that I would be stupid to turn such an offer down.

Actually, she got quite angry that I had not accepted it on the spot.

I weighed up the pros and cons every day, until I felt that I was going mad.

Each day, William asked me for my answer and each day Firestorm told me to go, take the job.

However, there is more to this life that I now have.

I like and enjoy my work most of the time.

I am fitter than I have ever been and certainly more shapely; all down to my lifestyle.

I have a loving relationship with my partner, Firestorm without any of the complications of a male partner.

If I took the post, I would lose Firestorm and possibly have to replace her with, who? A stable girl! No thank you.

Unlike ordinary people I have no daily worries.

I do not have to plan my days anymore.

There are now fourteen of us in the Home Farm stables and we do have a good social life together, for if we argue or quarrel, there is the crop and the whip as well as other punishments.

I am adequately well fed, watered and stabled.

My Owner loves me and treats me as a pet more than anything else.

I have new harnesses and shooves when my Owner decides I need them and I consider myself one of the better harnessed ponies.

I am Pony Pampered on a monthly basis and have the best medical attention free.

I do as I am told and go where I am led or driven.

I am allowed girlie clothes, from time to time although even then I must wear some ponygirl harness, and my own make-up all the time, all of which is provided at my request.

Never did I imagine that I would get to love and embrace being a ponygirl, but that is how it is.

I can never imagine dressing daily as anything other than what and who I am : - PONYGIRL NYTEFLYTE