It was The Tradition of the hillfolks, any woman not married by nineteen would meet another fate.

Katie was the haughtiest, prettiest girl in the county and she knew it. All the boys, and even the menfolk, fluttered around her most of her teenaged life, trying to curry her favor.

Naturally, Katie let this get to her head, she became very choosy, thinking she was too good for anyone in the county. Her fame would surely bring some rich city men to court her and to whisk her away in a fancy carriage.

The foolish girl miscalculated, and the day of her nineteenth birthday arrived. By then all the menfolk were beyond fed up with her antics, delighted to turn to The Tradition. Katie was rudely awakened, dragged from her bed to the village square, and stipped naked. Then her pussy was shaved publicly, to show she lost the badge of free women.

It was only when she was led to barn, and locked in a stall, her new home, that Katie realized she had waited too long. By then it was too late.

Threatened, morose, and fearful, she spent the rest of the morning practicing her high-step, awaiting the blacksmith. Her lovely blond pigtails would soon be cut and fashioned into a pair of butt-plug ponytails of her own. The smithie would make certain that the burnt on brand of the county would adorn her left flank. He'd ring her nose and nipples. And then she would would be shod in leather - a single-glove for her arms and thigh-high heel-less leather boots for her legs.

It was The Tradition of the hillfolks. The no-longer haughty one would serve one and all for life, bitted and bridled, as Katie, plow ponygirl of the county.



© SirJeff, May 2005