Every day at the farm begins the same way.

I was wakened as usual at seven o’clock and had fifteen minutes to brush my teeth and go to the bathroom. Then I waited at the gate until my mistress arrived. My team assembled behind me and we waited silently until Mistress Eve showed up. She unlocked the gate and we walked to the wash room. I positioned myself between two posts, spread my feet and raised my arms. Mistress Eve tied my wrists to the posts then did the same to my ankles. I waited while she tied all four of us, then she lugged out a bucket of warm soapy water and washed us. Mistress Eve is considerate and washes our faces gently with a soft cloth, but the rest of our bodies get scrubbed with a fairly stiff brush. The brush doesn’t hurt our skin, in fact, its just the correct firmness to drive us wild when she scrubs our pussies; and believe me, she scrubs them diligently. We’ve all been know to have orgasms from that brush, and since I’m her favorite, Mistress Eve usually makes sure that I have one every day. She’s so sweet.

After we’ve been washed and rinsed we get a nice brisk rub down with towels, and that’s also been known to cause a pony girl to giggle and gasp and moan with an orgasm or two.

When we are dry Mistress Eve buckles us into harness. She uses stiff leather collars and thick belly bands around our waists. I like to wear a stiff halter but sometimes she uses lighter, more flexible ones. I prefer the stiff halter because it doesn’t slip on my face when she tugs on the reins, and I hate rubber bits, they taste awful, give me steel anytime.

Depending on her mood we might get vibrators up our pussies or our bottoms, or both, but sometimes we merely get a stiff leather belt between our legs. We never know from day to day what she might use as pussy straps. Sometimes they vary from thin ones that are mere thongs to horrid rough straps three inches wide. Some of them are actually lined with a rough material that irritates our pussies. We call them scratchy belts. I don’t know what that material is but it gets rougher when its wet. Most of us are wet by the time she finishes buckling them on and they stay wet all day. We have lots of orgasms but after eight or ten hours even the most masochistic pony girl is usually glad to get out of one of those awful things.

A few years back they tried some rubber pussy belts lined with hard little knobs. They were intended to be mildly painful and keep us focused but the effect was not what the mistresses wanted. The belts made us come about every ten steps or so. It was impossible to get any work done when the pony girls kept collapsing helplessly into giggling, gasping orgasms every few minutes. They had to take them off of us after half a day. The belts disappeared and rumor has it that a few of the mistresses tried them on and decided to keep them for their personal use.

Mistress Eve even makes us wear metal chastity belts sometimes. The chastity belts are very sexy, they feel like a strong hand gripping our crotches, but they don’t have any give in them and by the end of the day they can be very uncomfortable. We’ve never been able to decide which is worse, chastity or scratchy.

This particular day we got the works; pussy and rectal vibrators and scratchy belts. My nipples were hard as soon as she ordered me to bend forward and I squeaked like a little girl when she slid the first one inside my body. I was breathing hard after the second insertion and nearly came again when she tightened the pussy belt.

Mistress Eve chuckled when she saw the look on my face and she tweaked my nipples until I was gasping with pleasure. She brought me close to coming then stopped and slipped my work bra on. She tugged the buckles tight, then knelt, untied my ankles and replaced the ropes with leather cuffs. I lifted my feet one at a time so she could slip the work shoes on, then stood patiently while she buckled the cuffs to my wrists and upper arms and looped my bit and reins around my neck.

I stared out the door while she worked down the line harnessing the rest of my team. I fought the desire to look when I heard Number Three gasp, then groan in orgasm. I’ve heard number three come often enough to recognize her orgasm groans from ordinary ones. I wanted to look but we are forbidden to turn our heads while in harness.

Mistress Eve untied our wrists and marshaled us into line. She locked our hands behind our backs, then clipped a four way leash to our collars and led us to the feeding room. She put us at our table and unlocked our wrists. (It seemed a little silly locking then unlocking them for a trip of only a few feet, but rules are rules and ponies don’t move an inch without restraint.)

We ate breakfast standing. We ate quickly and quietly, talking is forbidden, then mistress Eve relocked our wrists, put our bits in our mouths and led us outside. We stood patiently while Mistress Jane discussed the day’s assignment with Mistress Eve. Mistress Jane is the field supervisor and I heard her tell Mistress Eve that we would be plowing today. My nipples perked up at that, so did the other ponies. We like pulling a plow.

Being a farm pony means we have a lot of different chores, and while pulling a plow all day in the sun might not sound thrilling to most women, to us it is the purest form of pony slavery. The only thing we like more than plowing is pulling a wagon because more people will see us.

Mistress Eve led us to the machinery barn and hooked us to the plow two by two. She hopped into the seat, snapped the reins and I moved forward. The others moved in unison with me.

We walked along the dirt road enjoying the day. The morning was pretty, the sun was warm and I was happy. At the wheat field Mistress Eve lowered all four blades of the plow. She snapped the reins on my shoulders and I stepped forward. The ground was hard and we couldn’t pull all four-plow shares. We tried, we dug in our feet and leaned against the traces but we could make little progress. We struggled and huffed and strained but it was just no good. I saw that Number Two was stumbling so I stopped and straightened up. As I expected that earned me a snap of the whip across my shoulders, but I waited until all the girls were in line again, then I leaned forward. We made a few yards progress but it was so hard that I knew we just weren’t going to make it. I stopped again. Mistress Eve gave me several more snaps with the whip, which I endured silently, and then I shook my head from side to side. She gave me a couple of more cuts, just to show who was boss, then climbed out of the seat and raised one of the plow blades.

This time the going was a little easier, but not enough and I knew that we would never make it through a whole day with that hard soil. I obediently tried for a few moments, and then stopped. I got about a dozen blows with the whip and my shoulders were stinging but Mistress Eve raised another blade. We set off and this time it was all right. We could plow the field just fine with only two blades in the dirt.

Another team showed up, two males this time, and they pulled the seed spreader behind us. The spreader is light and easy to pull and I was proud that we were doing the hard work while the males were only up to the light stuff.

To be fair, those boys were only part timers. They were spending their vacations at the farm and weren’t used to real pony life, nevertheless, we girls felt superior. The males were far enough behind us that we faced them after every turn, so we got a good look at them. I set a steady pace and we worked with the efficiency of long practice. The males stumbled from time to time and their mistress used the whip to keep them moving. Both males were cute and one must have been a true masochist because his cock got harder every time the whip hit him. That set us to giggling.

Mistress Eve heard our giggles and snapped her whip over each of our shoulders one by one and cracked the end on our breasts. Number Two, squealed which earned us all another couple of blows, and Number Three, who is our worst masochist, almost had an orgasm. Mistress Eve doesn’t care if we have orgasms but woe to that girl if she stumbles and throws the team off rhythm. Luckily, Number Three managed to control herself.

We were given a short water break after the first hour and a fifteen-minute break at mid morning. Mistress Eve parked us under a shade tree, gave us water and a snack, and then chatted with the other mistress. We looked at the male slaves while they stared back at us. We aren’t allowed to entice the males, but it’s amazing what a pony girl can do by barely moving her body. The males’ cocks were nice and hard as they watched us. We don’t have tails of course, but we have all learned the art of shaking our breasts while twitching away insects. We kept a wary eye on the mistresses while every few seconds one of us jerked. Number Three grew very bold and began to sway slightly. She became more and more daring until Mistress Eve gave her a long look. Number Three froze and tried to look innocent but I made eye contact with Mistress Eve. From the look on her face I knew that Number Three, and possibly all four of us, was in for a good flogging after work.

We worked until noon, when the chuck wagon was brought to us. It was actually a modern food cart on two wheels designed to keep hot food hot and cold food cold, but we called it the chuck wagon anyway.

The chuck wagon is pulled by Gloria who is the first and foremost pony girl on the farm. Gloria is fifty-four years old and, and she is the reason the farm exists. She’s been a pony for twenty five years and she is still beautiful.

GLORIA AND THE FARM’S BEGINNING

Everything began in the eighties when the owner allowed her brother to bring a film crew to make a low budget porn film about pony girls. The brother was a loser who couldn’t keep a job. He wandered into the porn industry in Los Angeles and got a job as an assistant producer for low-grade porn films. They brought the crew to the farm because of the privacy available.

The farm sits in a small valley and there is only one road in. The country is beautiful and the hills around the farm are wooded and we are the only residents for several miles.

Gloria was one of the actresses and although she had made many bondage films, she’d never done anything as a pony girl. The instant they buckled her into harness she experienced a terrific sexual thrill. As the filming progressed she fell in love with the role. She said that she felt that she belonged there. She kept her harness on at all times and even asked them to keep her in restraint between takes.

The crew got in the habit of tying her to a tree or a hitching post when she wasn’t busy, and she loved it. She says that waiting in harness for long periods of time kept her very excited. (She added that the occasional pat on her bottom or pinch on her breasts by passing crew members helped too). The owner of the farm, whose name was Dina, watched the filming and was curious about pony play. She and Gloria talked a lot and Gloria tried to explain the delight she got from wearing harness. Dina invited Gloria to stay after filming was complete and the two of them experimented with pony play. Dina made Gloria’s first real set of harness and rumor has it that Dina actually wore harness herself a few times, but anyone who knew Dina doesn’t set much store in that tale. Dina was a strong self-reliant woman who had already divorced two worthless husbands. She managed the farm by herself and did quite well. The idea of her in harness is unthinkable (but incredibly erotic).

After the first visit Gloria visited the farm regularly and she and Dina became friends then lovers. Dina allowed Gloria to act out her fetish for pony play and along the way Dina discovered a dominant streak within herself. Eventually Gloria moved in permanently. She wanted to be more than just Dina’s live in lover so she offered to work for her keep. She began helping with the farm and one day, as a joke, Dina harnessed her to a cart and had her haul produce from the vegetable fields. Gloria was in a shirt and shorts and she loved pulling the cart. The next day Dina harnessed her in the nude and Gloria worked all day naked. She was so sexually aroused that at the end of the day she and Dina had the most fantastic sex in their lives. The next day Gloria asked Dina to let her pull the cart regularly.

Although she lived on the farm Gloria continued to model for bondage magazines and movies, and Dina made the farm available to photographers and movie producers. In fact, a lot of movies are still filmed here. During one of the movies they set up stalls for the pony girls to live in. They were a cross between horse stalls and prison cells and Gloria loved being in hers so after the movie she would beg Dina to lock her into it at times. Sometimes she spent the night in a stall.

Not surprisingly, a lot of the people in that business are in the fetish scene and when the word got out that Gloria was actually living as a pony girl some other women asked if they could play too. At first they stayed only on weekends but when Dina discovered that people would pay a lot of money to live out their fantasies she began hosting bondage and pony girl parties. She charged pony players to spend weekends and she put them to work. The pony girls and boys loved it and worked very hard. Astonishingly the farm profits increased. What started out as weekend fantasies turned real when a man asked to live here permanently. Dina didn’t think he would stay very long but she allowed him to sleep in a stall. But he was a serious masochist and wanted nothing more than to be worked in harness and punished as often as possible. He stayed for several years but eventually had to leave due to family pressures. After that more people begged to join Dina’s pony herd. I was the eighth person to come here on a permanent basis. Since then a lot of people have lived here as pony slaves. Some have left for one reason or another and some have stayed and I am second in seniority to Gloria.

When I first came I was paired with Gloria and she trained me, then we were used to train others.

We would be harnessed to them and act as the old hands to show the newcomers how to behave. The mistresses with their whips can only teach them so much. We’ve discovered that learning by watching the experienced ponies makes it easier on everyone. Over the years Gloria grew tired of training new ponies so she is given her choice of duties. She likes pulling the chuck wagon but doesn’t mind hard work and occasionally is teamed up to pull a plow. She said it still feels good to work up a good sweat. And even though she enjoys the most favored slave status, she still feels the sting of a mistress’s whip from time to time.

Eventually I also got tired of training new ponies so a few years ago we formed my permanent team. I’ve worked my girls into such a close knit and efficient team that I am allowed to stay with them. Only rarely do I have to train new ponies.

Over the years so many people came to the farm that Dina had to convert a real stable into living quarters. We live in little stable cells, which are simple but comfortable. Gloria usually slept in the house with Dina but after she died Gloria insisted on living in a cell. She was offered a more comfortable one but she wanted to live like the rest of the slaves.

Gloria is loved by everyone and even at her age she is fit and healthy and beautiful. Constant exercise and good diet keeps her (and all of us) in good shape. We eat only vegetables and fruit with very little meat. No sugar or junk food, although some mistresses carry chocolate to use as rewards. (Heavenly). Long hours of work and standing keeps our weight down and our bodies firm, and you should see our tans. I also personally believe that having several orgasms every day has a lot to do with staying happy and healthy.

We wear leatherwork bras to prevent premature sagging. They are half cups, which permit support but expose our breasts to allow for plenty of jiggling, and they provide no protection from the whip. Other than that we work naked except when we have our periods. Then we wear leather panties.

Gloria still works naked too and she still gets admiring looks from the males. She is very popular with male guests and she’s been purchased by men half her age. She can take a whipping with pure delight or screw a man out of his mind. Even the male ponies get erections looking at her and she’s sometimes given to a male pony as a reward for hard work. Males have been known to practically work themselves to death for the chance of an hour alone with Gloria.

When she arrived with the lunch cart we were unhitched from the plow and allowed to eat in the shade. Afterwards we were given an hour to relax and most of us took a nap. Then we were put back into bondage and resumed our work.

Too many ponies eventually became a problem so Mistress Dina settled on a compliment of twelve full time pony girls and six males. The number varies as ponies come and go and it doesn’t count temporary ponies.

We have people who come for a few days or a few weeks. We get weekenders who come on a regular basis and some people spend their vacations as pony slaves, so sometimes we might have up to thirty ponies at the farm.

Dina’s daughter Karen helped with the farm but the two of them couldn’t manage by themselves so they hired some help. At first they recruited professional dominas through the film industry but over the years a number of regular ladies have joined the staff too. In fact, most of the mistresses have never worked as professionals. Somehow the word gets out and every so often a woman shows up wanting to be a pony mistress. Not all are accepted and I have often wondered what the testing process is like.

Dina died several years ago and the farm passed to her daughter Karen.

Karen still shakes her head at how the place has grown. Before she died Dina had extended the original house to accommodate the added staff, but as more mistresses came to work here she built a second house. It was designed to match the original house and looks like a hundred year old Victorian with wide porches and comfortable rooms. Despite its homey appearance it’s actually an apartment building with twelve suites for staff and six suites for paying guests.

Besides Karen there are twelve full time mistresses, several part time mistresses, four cooks, a truck driver and an accountant.

We even have a female slave who is a mechanic.

The mechanic is a hard-bitten bitch named Paula. She used to build racecars. She has an abrasive personality and no one likes her very much, but she keeps the machinery working. She’s tough and defiant and makes the mistresses tame her. She can be a real challenge to a new mistress and snarls when she’s being whipped. But every time she is tortured she reaches a point when she suddenly seems to collapse inward and her defiance vanishes. She instantly transforms into a sobbing submissive little girl who begs for more. After she crosses that threshhold she can’t get enough pain and purrs like a kitten. Watching her take a whipping is a fantastic turn on.

We have a full time accountant who is not a slave, nor is she a mistress. She’s just a regular woman who never wears leather or whips a slave (but she has been known to take a pony boy to her room once in a while). The males never talk about what she does to them but they all seem to enjoy being picked by her.

The farm needs an accountant because we make a lot of money from farming and a lot more from slavery. Aside from charging fees from part time ponies, Karen rents us out to photographers, moviemakers and guests. Since all pony boys and girls are exhibitionists posing for pictures and acting in movies is a delight, but at first some had reservations about being sold for sex. One girl decided that it was prostitution and had the audacity to complain to Karen. She shut up after Karen had her strung up by her wrists and flogged. Karen had us all watch and when the girl had been reduced to a quivering mass of weeping flesh she asked if anyone else wanted to complain. No one said a thing. Karen explained that she didn’t keep the money the guests paid. She put it into our personal retirement accounts, but since she was collecting money for our services she conceded that it could be argued that technically it was a form of prostitution, and if any pony wanted to leave she would let him or her out of their commitment.

She got no takers. Even the girl who’d been whipped didn’t want to leave.

Personally, I don’t care who is using me, I like the sex and submission, and being sold to a stranger is very erotic, especially when I’m paraded in front of guests and sold at auction. I adore watching people look at me while they are bidding for me. And I’m lucky that I’m bi sexual, because some of the straight women don’t enjoy being sold to lesbians. The same goes for the pony boys. Only a few of them are gay but that makes no difference. If one of our male slaves is purchased by a gentleman he must do what he is told. Like it or not.

It’s tougher on straight male ponies. They like submitting to mistresses but not men, so to remind them of their status and to keep them obedient the mistresses regularly make them suck each other’s cocks while we watch. It’s very erotic for us and interestingly we notice that some of the male ponies learn to enjoy it after a while.

ENTERTAINING THE GUESTS

We plowed three acres that day, and then Mistress Eve drove us back to the barn. It was early and we could have gotten in more work but knocking off early told us that we were in for a sexy evening. (When Mistress Karen plans to use us at night she makes sure that we get back in time to rest up. She doesn’t like having a slave girl doze off while eating a guest’s pussy). We wondered what was in store for us.

Back at the barn we were unharnessed and tied between posts at the washroom. This time other mistresses helped wash us and we were scrubbed until our skin glowed. They even shampooed our hair. Mistress Eve allows our team to have long hair, unlike some others who must wear theirs short. Our hair is long enough to form into ponytails. It was heavenly to have our hair washed and dried by the mistresses. They were in a playful mood so we had our pussies caressed and our nipples tweaked. They weren’t being nice; they were getting us worked up for the evening. They brought us close but wouldn’t allow us to come, and we were forbidden to touch each other or ourselves.

After being washed we were fed dinner and allowed to rest in our stalls. At six o’clock mistress Eve and three others arrived and began our preparations. We were strapped into chairs while they did up our hair and applied makeup. They sprinkled body glitter on our skin and rouged our nipples. It felt nice to be feminized again.

After makeup we were put into show harness. My nipples were already hard but I couldn’t suppress a gasp of delight when I saw our new outfits.

The new costumes were blue, silver and gray and must have been designed in Las Vegas. Instead of belts we wore gray corsets trimmed in blue and silver. They squeezed our waists but left our breasts fully exposed. The corsets had suspenders that held up silver stockings and we stepped into blue pony shoes with very high arches. They even had silver spurs. Gray collars trimmed in blue and long blue opera gloves came next followed by silver Roman helmets crowned with towering blue and gray plumes. We even wore new silver bits in our mouths, and the reins were blue with gray tassels. The finale was silver bells clipped to our nipples.

When they finished dressing us the mistresses lined us up in front of the big mirror. We looked fabulous! Mistress Eve brought out a camera and shot a couple of rolls of film, and then they strapped our arms up behind our backs and marched us to the main house. Mistress Eve tied us to the hitching rail. She produced four pair of silver panties but didn’t put them on us; instead she tucked them into the tops of our corsets. If she had put them on right then they would be soaked in minutes.

We waited for a long time and attracted a lot of attention from the staff. People walking by would stop and stare. One mistress even joked that she wouldn’t mind being a slave if she could dress like us. I took a great risk; I looked her in the eye and shook my boobs. She didn’t punish me, in fact, she even winked at me.

We heard cars arrive and listened while Mistress Karen greeted some guests. Then she took them to the patio where they were to have dinner. Mistress Eve came back wearing a dressy mistress outfit; shiny leather micro skirt and bra, knee boots complete with spurs, and a jeweled whip. She knelt, unclipped our ankles then slipped our panties on. She released us from the rail and led us around the house. We marched proudly, with our chins high, thrusting our breasts out and lifting our knees.

The guests were standing around having cocktails and chatting with the mistresses. The conversation stopped when we came into view.

Mistress Karen introduced Mistress Eve and gave a quick talk about how we were the number one pony team on the farm. She told them that we were lifetime pony girls and were trained in both field labor and dressage. She stepped back and nodded to Mistress Eve. Mistress Eve spoke quietly.

“Dressage number two.”

She walked away and I counted her steps. At eight I tossed my head and we began the routine. Dressage number two is a twenty-minute precision performance where we act more like show girls than pony slaves. It’s like dancing but its fun and it’s a terrific way to show off our bodies.

We marched line abreast, turned spin wheel left, then right, high stepped backward, side to side, trotted in place, then froze, started again on a silent count and marched some more. We’ve rehearsed our dressage routines for years and can do them in our sleep, but its still thrilling to watch people watch us. We maintain our china doll expressions, eyes wide staring straight ahead. As we pranced and danced Mistress Eve reached out and snatched Number Four’s panties off. They were breakaways and didn’t cause her to miss a beat. The guests gasped, then applauded. As the routine progressed Mistress Eve ripped each girl’s panties one by one until only I was left. That was my privilege as team lead and it meant that everyone was watching my crotch waiting for my pussy to come into view. They cheered when Mistress Eve yanked my panties off, and my nipples got just a little bit harder.

We finished the routine and stood in line facing the guests. Number Two was breathing hard and her breasts heaved.

“What is the matter with you?” I asked without moving my lips. (Being a pony slave teaches one how to talk like a ventriloquist and we have even learned to communicate with our mouths filled with bits. Over the years we’ve developed a new form of language that only pony girls can understand). We were in such excellent condition that we could perform the routine at a dead run and not break a sweat. Number two should not have been breathing hard.

“She just wants to make her boobs jiggle,” Number Four said softly.

“Um hmm,” added Number Three. She began breathing hard too.

“Oh, what the hell,” I thought. I started breathing like I was winded. I even made my nipple bells jingle. Mistress Eve wasn’t fooled. She shot me a warning look, which I pretended not to see. She smiled wickedly and I knew we were in for a flogging later. At the moment I was turned on and the idea of being whipped sounded rather nice.

Mistress Eve chained us to individual posts while the guests were served dinner. We stood patiently while they ate. They tried to carry on as if eating with naked pony girls nearby was normal, but most of the time they were looking at us.

I passed the time by trying to guess who the people were. There were four well-dressed couples. Several were clearly married, two were ladies who were probably lesbians and another was a young man with an older lady.

The lady reminded me of Audrey Hepburn. She was tall and slender and carried herself with a natural grace that was almost aristocratic. She was simply but elegantly dressed. She looked at us with frank curiosity and after the meal walked to us and examined each of us intently. She paused in front of me and looked carefully into my eyes.

“How long have you been doing this?” she asked. Mistress Eve removed my bit and motioned for me to answer.

“Seventeen years, Lady.” I replied.

She looked surprised. She studied my face and body for a moment, then leaned close. “How old are you?”

“Forty, my Lady.”

“I’m impressed,” she said. “You don’t look it.”

I bowed.

“And you do everything that you are told?” she asked.

“Yes Lady.”

“You never find yourself doing something that you dislike?”

“Sometimes, Lady.”

“But you do it anyway.”

“Yes.”

She frowned. “You don’t have any choices in what they do to you?”

“I have only one choice,” I said. “I have the choice to ask to leave.”

“Have you ever considered leaving?”

“No Lady. I am very happy here. This is where I belong.”

“And you wish to stay here forever?”

“Yes Lady.”

She turned to number Two who bowed her head slowly and deeply. Three and Four followed.

“Very interesting,” she said almost to herself.

The young man wandered over. “Well Mom, what do you think?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “All right, lets proceed.”

They returned to the table and spoke to Mistress Karen. The man produced a checkbook and wrote out a check. This was different from the usual times when we were rented to guests for an evening or a weekend. I felt a pang of fear wondering if we had been sold permanently. The lady disappeared and Mistress Karen and the man talked quietly.

The guests were served coffee as the light faded and the patio lights came on. I was getting bored chained to my post and wished they would either get on with screwing us or let us go back to the stable when I heard Number Two gasp.

Two mistresses appeared leading the elegant lady in pony costume. My eyes widened at the vision of that lovely woman in simple black harness. She wore panties and a bra, stockings, garter belt and heels, but was strapped tightly into black patent leather. Her arms were laced into a single glove and she wore a very high collar and a chrome snaffle bit. She followed the mistresses on a long leash and even in harness carried herself with the grace of a ballerina. She blushed when the other guests stared, but her nipples were poking forward under her bra.

“Oh my God,” Number Three whispered. “You can team me with her any day of the week.”

“Me too,” muttered Number Four. I silently agreed with them. (Even though new females know in advance that they must submit to women, some still have to be broken to the act. One of the methods used to break down a new pony’s inhibitions is to force her to lick other pussies. Sometimes the new girl is tied for hours face to crotch with another female. I would have loved to get my mouth in that lady’s pussy.)

The Mistresses led the woman (whom I call Audrey, even though that isn’t her real name) through the guests’ tables. At first the guests were taken aback, but one of the men patted her on the bottom, and another squeezed her breast. Soon they were all fondling her, especially the two lesbians. Even her son patted her jokingly on her bottom. Audrey bore this all with dignity and a bright pink face. After she had been fondled, poked and caressed she was led away to the stables. The guest turned their attention to us and the bidding began.

Number Two was sold first, because of her big breasts, but I was chosen next. Three and Four were sold and a couple of other pony girls were brought out to make sure that no guests went without.

I was sold to one of the lesbians and followed her to her room. Inside she stripped me naked and tied me flat on the bed. She undressed and explored my body with her fingers and tongue, and then she straddled my face and lowered herself onto my mouth. I spent most of the night licking her pussy, although she did return the favor twice, but that was all she wanted. The night was pleasant enough but uninspiring.

We didn’t get much sleep and she didn’t wake up when Mistress Eve tiptoed in the next morning to get me. I was bleary eyed and grumpy and let Mistress Eve know that I wasn’t in a good mood. Bad mistake, because that reminded her of the team’s infraction last night, (pretending to be out of breath so we could jiggle our boobs at the guests) so she strung me up by my wrists in the stable courtyard and gave me about fifty lashes with a flogger. Trust me that will wake you up!

The rest of the team was already in harness but Mistress Eve kept them waiting while she gave me an extra efficient wash down. She isn’t all bad, Mistress Eve, in fact, she fingered my pussy until I had a very sweet orgasm. Then I had breakfast and we were off to the fields.

As we marched past the training barn I saw Mistress Jean working with Audrey. Audrey was in rough training harness; heavy leather cuffs and belts, unpolished fittings and clunky shoes. She also wore an ugly face halter with blinders, a thick brow strap and a deep tongue depressing bit. The reins were pulled so tight that the corners of her mouth were stretched. That gear is designed to be uncomfortable to condition a new pony into her new status. It’s also used to punish disobedient older ponies. Everyone hates wearing those things.

Audrey stood at rigid attention and listened intently to Mistress Jean’s instructions. As we turned the corner I saw Mistress Jean hooking her to an old work cart.

I felt better as the day went by. My body stung from the flogging but the pain faded after a couple of hours. Pulling the plow was pleasant and the day was nice and we managed to tease the males without incurring the wrath of Mistress Eve.

During lunch we talked about our experiences the night before. Number Two smugly told us that the man and wife who had bought her took turns screwing her all night long and she pretended to complain about how sore her pussy was.

Number Three showed us angry red welts from an extended whipping on the insides of her thighs.

Number Four had also been bought by a married couple and told us how the wife had stripped her husband, put him into harness and made him and Number Four pretend to be a team.

“Is he thinking of becoming a pony boy?” I asked.

“Possibly. I got the feeling that they were testing the waters,” Four answered.

“Did you have sex?” Three asked.

“Yes, The wife made him watch me eat her pussy,” Four replied. “Several times.”

“Is that all?” Two asked.

“She made me kneel and press my face on the floor,” Four said. “Then she permitted him to screw me from behind. It was nice, he has a big cock.”

“They didn’t have sex?” I asked.

“Nope, and she made me and her husband sleep on the floor while she slept in the bed.”

“No spanking or whipping?” Two asked.

“None, the lady is into controlling her husband but I didn’t see any sadistic tendencies in her.”

“Lucky you,” I said. “I got one hell of a flogging this morning.”

“We saw,” Three said. “What did you do to deserve that?”

“WE were jiggling our boobs at the guests last night, remember?” I said. “I got punished for what you three did.”

“That’s what you get for being lead pony,” Four told me. “And besides, your boobs were jiggling too.”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure I saw you come while you were getting whipped,” Three said. “So don’t put on your martyr act with us.”

I jiggled my boobs at them.