Over the following days and weeks, Samantha found herself being put through a myriad of training courses. Eventually, she no longer even consciously thought about her actions, doing whatever was commanded habitually without compunction or reservation. The thought occurred occasionally to her that she was being transformed, but she could no longer alter the course of her life. Blindly she followed her training just as so many unfortunates had followed training under her singularly pitiless direction.
Her hair was kept shaven, and I finally decided to have it chemically treated to eliminate the need for repeated use of the razor. I had her breasts enlarged further, to an astonishing degree, by a local plastic surgeon known for his discretion. Pendulously swinging below her body, they bounced against each other with every step. It had to be killing her back, by again pity was not an emotion I had for her.
Her training was relentless. Every morning just before sunrise she was awakened, and training went on all day long until just after sunset. Within weeks her muscles were toned and trim, and the only excess body fat was at her bustline. Her original intense nature and sharp concentration were replaced with the dullard expression of someone trapped in a nightmare they realized they could never awaken from.
Her long lovely locks of hair were treated and fashioned into a long pony tail, then attached to a butt plug that replaced the original. The new plug was longer and of wider girth than the first, and she experienced fresh discomfort as she began to wear it permanently on a day to day basis. It’s also a different design than a regular plug. It’s hollow, with a small flapper device inside it. Once in position, bodily functions can continue, yet it will still appear as if the pony tail is growing out of her ass cheeks. Additionally, she can’t control whether she passes bile or not, as the flapper device works on pressure. Once the pressure has increased enough within her colon, it releases and allows her to relieve herself whether she intends to at that moment or not. The end result is that, much like a real pony, she passes waste at any time and any place, without the ability to stop herself.
In the back of her mind, she knew that every day brought her closer to her fate, but at some point she was shocked to realize she did not care anymore. She had lost everything over a stupid moment of mis-judgement, and knew that no pony girl had ever escaped or was ever voluntarily released from bondage. She was also very much aware of how she herself had disposed of her own livestock when she no was no longer amused by them. This was her permanent status in life and she had better get used to it. Even if she became suicidal from the ordeal and trauma, she was powerless to effect such a desire. She once tried to starve herself, only to find the stable boys forcing a tube down her throat for three days. She would have resumed eating by the second day, due to the gruel being so distasteful, but the stable boys seemed to take pleasure even in this act of subjugation.
Medication was administered freely, causing her to remain lubricated constantly. Her thighs were never dry anymore as she felt her juices drip down, displaying her aroused state for all to see in a most humiliating fashion.
Finally, her will was broken and she simply did as directed. She learned to stand still and cooperate when pony tail was removed and she was taken from behind, and began to understand that the rings at her vagina were intended not only to keep the stable boys from using her in that way, but also to reinforce in her mind that she would never again be allowed to enjoy sex as she had known it. The weight and jangle of the metal at her cunt was a constant reminder and a constant titilation. She found that if she set her gait just right, she could attain a certain level of excitation, but never enough to quite cause an orgasm. She once came close, but the trainer realized what was happening and immediately changed her gait, then had her resume it again repeatedly, always taking her to the edge but never letting her quite get over it. At the end of the day, she again found herself in the stall alone, aching for release but unable to gain it as she thrashed about unashamedly on her back, her legs thrown wide as she tried to use the swinging movement of the nefarious lock for some sort of satisfaction.
She never succeeded in attaining it, even as the stable hands watched and laughed from the walls of the stall.
After weeks of enduring such a strict training regimen, we decide she and the other livestock are ready for sale. The buyers were all pre-qualified, and tightly screened. This is the largest sale of pony girl flesh in years, and inquiries to participate arrive constantly. Nobody wants to miss this opportunity, yet we don’t want to take any chances. We would not even be having such an event were it not for carelessness and stupidity.
The auction is to take place inside Walter’s large cavernous indoor arena. An oval shaped ring is set up inside, and banked seating lines the inside walls of the building. The night is early yet, and already the seating is filled to capacity. A wooden stage is set up in the center of the ring to allow for closer inspections of the merchandise.
I stand at the side entrance, observing the few late comers straggling in. Walter approaches and takes a position next to me, arms crossed. “Looks like an excellent turnout this evening. We should do quite well.”
“I agree. Samantha will be the hit of the evening. We should easily recoup our investment with this lot. Is the bidding ready to start yet?”
“Yes, I was about to begin, so if there is nothing else…”
“No, I leave it to your capable hands as always. Let’s get this thing started. People will talk about this auction for years!”
Grinning, Walter leaves my side and proceeds to one end of the arena where he retrieves a microphone. Seconds later he’s in the center of the ring announcing that the bidding is about to start.
“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight we have a special event prepared for your entertainment pleasure. We have acquired a rather large lot of merchandise, and all of it will be disposed of before these proceedings are terminated, no matter the hour. You will be bidding on a selection of female stock, with various degrees of training, all specially selected by myself, your host for the evening. If you have not registered to join the bidding yet, please do so now. No non-reregistered bidders will be allowed to join the bidding this evening. Bidding will begin in fifteen minutes.” With a flourish of his hand to the crowd, Walter turns and leaves the ring, walking towards the opposite end of the building.
Without seeing it directly, I know that the stable hands are making final preparations for the auction. The stock is being washed down and groomed to perfection, in order to bring the very best price. Bits and bridles are being adjusted and polished, proper posture reinforced, and any visible blemishes minimized. Hair is coifed dramatically high on the head to accentuate the neck, and blood red lipstick is being applied around the bits carefully tucked into their mouths. Arm binders are cinched especially tight tonight, and any infraction of the gait they had been trained to maintain will be addressed quickly, discreetly, and painfully.
Turning away from the ring, I make my way to the impromptu VIP box Walter has set up at the midpoint of the building. Only the most privileged of society are able to afford a luxury such as a pony girl, and of that privileged class, only the very upper crust are allowed a seat in the box. I definitely intended to take advantage of the contacts my position in the box will allow.
Scooping up a glass of champagne as I enter the box, I casually saunter over to my reserved seat and make myself comfortable. Seated at the next table are Joe and Scarlett, and just to the other side is Sir Jeff and Cymbra. Interestingly, I notice each of the women holds a bidding paddle. Conversation is light and casual and milling voices echo throughout the facility as the final stragglers take a seat down below.
A hush sweeps abruptly from one end of the building to the other as all eyes turn towards the gates. Walter is entering the arena again, this time riding a sulky with an impressive pony girl specimen pulling it. A long whip cracks the air as the pony girl picks up speed. Once, twice, three times around the arena she pulls him, never breaking stride nor slowing down until Walter tugs slightly on the reins. Pulling up next to the stage, Walter hops out, surprisingly spry for such an older man, and pounds up the steps of the stage. The pony girl, covered in a sheen of sweat, breathes heavily around her bit. She is one of his personal projects, and has spent years in training. I should know, as I procured her specifically for Walter four years earlier.
No trace of the previous person remained in the form I saw standing there now. What once was a college gym teacher is now a pony girl to her very core. Her hair was bound tightly in a pony tail on the top of her head, and a matching tail disappears into the crevice of her buttocks. The harness is ingeniously designed to allow her to pull the cart without a bit of tack below her rib cage to obstruct the view. The tail is obviously not being kept in place by any other means than a butt plug, and her lithe body quivers from the recent exertion. Her areoles are hard and dark brown in the arena lighting, and I can tell she is extremely excited. I know Walter has never had her out in public before, and realize this is her first outing where complete strangers could inspect her at will. Her eyes dart across the crowd surreptitiously, wondering I’m sure if she will recognize a friendly face. From my own inside knowledge, she doesn’t stand a chance of seeing anyone she has ever known in her former life.
Turning my attention back to Walter, he is already announcing the commencement of the evenings proceedings. “Let the auction begin!” Bounding back down the steps, he alights in his sulky and snaps the whip. Immediately the pony girl begins pulling again, and rounds the end of the arena. As she pulls past, the gates open and dozens of pony girls flood into the arena to follow her. Some are in simple bridle and arm binders, others were in elaborate tack with feather plumes, all fall in behind the sulky and trot briskly around the complete circuit of the arena before following Walter back through the gates and into the stables.
After the dust settles, Walter walks back into the arena, this time leading a pony girl on a lead line. She steps alertly, her tail swishing with every exaggerated step. He leads her up the steps of the platform, and drops the lead line. Immediately, the pony girl halts and stands at attention, exactly where she is supposed to. This last is not lost on the crowd, and the bidding starts immediately. I glance over at Cymbra, who is nervously fingering her bidding paddle. Sir Jeff leans over and whispers something, after which she nods, laughs lightly, the relaxes. There will be plenty of bidding opportunities over the course of the evening. Better to save the effort for the more worthwhile opportunities. Knowing Sir Jeff’s preferences from previous purchases he has made from me over the course of several years, I have no doubt who he is planning on bidding on - or rather having Cymbra bid on - for him. Of course, Joe and Scarlett have their own interests, and I have no doubt the bidding will be extensive and profitable for me and Walter.
The evening proceeds according to plan, truly interested parties proceeding to the platform to inspect the pony girl of the moment, checking mouths, muscle tone, training, and pretty much anything else they wanted to inspect.
The less desirable specimens are auctioned off first, and as the evening progresses, the bidding attains new heights. Bid and counter bid bounce back and forth, until even Walter has a look of amazement at the amount of money being thrown around.
Finally, it’s the wee hours of the morning and there is only one pony girl left. She has been isolated in the increasingly empty stables, and with each additional empty stall knew her moment was drawing nearer. Samantha shuffles nervously about, feelings warring within her over her status. Occasionally she drinks some of her water, as that is the only thing to occupy herself with. If she performs impeccably, her price goes up but she will know she is truly broken then. If she fights it, she won’t obtain as high a bid and may end up in the hands of someone less affluent, and thus less able to keep a pony girl in top form and well cared for. Finally, the stable boys come for her and she resigns herself to the inevitable.
Prancing out in the arena, her breasts heaving up and down with every step, she glances at the faces grinning back at her. She knows most of them, and realizes that even if someone she knows wins her bid, the types of people staring at her now would never in a million years release her. Making several rounds of the arena, she begins to realize she has a pressure building within her lower abdomen, and realizes she must have been drugged. Now used to the special butt plug, she experiences fresh humiliation as she relieves herself uncontrollably. The laughter from the gallery seating is horrible to her ears!
Almost lightheaded from a rising panic, she forces herself to trot alongside the stable boy to the stage. Crowds of potential bidders have already lined up awaiting their turn to inspect her. Several know they haven’t got a chance in hell of winning, but want to take part anyway, as Samantha’s reputation is known far and wide. She mounts the steps, and takes her place at the “x” marked on the stage. One by one bidders approach, probing, groping, feeling over her body. Stoically, she remains at attention, or turning her head as directed, lifting her leg or simply standing still. She remains motionless even as potential buyers finger her unique chastity device, noticing the permanent slickness on the inside of her thighs. Finally, an hour later the inspection is halted and the bidding proceeds.
“May we start the bidding at $1,000,000?” Walter plaintively cries. After a moment of silence, Joe and Scarlett confer briefly and the paddle goes up.
“One million it is! Do I hear 1.1 million?”
Cymbra’s paddle goes up.
“1.2 million?” Scarlett’s paddle.
“1.3 million?” Cymbra’s paddle.
This continues for fifteen minutes as first one, then the other of the two women gains the upper hand. Finally, the bidding stands at $2.8 million. The crowd sits silently, staring at the two women. Finally, Scarlett casually lays her paddle in her lap. Cymbra fidgets in an almost giddy fashion as she realizes what is coming.
“$2.8 million going once. $2.8 million going twice. $2.8 million it is. Sold to the beautiful lady in the VIP box!”
Almost unable to believe it, she looks over at Scarlett and Joe, then at me, before looking back to Sir Jeff. “Happy Birthday Cymbra.“ Sir Jeff says. Cymbra leaps up in delight, and without a backwards glance bolts through the door of the box. Sir Jeff, smiling and nodding to Joe and Scarlett, rises more slowly and follows.
I return the following morning to my home, exhausted. The building is empty except for me, Jane, and Pet. No one would have ever heard the livestock down in the dungeon anyway, but knowing just how deserted it is at the moment is a strange feeling. No livestock to feed or water or care for, no contacts to follow up on, no targets to investigate.
It’s weird.
I proceed to my loft and find Pet waiting for me as usual. She’s waiting at the door, forehead to floor as usual. I walk through, casually inspecting the rooms, Pet stays only a step behind me, head bowed submissively.
Finally, we are at the bedroom. I turn and look at Pet intently. I have one last move to make in this game.
“Turn around.”
Pet obeys immediately and stands still, her legs apart and her ass jutting out slightly. I walk up close behind her and slip my hands onto her shoulders. I slide them down, resting momentarily on her waist. I consider the options one last time, making sure I want to do this, then on a final impulse I slip my hands back up and begin releasing buckles on the arm binder. Shocked and confused, Pet raises her head immediately and glances back over her shoulder, remaining still otherwise.
I slip off the outer leather arm binder and begin working on the inner liner. I have my knife out now and am working on the lacings. Five minutes later they are history and I’m removing the inner liner.
Unlike the other pony girls, I installed small electrical shock units in Pet’s arm binder, allowing me to keep her muscles toned. It’s paid off as she stretches her arms now, for the first time in years. Yet they are not withered. Slightly weakened obviously, and they look it, but they are still quite functional.
Pet still stands with her back to me, and I slowly turn her around to face me. Automatically, she lowers her gaze to not look me in the face. I lift her chin with one finger, and look her in the eyes.
“I’m leaving. I’ve made a fortune tonight, and I don’t believe in pushing my luck. But I’ve done too much to simply walk away from all of this.” At the last statement, I nod towards the loft, and by extension the remainder of the building. “I need a successor. So, unless you prefer to go back into the arm binder, you’re it. Want the position?” Pet looks at me with a confused expression. Hopeful, yet terrified at the same time.
“Well?”
“Yes.”
Her response is very faint, almost a whisper. But there is a strength there I knew of all along. I turn and walk into the bedroom. I hear her bare quiet footsteps behind me. For the first time, she gives herself to me willingly. In the morning, I leave quietly. She’s asleep on the bed, face down, her arms down at her sides. Even free of the arm binder it will be a while before she’s adjusted to her new freedom.
I leave quietly, making sure I lock the doors behind me and that she‘s left safe and undisturbed. I leave a note on her pillow, directing her to a stack of paperwork on the desk in the office. It has access codes, contact information, passwords, useful phone numbers, everything she needs to continue the business - or liquidate it. She’s been the sole source of companionship for me these past few years. The only one I never had to worry about. I could have easily disposed of her in any number of ways on any number of occasions from the first moment her original buyer backed out. She knows what I am capable of and that in a small way I showed her a mercy in making her what she became. She will now hopefully fulfill the ambitions I developed for her over the intervening years and make the most of her new life.
I have left her everything except my bank account and my motorcycle. An hour later I’m selling the bike at a loss to a dealer. Ten minutes later I’m taking a cab to the airport and twelve hours after that I’m walking into the small Mediterranean chateau I purchased last week. It’s under my real name, and has no connection to the alternative life I’ve led for so long. It’s safe.
I spend the next six months furnishing my new home. New works of art. New furniture. I’ve even developed a casual friendship with the owner of the small vineyard next door. Occasionally I go out on my yacht and enjoy the freedom of the waves. My thoughts are never far from my past however. It’s left it’s mark on me. I only wonder if my new life will last or be ruined, and I always keep a quick escape handy.
But nothing happens, and eventually I relax. I get to know the locals, begin growing my own vineyard even. It’s comical, and there’s absolutely no chance in hell I’ll ever make it as a wine maker, but it’s fun and gives me something to do.
Sometimes I miss the excitement of my old life, even to the point of finding myself surreptitiously scoping out a prospective new pony girl. But eventually even that passes.
Then it happens. I’m relaxing by the pool and my butler announces a guest. He says she is sure I’ll see her and is quite insistent. The elderly gentleman is a bit put out apparently, but doesn’t know what to do with her obviously. My suspicions are at their peak and I casually tell him to show her out to the pool, that I will receive her there.
I’m almost not shocked when Pet walks in. Dressed in fashionable leather and walking confidently, she has a direct bearing about her and strong stride that telegraphs that she is not a woman to be trifled with.
“Well, this is a surprise. I guess I’ll have to relocate again. How did you find me?” I look curiously at her. I’ve not moved from the lounge chair, and my hand is curled around the grip of my pistol, concealed under the towel at my side.
“Oh don’t bother. I’m not here to give you a hard time - though you would deserve it!” Pet said. “And for your information, you can call me Dominick. Pet died the moment you took those arm binders off.”
I laugh. “At least I didn’t dispose of you. You do know I was limited in my options, right?”
Dominick laughs now. “Yeah, I know you didn‘t have many choices, and I actually do appreciate the chance you gave. I’ve really made a decent go of the business you left me. Can you imagine Walter’s surprise when I showed up at his estate the first time with Jane in tow as a new pony girl for sale? I thought the poor dear would have a heart attack! I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so flustered!”
“Well, that is a first. How is the old gentleman?” I ask.
“Doing well. He sends his regards. He’s how I found you actually.”
“Really. I’ll have to speak to him about that.” This last was said darkly, my meaning perfectly clear.
“Oh don’t bother the man. He meant no harm, and neither do I. I simply wanted to come thank you. That’s all. In person.” Dominick has sat by me in the adjacent chair, and leans forward intently.
“I’ve decided to sell out myself. I got a good two years in, and the sale of the business will make up for any shortfalls that are left. I want to follow your lead and get out before it’s too late. One slip and you’re done for, and I don’t want to end up like Samantha!”
“Good enough, but why are you here exactly? Surely you don’t want my advice any longer? I’ve taught you everything I could already.”
“No, nothing like that. I just want to relax, take a vacation, and spend some time away and lost to the world to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Only problem is I had only one true - love - and he was nowhere to be found, until now.”
At this last statement, she leans forward suddenly and kisses me. Long and passionately. I hear a throat clear behind her and break the kiss off to look over at my butler.
“Please prepare a room. Ms. Dominick will be joining us for a while and she’s to be made comfortable. Our home is her home.”
“Yes sir.” The old gentleman turns and leaves and I look back to Dominick.
“This is going to be quite interesting.” I say.
“Yes indeed.” Dominick shifts over to my chair, places her head on my shoulder as she has so many times in the past, and breathes deeply.
I’m finally at peace.