The staff quarters at the Stables were plush, set out in an X fashion, the many windows looked out on to all the different parts of the yard. Master Lucian had finished up some medical records, done a snap inspection of the Pony stalls then wandered in to the dining hall. His Chief ‘breaker’ Miss Morgan was sat by the long bank of one-way glass which over looked the Schooling area, he took a plate of food from the server - run by house slaves - and made his way over. Miss Morgan greeted him, her eyes attentive to the yard, he returned the greeting and followed her gaze. The new pony was out there, she was stood idly looking round the area.

“Are we in range?” he asked casually, referring to the remote control in Miss Morgan’s hand.

“Oh, very much so” she smiled, and pressed a button. The pony out in the yard jumped visibly, and started forward.

Master Lucian chuckled “those eggs are the best thing we’ve bought in ages!” Miss Morgan nodded through a forkful of pasta “initial thoughts - will she be worth the money?”

The breaker still said nothing, she stared out the window at the filly, chewing and swallowing slowly, it did not do to give Master Lucian bad council. She herself was not above punishment, only last week he had forced her into harness for a gruelling 10 mile run for failing to secure the Stalls correctly one night, her jaw still ached from the large ball gag.

“She hardly showed any resistance this morning, that will come later no doubt. She’s moving more firmly in the boots now, but she’s very unfit. That will be a big hurdle.” she did not mention how wet the filly was, or how she’d caught her posing in her cell, after a week or two of fitness work, the filly would no doubt be too tired for such displays. Master Lucian merely nodded, he could see for himself from how unfit the girl was, not that she was fat, but compared to the ponies in the stalls she was ‘soft’ . out in the school the pony had picked up the pace a little, no doubt she had realised that the egg would reward exertion.

“Ponygirl Roe twisted an ankle this morning” Miss Morgan said “she was out in the team gig, doing the morning cross country run, and slipped on the ridge, she made it back to the stables without complaint, but her ankle had swollen so badly we had to cut the boot off.”

Master Lucian grunted with annoyance, he already knew of the incident - it was in the medical report - but had no idea she’d ruined her expensive boots, with one ruined it meant buying a new pair. Not that money was hard to come by, it was the point of the matter. “Put her on the punishment block.”

Miss Morgan looked up sharply, as if to contradict him - after all, the pony had shown remarkable courage, completing the run on her injured ankle. The ruined boot was an inconvenience, but punishment? “Yes morgan?” he asked sharply, daring her to voice her thoughts.

“Nothing Master Lucian” she mumbled. The Master rose to leave, his business concluded. “I’ll deal with Roe myself.” Miss Morgan hung her head, genuinely sorry for ponygirl Roe. Out in the school the filly was running much faster now, the remote in front of Miss Morgan showed that the egg was running at full power. Angry at the injustice of life she overrode the auto function of the egg and delivered a powerful jolt to the filly, out in the school the filly screamed, and came to an involuntary halt, crouched over trying to ease the pain of the shock. Satisfied at the girls obvious distress, not only from the pain of .. Well the pain.. But also from being denied release yet again. Some what appeased Miss Morgan summoned a house slave to take her dishes she returned to the school.

6. Posture, posture.

The girl stood panting in the school, her mind angry at the shock she’d received, one moment she’d been running in bliss, feeling almost free, then pain, the shock’s full force conducted by her body’s own fluids. Again she had been denied release. What did these people want? She stamped a hoof angrily, pleased by the horse-shoe shaped mark it left. There was a noise - the trainer woman was returning. The girl took a moment to take a good look at her, she was dressed smartly, in a tailored white shirt with a knotted scarf on her neck, she wore beige jeans which were reminiscent of jodhpurs, but not so tightly fitted, and most noticeably, long leather boots with tall spiked heels, raising her heels as high as the girl’s own. Her face was one of a woman who’d spent much time outdoors, pretty in a mature sort of way, but lines of pain etched their way across her skin, the only real evidence of any aging. She wore a fashionable belt, which doubled as a utility belt, from it several restraint devices hung, and in her hand she carried a polish hazel cane. She was looking at her.

“Filly” the breaker’s voice was stern. Miss Morgan strode up to the sweating filly, now she was exercised, lessons could be learned - burn off the energy, then enforce the discipline, it was a technique that had always worked well for her “you must learn how to stand” Miss Morgan unsnapped the bridle from the pony-walker and led her over to a high-line. A noose hung down, she slipped it round the filly’s neck, the girl trembled and whimpered, “nn .. “ she protested, two sharp smacks with Miss Morgan’s cane stopped her protests.

“No talking, filly - I do not wish to have to repeat lessons” she added a third crack of the cane right across the girls breasts, eliciting a garbled scream. “Now. Standing.” The breaker, hands gentle to balance the authority in her voice, she ran them over the filly’s quivering flesh, pushing her shoulders back. “See how your breasts jut out when you stand like this?” She fondled them for a moment, soothing the bright red mark from where only moments ago the cane had struck, she tweaked the filly’s nipples till they stood proud the girl nodded, her head hanging. She was aroused by the woman, between her legs she could feel a trickle running down the inside of her thigh, she squirmed, wishing the egg still inside her would come to life again. The trainer continued arranging her body into a provocative position, she pushed her bottom out, spread her legs slightly As the woman ran her hands down the girl’s thighs her thumb slipped on the girls wetness “dirty pony” she said in an amused tone.

When Miss Morgan was finished the filly was arranged into a taut bow shape, her tail stuck up jauntily from her ass, and her stiffened nipples jutted forward proudly. The woman stood back and assessed the girl frankly, she had good lines, not great, but with time and training she could make a nice pony. The filly still hung her head unattractively though. From her belt the woman produced a wide collar, which she fastened about the filly’s neck. “This is a posture collar. Do not expect to be taking it off any time soon” Miss Morgan said, as she fitted it snugly around the girl’s neck, padlocking it shut at the nape of her neck. The padlock was psychological, for with her arms bound behind her the girl could not have removed it herself anyhow.

The girl shivered, the sun had set below the wall-line and a shadow had crept around and covered her. The posture collar forced her to hold her head up, and she looked straight ahead. Miss Morgan shortened the slack on the noose. “Do not move - or the noose will tighten. I am going to bed now. If you are still in the position when I return you will be given water.” She did not say what would happen if she failed - new fillies rarely failed. The noose was not real, in the sense that if she fell it would tighten to a certain extent, then break, the girl would fall, and an alarm would sound alerting the trainers to her failure. “Oh,” she added as she strode away “the egg is set to random - just to help keep you awake!”

7. A Long Night.

The girl watched Miss Morgan leave with more than a little trepidation, the noose hung ‘loosely’ round her neck, that is to say she could feel its stiff fibres brushing itchily against her collar bones, but its very presence made her feel strangled. She set her mind to maintaining the position, hoping fervently that the breaker would return before morning, but in her heart she realised that she had been left for the night.

She gasped, surprised as the egg’s random timer fired, buzzing gently for a few moments, then went quiet. Her body mourned the exciting sensations even as they died away, her ass convulsing round her tail-plug involuntarily. The girl spent some time willing the egg to fire again, but shrieked - the egg fired a punishment burst, at, she hoped, nearly full setting. The jolt threw her, and the noose tightened, she tried to flail her arms, but restrained as they were behind her she couldn’t. She was lucky, and kept her balance. The girl sobbed, feelings of inadequacy and failure flooded over her, she would never survive the night. surely in the morning the man with the gentle manner would find her hanging, purple and bloated. She imagined struggling armlessly alone, dying out in this strange place with no one to care for her or mourn her. Thankfully the egg’s next random burst was of pleasure, and it lifted her spirits. She moaned, tears drying, as the vibrations demanded her whole attention. Unheedful of her situation - trussed naked in the open night’s air, she writhed under the control of the egg, she wriggled her hips trying to increase the sensation. The girl had been so close to coming so many times since arriving at the Stables, she was desperate for the release.

“Oh, oh, oh” she cried, hips bucking, she felt her release growing inside her ‘just a few more second’s’ she silently begged the device. It was not to be, the vibration turned to a few seconds of shock, then lay dormant. The girl screamed, as loud as she could, virtually howling at the now risen moon, venting her pent up energies in the only way still permitted her.

The night was still for a long while, perhaps an hour or two, the girl’s egg lay dormant - perhaps the batteries had died she thought - and her attentions turned inexorably to her aches and pains. Her arms were numb, in fact they had been for some time, but her calves, back and shoulders are agony. The day was talking it’s toll on the girl. But, she guessed , that was her captor’s intent. She found the walls of the school oddly comforting, they were high enough to prevent intruders, and although her back was turned to the School’s entrance, the mirrored wall offered her a dimly reflected view behind her. It was so very still, out there in the night, and in the stillness there seemed to be life, it life of the universe. She knew the stars shone down on her, and the moon too, though it was to high now for her to look at it - perhaps dawn would come soon. Her feet took turns in being excruciating, and being numb. She cherished the pain, as it drew her attention away from her other aches and pains.

The egg fired a few more times in the night, but now she was bone tired, its hardest vibrations served only to rouse her from a stupor, and its shocks elicited only whimpers. Several times she thought she sensed movement behind her, or whispers, once she heard a girlish giggle, but always she could see nothing and attributed it to tricks of the mind. How long had she gone now with out water? Or food? Certainly twelve or more hours. Her bowels were full, and they too hurt the girl. In a perverse way she was glad for the tail-plug, s it kept her from soiling herself.

The night drew slowly onwards, and the girl began to dose, almost asleep on her feet. Her body kept its unforgiving stance despite her mind’s fatigue. Several times she wobbled, drifting off into sleep, but, as the first hint of purple tinged the eastern horizon (she realised now that she had been intentionally faced towards the dawn precisely for this reason) she knew that dawn was near, it gave her the courage, and will to make it through. She mustered the last of her strength and stood picture perfect against the dawn, as the first rays of sun struck her sky-ward thrust breasts she smiled. Proud.

8. Roe’s Reward.

Master Lucian smiled broadly as he opened the door to the cell which held ponygirl Roe. She was naked, stripped of all but a basic collar, a clear sign of displeasure from the Master. She was huddled in the corner, on the floor mattress.

The punishment cells at The Stables were painted in a cheery cream colour, with matching firm mattress. Normally they held no other furniture, the starkness of the cell a symbol of the punishment to come- no distractions. There was a grill and drain in one corner for the pony girl tenant to relieve herself- for punished ponies were stripped of their tails also.

Ponygirl Roe looked up as the Master entered, she smiled, a fake smile, but through years of practice it looked genuine - she knew where she was, and what would happen. It would not help her cause to look unhappy, or anything less than pleased to see Master Lucian. He was not a man to be trifled with. Her eyes darted to the only other piece of furniture in the room, and just as quickly flicked back to the Master, hoping she had hidden her fear. Master Lucian’s smile grew, he could smell Roe’s fear.

“How are you Roe?” he asked off-handedly, sitting on the backs of his heels in front of her. He reached out and stroked the thigh of her injured leg. She tried not to flinch away from this tender touch, but he felt her tension. He stroked her gently, in force of habit Roe clasped her hands behind her - she had been a pony for so long that it now felt more natural to have them like this. Roe was breathing deeply, her fear making her damp between the legs. Master Lucian knew Roe well, the ponygirl had been with the stables along time, she had worked hard, and done him proud at many events. He sighed, disappointedly, she was starting to age. Mistakes in her work were creeping in. but Roe was no Miss Morgan, she would never make a trainer. A stable hand perhaps, but Roe was too much a ponygirl. What other life could she live?

Roe saw none of his concerns in his face, to her, her Master just smiled and slowly caressed her. She did not answer his question right away, the indignity of talking human to a Master was enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Do you know why you are here Roe?” he continued softly. Roe’s eyes welled with tears, one escaped her eyes, rolled down her cheek and spilled onto her breast. Tenderly Master Lucian wiped it off, pinching the nearby nipple until it firmed. Roe always had beautiful breasts, age had taken a little of the spring out, but it was barely noticeable.

“Come Roe, I have other duties to attend to.”

Roe nodded, and crawled to the other piece of furniture in her cell, wincing as pain shot through her injured ankle. It was a pillory, she sat in the apparatus, her bottom on the cold floor. She locked her first hand into the pillory at ground height behind her, and just positioned the other hand in place. Master Lucian, still touching her, locked her hand in for her, then knelt in front of her. The pony girl was nearly crying, she spoke, a shamed whisper “please, Master” she begged, Roe’s expressive soulful eyes begging for mercy. For an answer Master Lucian held out his hand for her foot. He did not have to wait more than a second or two before Roe extended a trembling leg. Her feet were still pretty despite the years in hoof boots. He caressed the injured ankle, testing the damage in the manner of a doctor or nurse, it was swollen, and looked genuinely painful. Miss Morgan was right, it was amazing she had made the run home on it, Roe was a fine pony indeed. He smiled up at her again, her lower lip was quivering. Gently he locked the foot in place, then her other foot.

Once in the pillory the ponygirl was facing him, back arched to thrust out her breasts, her legs were spread enough for him to see the slickness of her sex, and the soles of her feet were elevated towards him, and a convenient angle. He spoke no further words. Picking up a thin cane he began the pony’s punishment. Her screams echoed down the punishment block, and carried out to the Stables, where the other pony’s were relaxing. An hour later all went quiet, as Roe’s mouth was filled with Master Lucian’s cock, a reward for her due punishment.