The Reluctant Pony

By Rilawild

Chapter 1

I stood stock still, I found the whole situation almost surreal. In front of me was a naked woman. If that wasn’t enough though she was not just naked, no it was much worse than that. Her bronze sleek body was criss-crossed with black leather straps in a bizarre parody of a horse’s harness including a wicked looking bit and bridle, which clearly ensured that she would not able to speak.

Her hands were fastened firmly behind her back, meaning that she had no means at all to protect her modesty. Her bare breasts stood high and firm on her chest with her nipples clearly hard and aroused. I couldn’t help but compare her ample, proud assets with my own smaller breasts. I had always wished that I’d been better endowed, and there was no way I could possibly compete with such a gorgeous creature as this, but then I’d never go the extremes of flaunting myself in the way that this girl was.

I was shocked and surprised that she was not completely embarrassed and humiliated to be standing bound and gagged and so, oh so, exposed, out here in the open of the small paddock surrounded by dozens of dressed men and women. However, she wasn’t alone in her state of undress. There were many other young and equally beautiful women similarly nude and harnessed. And as far as I could tell none of them exhibited the level of humiliation that they ought to. Even though I was fully dressed I felt more embarrassment from being so close to so many nude girls than they did.

Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the girl in front of me. It wasn’t just her breasts on display. My eyes followed her harness down to her crotch. A thin leather strap descended from the body of the harness right between her legs. It didn’t however offer any real protection for her modesty. Instead it just drew the eye to her swollen labia, which it split without hiding. I was sure that I could see a glistening on her inner thighs portraying that she was excited.

This if anything shocked me more than the terrible fact that she had been led like an animal by a leash, or I suppose it would be more accurate to call them reins, by a fully dressed man.

Worst though and maybe the reason that I felt so embarrassed was that I could feel that my own sex in my panties was decidedly puffy.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” The question snapped me back out of my drifting thoughts. It was the man holding her reins who had spoken. To my further embarrassment, I realised he’d addressed me rather than the small group of my companions.

My boss and I had just arrived as guests at the Wallinghurst Pony Club, neither of us had had any inkling that it was going to be anything other than a traditional pony club, so we were both extremely shocked to find that the ponies were young women, all of whom were basically naked, bound and gagged with bits. I’m sure that we’d have left immediately if not for the importance of the meeting that had drawn us here.

Our host and his friends was standing right besides us, they clearly did know all about the club and the human ‘ponies’ – they were members after all. He’d just been introducing Mr. Hanson, my boss, to his companions when we’d been interrupted by the arrival of the man leading this beautiful naked creature.

I didn’t really know how to respond to the question. If I said yes then I felt that I would be saying that it was all right for her to be paraded nude like this, equally though I couldn’t say no since it was so obviously incorrect – she was very beautiful. Not to mention that I didn’t want to offend our host, the man who’d be my new boss if today’s meeting went as planned.

“Err, yes,” I stammered quietly. Despite normally being so confident when faced with new and unusual situations to do with work I found myself blushing and dropping my eyes to the floor. I just could not bring myself to look the man in the eyes. I was blushing very deeply.

“Come closer,” he encouraged, “Richard told me that this was your first visit to the club.”

“N-n-no, thanks.”

“It’s OK, she won’t bite,” he laughed gently, then reached forward to take my hand and gently pulled me forward, closer to the naked young woman. I didn’t want to get any closer, but I couldn’t be rude either. Mr. Hanson, would never forgive me if I screwed up today’s meeting. Once more my eyes were drawn to her golden flesh. I followed her strong muscled legs up from her strange boots. It looked like she was standing on her tip-toes, but the boots didn’t have any heels so I couldn’t understand what forced her stand that way. She was a tall girl, almost as tall as I was I guessed, but at the moment she was a good two or three inches taller than me because of way the boots made her stand.

Again I found myself looking at the swollen flesh of her sex, cruelly split by the thin leather strap.

“Don’t you think she’s lovely?”

My tongue felt suddenly dry in my mouth and I couldn’t find any words to respond. Was he aware of where my eyes had been drawn, I wondered to myself? I forced my eyes away from her crotch but only found myself staring at her bosom instead.

“Here,” he coaxed, “reach out and stroke her breast with the back of your hand like this.” He very gently caressed her to demonstrate. As he touched her, I saw her shiver slightly. He touched the outside edge of her breast in small upwards strokes. Her flesh bouncing softly with each touch.

“She loves that,” and then to the girl herself, “don’t you?” It was just like he was talking to a beloved pet. She responded by shaking her head up and down with an exaggerated nod. It certainly reminded me of the way a horse nods its head; her mane of blonde hair shaking back and forth as her head moved.

“Now you do it,” he said it like an order, “it shows a filly that you appreciate her beauty.”

I was a little afraid. It was clear that he expected me to touch her. I felt that I couldn’t do it, but knew that I had to – that or make a scene. Almost like an automaton I raised my arm and brought the back of my hand up to her chest. As my hand approached her perfect skin it was like a static electric charge was building. I felt the hairs on the back of my hand stand up. And then when my skin touched hers it discharged right through my body and I gasped. I saw the girl shudder again when I touched her and I felt myself shiver too.

Her breasts were so soft, her flesh giving way beneath my touch.

“Yes, that’s right.” he encouraged me to continue.

My mind was in a whirl, I found it hard to believe that I was actually touching another woman’s bare breast and in such a sexual manner. I hardly touched my own breasts like that! The whole situation felt so unreal.

As I stroked the woman’s breast in front of me I couldn’t help but wonder why she allowed herself to be led around bound and gagged. I just couldn’t comprehend how she could be so calm, so serene, so so ... Oh I felt confused. I wondered what had led her to join the club in the first place.

Then a horrible, terrible, thought struck me: I remembered that, in order to get an invite today, so that I could help Mr. Hanson, I’d said I’d love to join the club. In fact I’d almost pleaded. Of course, I’d had no idea what the club was really all about then, now the realisation of the consequences of my ‘cunning’ plan struck me hard. I spun around shocked at the horrendous thought to face our host.

“Oh yes,” he said, turning to his companions, “I almost forgot to introduce Andrew’s assistant. This is a Isabelle, and she’s interested in becoming a ponygirl!”

Chapter 2

I shouldn’t get ahead of myself though, my story could have many beginnings, that one included, but perhaps the best place to start is when I became Mr. Hanson’s assistant.

Andrew Hanson owned a small and highly profitable company that sold specialist software for doctors’ surgeries. His business had grown to such an extent that he needed someone to do all the administrative work: accounts, payroll, secretarial and generally running his small office.

At the time I was twenty-three, having worked in various offices since leaving school and had risen to assistant office manager at another software company, so it was a perfect opportunity for me.

It was a good job and I enjoyed it immensely. I had a lot of responsibility and Mr. Hanson trusted me. With my help he was able to concentrate on growing the business further instead of having to handle all the day-to-day tasks associated with running the company. I was really proud that I was able to organise the, at the time, chaotic accounts and record keeping.

Within a year and a half the business had more than doubled its revenue and was well on its way to doubling again with no prospect of the growth ending. I was doing really well; Mr. Hanson was very pleased with me; I was doing a management diploma in the evenings and Mr. Hanson gave me an afternoon off a week for my studies. My career was going just where I wanted it.

I suppose I ought to tell you a bit about myself since I guess it has a bearing on my story. My name is Isabelle and I’m a tall white woman: five foot eleven in stockinged feet. All through my childhood I was taller than all the girls I knew and most of the boys too. I was most definitely the ugly duckling at school, all gangly arms and legs, not graceful at all.

I have a very pale complexion, I suppose because I’ve always hated sun bathing. That’s probably because I hate people looking at me, and I guess that’s ‘cause I was teased at school. I’ve been told that I’m pretty now, but when I look in the mirror I can only see the plain, overly tall, girl from my school days, and that insecurity takes a long time to get over.

I was always thin, one of the less offensive names I had at school was ‘stick insect’. Nowadays, I love to exercise, I jog most mornings before work, and so I’ve fleshed out a bit and have some pleasant curves.  I wear a 32B bra and I’ve always wished I had more ‘up top’. I’m definitely self-conscious about my small breasts. My nipples though are very sensitive and quiet large, which can be extremely embarrassing at times.

My best feature, in my opinion, is my lovely long, flowing, honey-coloured hair.

One might think that running an office I’d be a gregarious out-going sort of person. Well, when it comes to work, I am very confident and can hold my own with the best of them. My private life though is the complete opposite. I’m very shy. Again, I’m certain that it comes from being teased so much at school.

I’d never had a boyfriend. I’d never had sex. Hell, I’d never even had an orgasm. I know you might find that hard to believe but it’s true. At school I was an ugly dork. I came from a poor home and couldn’t afford posh clothes. None of the boys were interested in me when there were many confident and sexily-dressed beautiful girls willing to put out.

I didn’t mind since I spent all my time studying. My mum didn’t want me to end up like her, pregnant at fourteen and living in a tower block. She made me study hard so that I got a good education, and she warned me off boys. I got so many lectures about the evils of sex and its consequences – of which our little family was a prime example – that I was terrified of the male of the species.

In my early teens I discovered masturbation, but no sooner had I started my self-exploration than my mum put a stop to it. She caught me one night (our walls were paper thin) and I received such a tongue lashing that I was terrified of trying again. She even threatened to take me over her knee. Even when I left home the guilt she instilled in me stopped me from touching myself.

Anyway, you don’t need to know all about my history, suffice it to say, I was great at my job and I was terrible at relationships.

The company was doing well and I was raking in some excellent bonuses and I’d passed the first year of my studies with flying colours. Life was looking great. Then Mr. Hanson told me that he’d received an approach to see if he’d be interested in selling the business. It seemed that the success of his software had drawn the attention of some other company that was interested in moving in to the same market.

So, we had a new challenge. I had to get the accounts in order and presented in the best possible light for the due diligence, and had to work out the one hundred and one things that needed to be done to make the process go smoothly.

As Andrew’s assistant I found myself invited to the meetings with prospective buyers. I was well prepared and we were in an excellent position: we didn’t need a deal, there were other companies who were beginning to sniff around, and we had a fantastic product. It was a sellers market. So I was supremely confident as we were ushered into the board room of RS Systems. Andrew, William Preston, our lawyer, and I were introduced to their team. There were four of them, but it was clear that the only one who mattered was Richard Stirling, the owner of the company.

I found him to be very unsettling. He was in his early forties and well built. In my two inch heels I was taller than him but he didn’t make me feel like that. He was rich and powerful and he knew it. What unsettled me was the way he looked at me as we were introduced. He looked me up and down and then smiled broadly. There was something in his blue eyes that I didn’t understand. I’d been in plenty of business meetings and that look said nothing about business. However, during the meeting it was primarily Mr. Hanson to whom he spoke. In fact he didn’t speak with me at all, and that was part of what was unsettling about the meeting. I was too busy taking down notes though that I didn’t have much time to dwell on thoughts about the way he acted towards me.

My job during the weeks of negotiation was to check the figures, do some due diligence and liaise with the staff from RS Systems. Mr. Hanson was very pleased with the results of the information pack I put together, I managed to pull a lot of information together in a short period of time. The Internet is a great resource and you can find almost anything when you put the right terms into a search engine.

To me it looked like it was going to be a good deal for Mr. Hanson. If it came off then he was going to be set for life. I’d make a tidy little sum in bonuses and have a good job in the new company.

Mr. Stirling and Mr. Hanson had quite a few meetings as they negotiated the details. I attended only a handful of them, but it was the same every time. Mr. Stirling would look me up and down, smile and then ignore me throughout the meeting. I found it very uncomfortable. He talked freely with Mr. Hanson and Mr. Preston, but never with me. The first time I tried to interject a point, he just waved his hand in dismissal and said, “yes, yes, very interesting, but the main thing we need to discuss is...” and then went off on another topic all together. I felt so small and insignificant. I didn’t interject again.

The only time I managed to get Mr. Stirling’s attention was when I presented my market analysis. He seemed strangely pleased that I’d managed to find so much information in such a short period of time; even though the analysis probably meant he’d end up paying more than he’d originally offered.

So far, so fine and dandy. Everything was eventually agreed and the contracts had been finalised. Then Mr. Hanson came back from a final meeting with Mr. Stirling and told me that they were going to sign contracts on Saturday. He said he’d been invited to, in his words, a “horsey” event at an estate in the countryside to celebrate the signing. Then his face took on a bit of a bewildered look.

“It’s all very strange though if you ask me. Richard described it as a sort cross between an athletics meeting and a gymkhana. Only female participants. The strange thing was that when I asked about the horses, he just laughed and said, ‘no, no horses, just the pony girls’, I just didn’t understand it, what’s the difference between horses and ponies? However, the food and hospitality is supposedly the best, absolutely first rate – perfect for a celebration, Richard said.”

“Okay,” I said, “so what’s the problem? You’re clearly not sure about something.”

“Well it’s just that he can only get one guest ticket. I really would want you and William there at a signing. We’re a team. However, it does seem something that Richard is keen on and I don’t really want to sour the deal now.”

He continued, “I initially wondered if it was a ploy to change the deal at the last minute without my lawyer present, but I spoke with William on the way back and he says the contract is water tight and anyway I’ll be taking the actual paperwork with me so Richard isn’t going to slip something into the fine print at the last minute. I think it really is just as it seems.”

I could understand why he felt uneasy. It seemed a strange way to close the deal, but then again Richard Sterling was a fairly strange man.

“Well, why not sleep on it, talk it through with William in the morning then let Mr. Stirling know tomorrow.”

That’s how I first heard about the Wallinghurst Pony Club. Mr. Hanson’s gilt-edged invitation “cordially solicited his attendance as the guest of Mr. Richard Stirling Esquire”. There was certainly nothing to indicate anything untoward about the club.

That evening I did a bit of research. There was very little I could find about the pony club. From all I could get it sounded just like any ordinary gathering of the horse set, but from what Mr. Hanson had said it was about athletics not horses, but then why call it a pony club. The references I found though certainly mentioned ponies, their training and competitions. The part about only women competitors did sound right from what I read, certainly there was no mention of men taking part – though there was mention of both male and female owners and trainers, and I found those references very odd.

I was certainly intrigued by it all, and I had the same nagging worry that Richard Stirling was trying to pull a fast one at the last minute. I wanted William to be there to watch out for Mr. Hanson from the legal side and I wanted to be there at the signing to make sure that Mr. Hanson didn’t find himself backed into a corner and made agree to something that wasn’t in his best interests.

The club though did sound like it was very exclusive, and as such it was a closed community. There didn’t seem to be any public web sites for the club or its members. Also, strangely I thought, it didn’t seem to have sort of connection with the other clubs or events for other horse and country folk.

I didn’t see any way to get another invite if Richard really couldn’t get one. Then I found the solution! I do wonder how things would have turned out if I hadn’t found that web page.

The page was actually from a private web site. However, it had been cached by the search engine – clearly someone had made a mistake and left it unsecured and the greedy web spider had eaten it up before they’d rectified their error.

I discovered that the Wallinghurst Pony Club had two types of guest invitations. There were the ones for owners and trainers, and that was the type that Mr. Hanson had been provided with. The other type was for “Young Women of Good Breeding” who were “excited” and “serious” about being considered as a candidate for taking part in the club’s events. There wasn’t much more information and none of the pictures were available having never been captured by the web spider. It did though make it clear that candidates were expected to deport themselves appropriately and that time-wasters were strongly discouraged.

So I eagerly began to formulate my cunning plan. Clearly there was no way that William was going to get an invitation. If anyone was going to look after Mr. Hanson then it would have to be me, and in order to do it I would have to pretend to be eager to join the club as a participant. I decided that I could go along as a candidate, make sure everything went smoothly and then ‘realise’ that it wasn’t for me. Oh foolish me.

The next morning, I laid down my opening salvo. I dropped a hint to Mr. Hanson that I’d always been interested in joining a pony club and that it was a shame that I’d miss out on the fun. I ‘failed’ to hide my disappointment when he repeated that Mr. Stirling had only one guest invitation. He’d just finished discussing it in detail with William and it seemed he’d laid his worries to rest and was now keen to get the deal finalised.

Then in a wonderful piece of acting on my part, I ‘remembered’ that clubs often had special deals for people who were interested in joining the club to come along to an event to see if they really did want to join.

“Do you think that the Wallinghurst Pony Club would do something like that? I’ve been really interested in joining a club like that for years – they must always be on the look out for new members. It would be great, I could come along to the signing celebration and maybe enrol at the same time. I’d love it.”

Mr. Hanson seemed surprised by my eagerness, but I could see that he was thinking it over. I just hoped that he wouldn’t realise that it was just a ruse so that I could watch his back. I know he felt that he could handle it all himself, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if he was taken advantage of when I could have help him.

“Well, as much as I’d like to help you realise a dream, we must remember that this is an important business meeting. I wouldn’t want you to forget that, if anything went wrong it could cause problems. You’ll be working for Richard next week if everything goes well.”

“I know, and perhaps this is a great opportunity for me too. If Mr. Stirling is going to be my boss, I don’t think it would hurt for him to know that we share an interest.”

He thought about it some more and then nodded.

“Okay, yes, I can see that. It would be good for you to meet with Richard at a social occasion where you share an interest, get a head start with your new boss and all that. Well, I still don’t want to be pushy after he’s made it clear that there’s only one ticket – I actually think he wants to seal the deal one-on-one, but I’ll mention it to him when we speak later.”

Yes! I thought. Now, if Mr. Stirling goes for it too, then I’ll be home and dry. Oh, I patted myself on the back for my cunning. Yes, definitely, foolish, foolish me.

Later on, Mr. Hanson came over to my desk, clearly on the phone with Mr. Stirling.

“Isabelle, I’ve mentioned to Richard that you’re interested in joining the club and wondered about whether you’d be able to come along on Saturday as well. Well he’s not sure he can pull it off. Anyway, he wants a chat with you.”

Now that surprised me. He’d hardly said a word to me in the weeks that we’d been working on the deal.

“Hello, this is Isabelle.” Well duh, I cursed myself, of course it was me – who else could it be.

“Andrew tells me you’re interested in joining the club.” He came straight to the point, no ‘how are you’ chit chat.

“Yes, I’ve always wanted to join a club like that.”

“Really?” He sounded sceptical. “You do know about the club I take it?”

Hmm, what to say, I thought, does he know I’m bluffing?

“Well, not specifically the Wallinghurst club, but clubs like it yes, and it’s always been something that has,” I paused for a moment trying to remember the words from the web page, “‘excited’ me, I’d really like to find out if it’s something that I’d enjoy as much as I think I would.”

“You’re sure, are you?” I heard a little chuckle down the line. “The club has a very exclusive membership and takes its privacy seriously. They don’t like just anyone coming along to their events, and certainly not people who just want to pry into their goings on.”

“Oh, I’m definitely serious about it,” yes that’s the right term, “I want to give it a shot and hopefully take it from there. I’ve been looking for a way to join a club for a while.”

“Ha,” he gave an amused snort, “I’m sure you have. I imagine that you have good potential, I hadn’t realised that it was something that interested you though.” Then he paused, obviously weighing it up and then to my relief he said, “I’ll see what I can do.” Then abruptly, “Hand me back to Andrew please,” and our conversation was over.

Mr. Hanson took the phone and returned to his office. Meanwhile my heart was pounding. I felt like I’d been subjected to the third degree and wondered what I was getting myself into. All that guff about exclusivity and privacy. I bet he’s more concerned about being seen with a girl who wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth in front of his friends. Well I can ‘deport’ myself as well as the best of them.

I felt a bit guilty about pulling the wool over their eyes. If it turned out the deal was a bad one for Mr. Hanson then I wouldn’t mind upsetting Mr. Stirling and I’m sure Mr. Hanson would forgive me. If it turned out that everything was good then a bit of time proving that I’m interested in the same things as my new boss will go a long way to smoothing my way into my new job. It all sounded like a win-win situation in my head when I thought it over.

It was late Friday when Mr. Hanson came and told me that Mr. Stirling has managed to secure an invitation for me as a candidate member.

“He did say that he’s glad you want to come and that you’ll need to remember that membership is a serious matter and that he’d understand if you decided not to come and wouldn’t think any worse of you.”

I was beginning to wonder whether I wanted to work for Mr. Stirling. The whole palaver about the club seemed way over the top. I thought that I’d try it out and if working for him didn’t suit me I’d have made enough money from the bonuses I was due that I’d be able to take some time off and look for another job.

“Isabelle, I’ll pick you up in the morning, at say 8:30.”

That brought me back from my pondering and I nodded.

“Yes, that would be great. See you then.”

Chapter 3

The fateful day arrived. I was definitely nervous. I had too much to think about. I needed to watch out for Mr. Hanson and I had to keep up my façade of being interested in joining the club – both to secure my pretext of being there and to keep in with my new boss. I’d have to play it carefully. When I decided not to join the club I’d have to be careful not to seem like it was a frivolous decision to ask to come along so that I don’t make life awkward at work in the future. Anyway, you never know, I thought, I might decide I want to join after all anyway.

I hadn’t really been sure what to wear, casual was definitely out of the question, but then I thought so was business attire. In the end I settled on a summer dress and sun hat with matching handbag and sensible shoes – I wasn’t sure if I’d be walking on soft ground or proper paths. I was afraid of the former and so ruled out sandals.

Mr. Hanson was true to his word and picked me up at 8:30 on the dot. The journey was pleasant enough and took us through some of the lovely rolling countryside. The estate was really more of a large farm, but a good ten miles from the nearest town and a couple from the next village.

The entrance was hidden away down a secluded track and it took us longer to find than we’d anticipated and so we were running a little late by the time we arrived. I could tell that Mr. Hanson was a little fraught, he clearly didn’t like being late to such an important event and I couldn’t really blame him.

A marshal on the gate checked our invitations and waved us in. We parked in a small field already mostly filled with large four-by-fours, some with horse boxes, and executive saloons.

As we hurried between the cars towards the buildings something caught the corner of my eye. It was only a glimpse between two trailers and I dismissed it as my imagination. My brain told me I’d seen a topless woman but that couldn’t be right. Oh, I should have stopped to check but then hindsight is a wonderful thing.

The marshal must have radioed ahead to let Mr. Stirling know that his guests had arrived since he came and met us to take us through to the show field. As always he looked me up and down as he shook Mr. Hanson’s hand and then took mine and said, “Lovely, lovely.” A wider than usual smile stretching his lips into a grin.

I blushed at the unexpected compliment and found myself murmuring a thank you.

“This way, this way,” he encouraged us, “they’ve already started the first event of the day. You haven’t missed much.”

As we turned a corner, I could see a collection of marquees and tents and one or two people ambling between them. Suddenly though we were confronted by a sight that stopped us both dead.

This time there was no mistake. The woman who appeared from behind a wall was essentially naked. Her body was constrained with dark straps but they didn’t cover much. Her breasts were completely bare, well except for two small tassels affixed to her nipples. Her lower half was covered by a dangerously thin strap descending from her waist between her legs and up behind her. Neither really left much for the imagination to fill in.

I had seen my first ponygirl.

She was clearly intended to appear like a human horse, for the straps on her body made up a harness which continued up to her head, in the form of bridle including what looked like a horse’s bit. She also sported a “tail” the same colour as her hair, protruding from her rear. Her hands were grasped behind her back and it looked to me that they might well be fastened behind her to her harness.

To complete the image of a horse, she was being led by reins attached to her bridle by a middle aged man dressed in tweed.

I was totally gob smacked. The man behaved as if this was completely normal and she was going along with it without any form of complaint.

I stared on in shock and an understanding dawned on me. The participants were indeed women and there were no horses. The women instead took on the role of the ponies. It also explained the “cross between athletics and gymkhana”. I could understand that now, but still why was she so exposed?

My stunned thoughts were interrupted though by Mr. Stirling.

“She’s exquisite isn’t she?” It seemed he’d misunderstood our stunned looks for admiration. “But we should hurry, they’re about to have the first race of the day.”

He strode off quickly, leading the way. Mr. Hanson and I followed along behind him in silence. I wasn’t quite sure what I could say and thoughts had already begun to spin around in my head.

It wasn’t long before we were in amongst the tents. Now we couldn’t move without seeing more of these naked girls. All were young, fit and attractive; all wore leather harnesses of one variety or another; all had bridles; and all had their hands immobilised some how: most were fastened behind their backs, some at their sides and others fastened up to the collar around their neck, their arms framing their bare breasts.

They looked calm and almost serene. Many were standing patiently besides their ‘owner’, ‘trainer’ or ‘groom’, as I soon learned were the correct terms, others were being led by reins or simply following, and some were ‘hitched’ to stakes. All though seemed completely content to be treated like animals. I wondered why they weren’t fighting against their bondage.

The rest of the people were such a contrast to the ponygirls that that made the situation seem even more bizarre. They were dressed normally, just as one might expect country folk at traditional gymkhanas to be. As we passed I heard snatches of conversation here and there that all seemed mundane and ordinary. If it weren’t for the naked girls it could be any countryside gathering.

Then we stopped besides a marquee and Mr. Stirling introduced Mr. Hanson to a handful of people. I recognised one of them as one of the directors of RS Systems. He welcomed Mr. Hanson and congratulated him on the soon to be signed deal. A second man was introduced as a local business man, and finally a young and shapely brunette  shook hands with Mr. Hanson. She was introduced as Miss April Woolsey, who worked at Mr. Stirling’s farm estate.

The aforementioned seemed intent on ignoring me as usual, and perhaps as a consequence I stood a little back. I was definitely feeling uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, at that moment the pretty blonde ponygirl was led in to our little group and that led to:

“This is a Isabelle, and she’s interested in becoming a ponygirl!”

Now I realised just what the implication of what I’d said were. I wondered what Mr. Hanson must be thinking about me now. Did he believe that I wanted to run around naked, made up like a kinky pony?

And what about my new boss? I now felt very uneasy. He was a member of this club and knew about these ponygirls. Now he thought that I liked the idea of being one of them. How could I work with him now? I was kicking myself for my stupid ‘cunning’ plan. However, I had to be careful. I couldn’t back out now without making the situation even more awkward or even hindering Mr. Hanson’s deal. Mr. Stirling had repeated told me that the member of club took membership very seriously. If I admitted my ruse now, I was sure that it would cause a problem.

My head was spinning and I was trying to think through the consequences of what I’d done but I couldn’t concentrate.

Mr. Stirling prompted me again, “you are interested in being a ponygirl, aren’t you my dear?”

I wanted the ground to swallow me up. There didn’t seem to be any answer I could give that wouldn’t make everything ten times worse than they were already. I decided that the only course I could really take was to brazen out my bluff.

“Erm, yes, well interested in seeing what its all about at least.” I knew I was blushing bright red. After all I was admitting to these strangers, the man I’d worked with for a couple of years and the man I’d be working for from next week, that I was interested in the idea of parading around in the nude being treated like a horse.

“Come now, there’s no need to be shy, we’re all friends here. When we spoke on the phone you told me how excited you were by the prospect of joining the club and how you’d been looking for just such an opportunity as this. Isn’t that so?”

Hoist by my own petard! Mr. Hanson had been standing right there besides me when I’d told Mr. Stirling that, so there was no way I could deny it. If anything my blush got even deeper.

“Erm,” I hesitated again. I felt like a rabbit stuck in a car’s headlights. Everyone was now watching me intently.

“Yes,” I eventually confirmed nodding and dropping my head. I just couldn’t make eye contact with the others. I felt so humiliated. Why had I come up with the stupid plan, I’m far too clever for my own good sometimes.

“Good. You’re a bit late, we like to get new member registration completed early on, but that can’t be helped now. The club secretary will sort out the registration process presently. Andrew and I need to sign some papers before we can sit back and enjoy what the show has to offer.”

Mr. Stirling continued, “speak of the devil, here is Mrs. Hurst. She’ll sort you out and get you properly registered.” He gestured to a matronly figure bustling towards us. The woman was a good four or five inches shorter than me and it seemed almost twice as wide.

“Jenny, it’s so good to see you. Please accept my apologies, Isabelle here has only just arrived, I understand that they had a little trouble finding us. But I think she’s eager to get started, she’s just been telling us how excited she is.” Not quite true, but I didn’t think it wise to contradict him.

Then he turned towards me, “Now run along with Mrs. Hurst.”

I’d definitely been dismissed. I felt humiliated.

Chapter 4

I hoped to get this membership registration completed quickly so that I could get back before the contracts were signed. So I followed Mrs. Hurst quickly as she led me away.

It didn’t take long for us to reach a small stable block. Oh how appropriate I thought. She led me into a small room, closed the door, turned to face me and then looked me up and down.

Then a warm smile spread across her face.

“Welcome to the Wallinghurst Pony Club. It’s wonderful when young women are eager to join us. Now, let’s get you properly registered as a prospective member.”

“I need to take down some details and make some measurements. We find it much easier if we do this up front when we sign up a new member, it keeps the files complete.”

“Before we start though, I have an important question to ask. This stays between you and me. I want to know if you’re here under false pretences.”

I was surprised. I’d known this woman for only a few moments and said hardly a word to her and it seemed she’d already seen through my deception. I hesitated for a moment, and then decided that if she really had worked it out then she would have already exposed me. So once more I decided I couldn’t go back on my story.

“No, of course not. I really am interested in learning more.” I hoped I sounded confident, but I wasn’t sure.

“Excellent. You wouldn’t believe it, some of our less scrupulous members sometimes bring women along who had no idea what the club was about. So we’ve taken to checking in private that everything is above board. If it’s not then we just quietly forget the registration and say that the girl is not suitable – it saves everyone embarrassment later on.”

My guilty mind had played a trick on me. She was just checking that I hadn’t been fooled into coming here. Had I been? Perhaps, but just by myself. I’d had a chance to save face and I’d just blown it. I thought for a moment that I could just say something, but then decided that it could still adversely affect the deal between Mr. Hanson and Mr. Stirling so I kept quiet and the moment was gone.

“Firstly, I need to take a picture for your file, please stand over here in front of that white wall.” I moved and stood where she indicated. “Let me take your delightful sun hat, we want to have a clear view of your lovely face don’t we.” She reached out and I handed her my hat, shaking my long hair clear.

I followed her directions and took up the pose that she directed: standing straight, hands at my side, feet together, chin up and looking straight ahead at the camera.

“Yes, that’s right. Hold that pose for a moment,” and then “Good, that’s perfect. Now let’s get down some details.”

“Your full name?”

“Isabelle Marie Hatton,” I answered.

“Address?”

“15B The High Street,” and I proceeded to tell her where I lived, my birth date, that I was single and that I was employed as an office manager in answer to her questions.

“And you are here with a Mr. Andrew Hanson? He’s to be listed as the owner of your registration right?”

“Umm,” I hesitated for a moment, not really sure what she meant, but then stammered, “yes, I guess so.”

“Good, good. Now then, if you could just sign here?” She handed me the form she’d been filling in with my details, it had three or four pages of text attached and looked a little like lots of legal mumbo-jumbo.

As I paused trying to decide what I should do, she continued, “We need you to confirm your registration and of course it indemnifies the club against unfortunate litigation so there’s a fair bit of legalese, but we do need to have a signature. You did say you wanted to join the club didn’t you?”

I was nervous about signing, but I supposed that since I didn’t intend to remain a member of the club that in reality it didn’t matter too much. I guessed that when you have nearly naked women running around you probably need to ensure that members aren’t going to sue the organisers.

With a little reluctance I picked up the proffered pen and signed the form where she indicated and then at her urging initialled each of the pages. Then I turned to the door, ready to return to the others now that the registration was complete.

“Excellent.” She said. “Now I need to get some measurements for our records. I prefer to take these myself rather than relying on the girl’s ‘memory’.” I was a little taken aback that there was still more that needed to be done, but I thought ‘in for a penny in for a pound’. It hopefully wouldn’t take long.

“So, we’ll start with your height. Please slip off your shoes and stand here by this scale.”

I did as she asked, feeling the cold flagstones under my bare feet. I stood erect and felt the marker lowered until it touched the top of my head, measuring my height. Mrs. Hurst made a note on her clip board: 180cm.

“Right. That’s good. Now I need your weight. For this I want an accurate reading so please undress to your underwear.”

I was surprised and for a moment I didn’t know what to do. I supposed I did weigh myself without my clothes at home, and I guessed that Mrs. Hurst was used to viewing young women without their clothing.

“Now, I know you’re a little shy, of course you are, but it’s just you and me here, and you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” Mrs. Hurst used a soothing soft tone and gently placed her hand on my shoulder to reassure me. “I really do need to get an accurate weight.” Her hand gently stroked down my shoulder and upper arm.

She made me feel like I was being silly, that it was a perfectly normal request instead of being asked to undress before a stranger as she filled in a membership form. So I did begin to unbutton my dress.

“That’s a good girl,” she whispered encouragingly and continued to gently stroke me, now on my upper back.

In for a penny, in for a pound I’d told myself and I guessed she was getting her money’s worth as I slipped my dress off my shoulders and revealed my bra to the older woman’s gaze. Then my dress was sliding down my legs and I was stepping out of it. I felt a little shiver as my skin was exposed to the cool air in the small room. I stood there for a moment clutching the dress in front of me trying to keep myself covered.

Mrs. Hurst held out her hand for it and, feeling very embarrassed, I handed it to her before quickly folding my hands over my crotch and bra covered breasts. She deftly folded my dress and placed it into a small plastic box on the little desk in the corner of the room. At least it won’t get dirty I thought.

I hated being so exposed. No-one but my doctor has seen me in my bra and panties before. I didn’t even own a bikini, I always wore one piece swimming costumes when I went to the swimming pool.

Then, gently taking my elbow she guided me to a set of scales, onto which I stepped and from which she took down my weight: 69.4 kilograms.

“Good girl,” she said again, and I was about to rush over and get my dress when she said, “now stay there I need to take down your measurements and it’s easier if you don’t put your dress back on just yet.”

So I stood there clutching my hands over my crotch and breasts, blushing bright red.

“First though, the most important measurement for a ponygirl is for her bridle and bit.” Those words sent an involuntary shiver running down my spine. I just hoped she didn’t expect me to try out one of those wicked looking devices. Unfortunately, it seemed that that was exactly what she intended.

She explained that a badly fitted bit would be extremely uncomfortable so she wanted to get the measurement right. She was going to pick the best fit she had and let me test out the bit so that I could “get accustomed to the feeling and make sure that it was right for my mouth.” I’d be able to try it out while she took the rest of my measurements and completed the registration process. She said that the longer in which I had to try it out the more chance we had to get it right.

It did sort of make sense. I could definitely imagine that if I were a ponygirl I’d want my bit and bridle to be as comfortable as possible. The problem of course was that I didn’t want to be ponygirl. However, I was the one standing there in just my bra and panties having assured her that I was excited by the idea of prancing around in the nude like those girls outside, and she was the fully dressed one advancing on me with combination of leather straps and rubber coated metal!

“It’ll just be for a little while right?” I asked nervously after she’d had me hold a measuring bar in my mouth for a moment to determine what size bit would be the best fit.

“Today is just a chance for you to find out more about the club and get a feeling for what goes on,” she reassured me.

I just didn’t know what I could say to avoid trying out the bit without unravelling my whole story. So, like a fool, I stood there and allowed Mrs. Hurst to fit the bar of the bit between my teeth and then fasten the bridle around my head. She gathered my hair together at the back of my head and fed it through a ring in the back of the bridle’s harness forming it into the familiar pony tail that most of the girls seemed to sport.

I definitely felt strange. I was standing there in my undies, my mouth filled with a bit and strapping around my head. I tried to speak but the flange on the bit effectively silenced me. Only a gurgle came out together with some unintelligent grunts.

“Hush, don’t try to speak. Ponies don’t have voices after all,” Mrs. Hurst shushed me, “Now, we’ll leave that in for a while and see how you get on with it. Though, I must say it looks like a perfect fit to me.”

If this was a good fit then I’d hate a bad one. The contraption was definitely not comfortable. I could feel my lips stretched around the bar and the bridle held it firmly in place, its straps dissecting my cheeks and pulling up over my forehead.

“Right,” she continued, picking up a tape measure from the table, “now for some more measurements. Arms up,” and she motioned for me to raise my arms.

I realised that I would have to uncover my underwear and expose myself further to this commanding woman. I timidly lifted my arms up and away from body while she passed the measure around my waist.

Then she moved onto my chest and measured around my rib cage just below my bra strap and then suddenly I felt that strap come loose.

“If we’re going to get an accurate measurement of your breasts then we’re going to have to remove this I’m afraid,” she announced matter of factly. Before I knew it my bra was being whisked down my arms and into the box with my dress. I tried to complain but the bit meant that nothing understandable came out.

It was just going from bad to worse now. I could feel myself blushing deeply now that I was topless. My instinctive reaction was to clutch my hands over my naked breasts to hide them from view.

“Oh don’t be such a baby. I’m only taking some measurements,” she chided. “Now raise your hands again so that I can get these figures down. We don’t have all day you know – you were late after all.”

Once again, she made me feel guilty and silly for getting in her way, as if my modesty was childish and unjustified. And to my regret it worked, I released my breasts and moved my hands out of the way again so that she could pass the tape measure around me.

“Good girl,” she complimented me once more, “you have lovely breasts my dear. You shouldn’t be shy and ashamed of them. They are a perfect handful,” she said, and then to my surprise she accented that by cupping them. I just stood there looking down at these alien hands holding my bare breasts before me.

“I see you have good sensitive nipples. I like that.”

It was true, as she held my breasts and ran her fingers over my skin my nipples had stiffened and were projecting from my apple sized bosom. I felt mortified with humiliation and began to reach down to cover and protect my vulnerable breasts. Unfortunately, before I could do, Mrs. Hurst captured and pinched my nipples between her strong fingers. I winched with pain and let out a yelp of alarm. I moved my hands closer but as I did she squeezed even harder.

“Clasp your hands behind your back,” she ordered. “I need to see how big your nipples get when they’re fully aroused. I don’t have time to do this any other way, if you’d been on time then we could have taken this more slowly.”

“There, that’s better,” she said as she released her tight grip once I’d complied with her demand and placed my hands behind my back. She returned to gentle stroking my sensitive flesh. I couldn’t believe it. I tried to ask her to stop but of course no intelligible words came out.

I was a little fearful now. She’d been so soothing and calming before but it was clear now that if she didn’t get her way then she could show steel. I felt ashamed at how she’d so easily cowed me. I was a professional young woman who ran an office and was responsible for decisions worth tens of thousands of pounds but yet here I was dressed in just my skimpy panties, gagged with a bit and bridle, and with a stranger caressing my naked breasts and teasing my nipples to full erectness. Even more shaming though was that her expert fingers were most definitely succeeding. My nipples have always been very sensitive and her ministrations had brought them to attention. The worst part of it though was that I could already feel the beginnings of a dampness in my cotton underwear.

To my relief she released my breasts before it got any worse. Mrs. Hurst returned to her tape measure, a set of callipers and notes and took down intimate details of my engorged nipples’ dimensions.

Meanwhile my head was spinning with turmoil. I couldn’t believe how meek I was being and I was trying to understand how I was beginning to be aroused by her treatment. I was still trying to resolve this when Mrs. Hurst stepped around me and stood behind me for a moment. I felt her touching my wrists above my clasped hands. I was just thankful that she wasn’t still stroking my breasts to wonder what she was doing and that was certainly a mistake for I was suddenly brought down to earth with a bump when I realised that she was tightening the strap that she’d just placed around my wrists. I attempted to struggle but it was already too late to get free and I found myself without the use of my hands.

As I tried to jerk my hands free, Mrs. Hurst brought her hand down with a loud slap on the back of my thigh.

“Calm down dear. I just want to see how supple you are, I want to see whether I can get your elbows to touch behind your back or not. The very best ponies can do that, and while I don’t expect to get there today I can measure it and, then as time goes on, see if there is any improvement. But I can’t do that if you’re flailing around. Sooner we get this  done with the sooner we can get back to the show.”

I wasn’t happy by this, but the prospect that this ordeal would be over with soon helped me calm down. The whole registration had gone way beyond anything I’d expected. So, perhaps foolishly, I allowed her to apply another strap just below my elbows and pull it tighter. I felt like she was pulling my shoulders out of their sockets as it tightened and tightened further and further. My shoulders were pulled back forcing my breasts forward and making them more and more prominent. Eventually the tortuous process was complete, I was sure that my elbows must be within millimetres of touching, but I was rudely disabused of that notion when Mrs. Hurst announced: “Good, good, three inches apart. That’s excellent for a beginner. We’ll have another go in a few minutes.”

No! I tried to scream but of course it just came out as “Nnggg”.

Mrs. Hurst then walked back around in front of me and I watched in nervous trepidation as she picked up more straps from a box on the table.

“We might as well try on a harness while we’re here,” she said. I began to turn to try and get away from her but there was nowhere to go. She was between me and the door and beside with my hands fastened behind my back I couldn’t reach the handle. Even worse, where would I go?

She gave me a smack on my bottom to get my attention once more and gave the sharp command: “Stand Still!” The harness didn’t take very long to wrap around my torso. The main part of it comprised a wide belt that cinched tightly around my waist. Next, a collar quickly followed encircling my slim neck. A strap joined the two going right down the centre of my chest between my two jutting breasts, a similar one traced my spine. From these vertical straps two bands circled my chest, one just above and one directly below my breasts; finally the straps restraining my arms were fastened to the new harness constraining my body. After some final tightening, Mrs. Hurst took a step back to admire her work.

“Very nice indeed. You look lovely in the gear. And even though you’re a little shy, I can tell that you love it too.”

I wanted to shout out that she was wrong, that she didn’t know anything, but of course I couldn’t. She just smiled broadly and with an unexpected movement she brought her hand forward and pressed it right into my crotch, pressing it up against my pussy. It was a complete surprise to me. I had not expected it at all and I took a step backwards, but she followed me keeping her hand glued firmly to my most intimate of places. I went to take another step back, it was all I could think of, and I came up short when my bottom hit the table behind me. With nowhere for me to go Mrs. Hurst now began to apply more pressure with her hand and to rub it back and forth.

As she did so, I could feel the sticky dampness, which her manipulation of my breasts had released, beginning to spread more and more on my panties. I groaned into my gag when I felt her pressing a finger right between my lips, pushing the thin material of my underwear into my tender flesh. At the same time her palm began to grind against my hidden clitoris, forcing it’s hood back away from the swelling pea. I had to bite down on the bit between my teeth and fought to remain in control of my body. It was a losing battle. My eyelids drifted down and I could feel my nostrils flaring to suck in the extra air my body seemed to need. I began to feel a little distant as my concentration on anything other than my rapidly dampening crotch waned.

“Good girl,” she said softly, almost a whisper, “Yes, you do love it don’t you. You’re getting so wet aren’t you.” Her questions clearly rhetorical given my inability to reply and the evidence from my poor abused body.

“Now then,” she whispered, as her fingers continued their casual stroking of my sex, “I think we can get rid of these panties now. You don’t need them any longer, do you?”

I shuddered when she removed her hand from my crotch and gripped the waistband of my last remaining item of clothing. It didn’t take long for her to slide them down my legs and remove them from my feet. I didn’t notice nor care what happened to them. I didn’t even consciously realise that I was now naked. All I did feel was the wonderful sensations that returned along with Mrs. Hurst’s hand.

Now with no material in the way her fingers could explore my petals without hindrance. I felt her fingers separating my lips and stroking the very sensitive flesh that they hid. Her touch on my now exposed clitoris was electric. I couldn’t help myself from pushing my hips forward to press myself against her hand.

“Good, good. That’s excellent my dear,” she encouraged and I began to rock back and forth with abandon.

My pleasure was building rapidly now. This was a completely new experience for me. I’d never felt anything remotely like this in my entire life. I was easy prey for her. She knew exactly what my body needed, how to overcome any objection my mind might try to mount by appealing to the animal instinct deep inside of me. I craved the release that was growing inside and there was nothing now that could stop me.

“That’s it. trot on, trot on.” As she said that her hand began to move a little faster and I adjusted my own pace to match it. The feeling was wonderful. I’d just got into the rhythm of her pace when she increased it again. “Now up to a canter.” I was rubbing back and forth quickly now.

Slowly the rapid back and forth motion of her hand reduced until she held her hand steady, but I couldn’t stop. She’d set the pace and then left me to keep it up, forward and back, forward and back, grinding myself onto her steady palm.

“You’re almost there now, can you feel it? Can you feel it?” Her voice was right besides my ear now and I could feel her hot breath on my skin. “Are you ready for the gallop? Yes, yes. Now gallop; gallop as fast as you can.”

With her encouragement I was pumping my hips as fast as I could. My breath was ragged, pulling in air as best I could past the bit. I could feel my breasts bouncing on my chest as I gyrated my body, trying to get the best friction against her immobile hand, my slick flesh slapping wetly against hers.

I felt like my body was going to explode. The pressure inside was enormous and still rising. I knew that there was a threshold just at the edge of my grasp and I galloped towards it as quickly as I could. Mrs. Hurst was expertly controlling my pace, keeping it racing onwards but not yet letting me crash over my goal. I couldn’t believe that my mind and body could take so much raw emotion and sensation.

Then suddenly I felt Mrs. Hurst crush her hand right against my tender clitoris. “Come for me,” was all she said, and it was enough. I exploded. That’s the closest word I can think of to describe the moment of my first ever orgasm. My body spasmed  and shook as it released all its pent up energy. I felt my crotch flooded with my juices. I screamed at the top of my lungs as best as the restraining bridle would allow. Oh it was wonderful. Of course anyone who has had an orgasm will know what I mean and it’s pointless of me trying to describe it to anyone who hasn’t. Suffice it to say, I felt like a piece of myself that had been missing before clicked into place. I was now a complete person.

I was consumed by the pleasure coursing through my body. I quivered uncontrollably as wave after wave of joy pulsed through my flesh centred on my engorged and abused clitoris. I had no strength to resist as Mrs. Hurst expertly prolonged my orgasm.

Eventually, unfortunately, the overwhelming sensations subsided and I was left weak and confused. I was having difficulty understanding what had happened. Oh I’d realised it was an orgasm, I wasn’t that naïve. However, I couldn’t understand why or how I’d experienced one then, of all times. I’d always dreamt and imagined that it would come during sex with tender and loving Mr. Right. Instead here I was standing naked in a tack room having been bound in leather straps by a middle aged woman, pretty much completely the opposite of what I’d expected. Yet, I couldn’t deny that I was extremely aroused by the way that she had treated and touched me.

“Well, well, well,” Mrs. Hurst chuckled, “I think you’re a natural. So wonderfully responsive and so clearly turned on. You’ll be an excellent pony!” She added almost as an after thought, “after training of course.” It didn’t register what she’d said since I was still reeling from the intensity of my climax.

Chapter 5

“We must get on though my dear. Can’t dilly dally all day.” With that she guided me to turn around and gently helped me lean forward until I was bent over the table. I just docilely followed her lead so confused was I by the emotions bubbling inside me.

Then her fingers returned to my sex, which was now so openly exposed between my now slightly spread thighs. She pried apart my lips and probed inside. Even in my confused state I felt the invasion and knew it was wrong and tried to bar her entry, but she was too strong and insistent and I was too slick and sensitive to put up any real resistance.

“My, my, what a surprise,” she said, “still a virgin at your age.” She was clearly surprised. “What a find! Clearly we won’t be needing a dildo to keep you occupied, eh dear?” I was beginning to recover my senses now and that statement sent a chill through my bones.

I could hear her moving around behind me and she was fiddling with something in one of the boxes against the far wall. I was unsure what to do. Had she finished with me? Should I try and straighten up? I decided I’d count to thirty and if she hadn’t said anything by then I’d stand up and try and draw her attention to unbinding me.

I counted slowly, nervously. It seemed so incongruous. She was humming away happily as she worked away but just a few feet away from her there was I, naked, gagged, bound and bent over her table: exposed. I reached thirty but hesitated still. At last I could wait no longer and began to pull myself up – without my hands to push myself up I felt my abdomen muscles straining.

“Stay as you are,” she said firmly. She hadn’t finished with me after all.

I continued to wait. My tension was growing as I wondered what else she had in store for me during this bizarre “registration” process. I had now pretty much come down from the cloud I’d been flying over.

“Ah, this I think will do.” She said, as if to herself and she walked back over towards me. I felt something soft and silky touch my shoulder and back. “Yes, it’s a reasonable match, certainly the best I’ll find from my limited stock.” I just couldn’t comprehend what she was talking about and what she was trying to match.

I felt the soft material, almost fluffy or furry, now laying against my forearms as Mrs. Hurst firmly planted one of her hands, which was grasping the material, over the small of my back. I realised it was so that she could hold me in my bent over position.

I had only a moment to consider what this might mean when I discovered the answer. Something cold and slick pressed between my buttocks. She obviously knew exactly how I’d react since I immediately tried to leap up and found her weight pressed down against me to hold me firm.

“Calm down, no need to get all worked up and excited, a ponygirl has to have a tail. Hold still.”

A tail! I was shocked as I put two and two together and, alarmingly, got four. I remembered seeing the other girls with tails protruding from behind them, but I hadn’t considered that they’d been rooted in their bottoms. Unfortunately for me my shock had frozen me in place and without my bucking there was nothing to stop Mrs. Hurst from her nefarious plan. With a twist and a push the frighteningly large plug was embedded in my rectum.

That certainly got my attention and I immediately tried to expel the intruder. A smack on my bottom and a commanding “No” soon put a stop to that though. “You are a feisty one aren’t you. Definitely in need of a firm hand.”

Next she ensured that I would be unable to push the tail-plug out by fastening a strap between my legs. It descended from the belt at my belly, neatly but firmly, between my labia and then trapped the plug before being fastened to a small strap that was attached to the belt behind me. Once she’d tightened the strap to her satisfaction – causing me to yelp out loud through my bit as it dug into the sensitive flesh of my pussy – I felt the material of what I now knew was to be my tail brushing against my legs as she clipped it some how to the base of the plug.

This had to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. I felt like I would die of shame. Of course its silly to think of that now. My imagination just had not yet caught up with possibilities since I, at that time, could not imagine that there could be something more embarrassing than having a tail plugged into my bum. How naïve I was. If anything that moment was really very tame compared with what was to come, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Mrs. Hurst then took a gentle but firm hold of my shoulders. “Up you get,” she said as she helped me straighten back up. The horrid tail swishing behind me and that, to me, enormous plug penetrating my bottom. The movement made it feel worse than it had when she’d forced it into my body. How could those girls put up with this treatment, I thought. At the same time though I felt the strap between my labia move minutely. It grazed ever so slightly against my tender clitoris. I would have gasped if I hadn’t been gagged by the bit.

Almost absent-mindedly she reached up and tweaked one of my hard nipples. “You clearly like your tack don’t you, eh? I know it’s all still new for you and you’ve got to get used to a lot of new sensations, but its obvious to me that you were born to be pony. Your hot little virgin pussy and these taut nipples shout it even more loudly than your asking to join the club.”

Her finger continued to caress the soft flesh of my breast, stroking gently across the marble surface to the nub. I couldn’t believe the amazing feelings that her touch was eliciting. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, I didn’t want to join the club, but the waves of pleasure rushing from my breast every time her fingers gently gripped and slightly tugged on my nipple caused my resolve to weaken. I began to doubt myself. Maybe she was right, after all I’d just ‘enjoyed’ my first orgasm while being bound up as a ponygirl and I’d never felt sensations like those that racked my body since I’d innocently started to undress for Mrs. Hurst. Each time though that that forbidden though entered my mind I pushed it aside, no she’s wrong, I would tell myself. Each time though a wonderful light squeeze on my nipples melted my thoughts.

When she turned her attention instead to my other breast my mind was reeling with confusion. All the time she was softly telling me, “You’re a lovely ponygirl,” “I am so proud of you,” “You love this don’t you,” “This is what you’ve been looking for, for so long, isn’t it”. In my clouded mind I wasn’t really registering what she was saying, but her soft tone was very comforting. My eyes had drifted closed as she touched me and I revelled in the new feelings. On one level I knew that I should be protesting loudly at what she was doing to me, but each touch and word were so pleasant and soothing that I held off for a few more moments.

All the torment and embarrassment of the plug and tail seemed to have evaporated and the moments without me complaining extended until it seemed that it would be silly to protest now, and besides the plug didn’t hurt that much and it was just part of the ponygirl outfit. She’d just done her job of registering me, I thought, I’m the one who deceived her, if there’s anything sinister here then it’s my subterfuge.

“Now then, these pert teats are ready,” she announced giving each of my nipples one final pinch. Then without ceremony or further comment I felt two sharp stabs of pain. My eyes shot open in shock and I saw two delicate plastic tipped metal clips gripping both of my nipples. I could only grunt behind the bit. I instinctively attempted to jerk away from the pain but of course I couldn’t get away from it. All I did was cause the clips to swing slightly and tug more against my abused flesh. Worse though was the little tinkle that came from the small spherical bell attached to the bottom of each clip.

“Wonderful aren’t they. They’ll announce your progress and anyone who hears them will look to see the beautiful ponygirl.” She said it so sincerely that I could believe that she really meant it. To her it wasn’t yet one more horrendous humiliation but a nice touch to draw admiring attention.

I needed to tell her that she was wrong. I needed to get the clips off my nipples. I began to shake my breasts from side to side trying to shake off the little devils, but of course all I managed to do was make them tug even more violently and painfully on my poor nipples and creating a soft peal of musical tinkles as the bells accompanied my endeavours.

“Oh, you like them don’t you!” Mrs. Hurst said with a pleased tone. “Proud of your nice titties aren’t you, and rightly so. I’ll make a note in your file saying how much you love nipple bells.”

No! I wanted to scream, she’s completely misunderstood me. It seemed that every signal I tried to send her to get her to stop, she would mistake as happiness. So I resolved to stay calm and try not to compound the mistake I’d made by coming here by appearing more enthusiastic.

“What an excellent find,” she murmured to herself as she made the incriminating note on her pad. When she finished, she turned back to me and said “Now then, just your boots to do I think and then we’re finished with the tack.” I felt immensely relieved that the end was now in sight, and that if all that was left was as straightforward as boots.

She quickly checked my shoes for size and then opened a cupboard and rummaged around inside.

Of course the boots turned out to be strange ones, unsurprisingly rather like the pair the blonde ponygirl had been wearing earlier. They were high heeled, but without a heel, instead they had a metal instep that arched the sole of the boot. The metal bracket attached to what appeared to be horse shoe that swept back. It took the place of the heel in ensuring that the boot wouldn’t topple over. I guessed from the shape of the instep that the boot was the equivalent of a four or five inch heel. I’d worn a few sandals with three inch heels, but nothing as high as four, let alone anything like this strange boot.

Without the use of my hands I had little choice but to follow her instructions as she guided my right foot into the first boot. She took firm hold of my foot and calf and placed it into the boot’s leather grip before zipping it up encasing my calf to just below my knee. It felt very strange as I put my weight on to my right foot. My weight was taken on the ball of my foot and my toes, but the leather was tight and I could feel my sole and heel moulding against the firm base of the boot. Unlike a traditional high heeled boot I could feel my heel dipping under my weight as the metal instep flexed.

Mrs. Hurst didn’t give me time to get used to the boot before moving onto my left foot. In a few moments I was standing at least four inches taller than before in the strange footwear.

I’d already been taller than the other woman, but now I felt like I towered above her. It didn’t give me any sense of power or superiority though. I think it would be hard for anyone dressed, or rather undressed, and bound like I was to have any feelings of power.

“Good. I think they’re a good enough fit. Of course you’ll have to get some custom ones made, these aren’t a good enough fit for racing or anything too strenuous, but should be fine for today. Lets see you walk back and forth a few times to make sure they’re OK.”

With that I found myself gingerly walking the four or five paces across the small tack room. I was terrified that I’d fall over, if I did I wouldn’t be able to stop my fall with my hands. Mrs. Hurst didn’t seem too concerned though and luckily I made it across the room without trouble.

The boots completely changed my gait, I found my hips swinging more than usual, but that could have been the plug I supposed. The swing caused my tail to swing and brush across the back of my thighs. It was only then that I realised that I thought of it as ‘my’ tail rather than something external to me, something that had been done to me. On each step those infuriating little bells rang out lightly as my unencumbered breasts jiggle slightly.

The worst of it though was the way that the thin crotch strap tugged slightly on each step. It wasn’t enough to rub anything or cause discomfort, but it was enough for me to notice and keep my mind focused on my still engorged clitoris.

She had me walk back and forth a few more times and I became more confident. The boots actually felt more stable than my lower heeled sandals. I guessed it was the way that the horse shoe provided a wider area than a traditional heel and thus meant that it was easier to keep my centre of gravity above the stable base.

Once she was happy with my performance I found myself standing by the white wall. It was then that I saw that she’d once more picked up the camera. I almost panicked. She couldn’t take a photo of me dressed like this, that was just too much and I started to step forward. I wasn’t sure what I could do to stop her.

However, her commanding voice once more stopped me. “Stand still! I need a photo for your file,” as if that made everything all right. What could I do anyway. She quickly took a couple of pictures. “You make a beautiful ponygirl, and should be proud. I know this is all new to you but I’ve gone through this lots of times with young women just like you. It will all be OK,” she reassured me. Then she had me turn sideways and took another photograph and finally a rear view. I realised too late that these would clearly show my tail and was mortified.

That paled into insignificance in my mind though when after Mrs. Hurst had put aside her pad and picked up a long leash and a riding crop. She clipped the leash on to the front of my collar and tugged on it saying “Come along, you’re finished. I’ll file all the paperwork and you can go and join all the fun.” I was horrified as I realised that she meant for me to go outside as I was, as a ponygirl.

I did my best to plant my feet and strained so that she couldn’t pull me forward, couldn’t pull me out to the sunshine and ultimate embarrassment. Mrs. Hurst was having none of it though.

“Come on now. You don’t want to miss the fun. I know you’re a little shy and nervous about your first time out in your tack, but we both know that you love it.” She reached down between my legs and ran her fingers along my still slick labia and then pushed firmly against the strap that separated them right over where it rubbed against my clitoris. That caused me to involuntarily buck my hips against her hand. “You’re soaking wet! It’s just a little nerves, I can understand that, but we don’t have all day and besides ponygirls don’t get to decide where they go and when. You’ll just have to get used to being obedient, otherwise this delicious bum of yours is going to take on a permanently rosy glow.” As she said that she brought the crop down firmly against it causing me to jerk forward away from the sudden pain.

She tugged once more on the leash and this time I took a step forward. My mind was screaming at me to think of something. I couldn’t go outside like this, but it was also obvious to me that I couldn’t stay here. I was sure that Mrs. Hurst would tan the hide of my bottom too, before she’d change her mind.

One step became two and then three and I was watching her open the door and tug on the leash to lead me out into the warm sunny late morning before I could find a solution to my dilemma. A quick tap of her crop spurred me to take the final fateful step into the courtyard.

Chapter 6

I blinked my eyes as I became accustomed to the bright sunlight after the dimness of the tack room. I know that I blushed all over my exposed naked body as I saw a young man a few metres away who had watched us come out and then taken the few paces over to talk with Mrs. Hurst. He was probably about my age or maybe a year or two younger. In some ways that seemed to be worse than being like this in front of a middle aged woman.

“Ah James, please take this novice filly along to the paddock and pass my apologies onto Mr. Trune. This is the other novice of the day and she was a little late arriving so she missed the initial walk through. Let him know that I’d appreciate it if he could fit her in now instead.”

I couldn’t believe that this was all happening to me. She wanted me to be led by this man, no doubt right into the middle of the people at the show. I would be paraded naked in front of dozens of people. I was trembling in shock. What had I let myself in for? I’d almost convinced myself to accept the indignity of the registration process for the sake of keeping my subterfuge hidden. This was a completely different level though.

“Oh and watch out for her. No experience at all, completely new and a little nervous, but a natural and I’m sure will respond well to a firm hand,” she turned back to me, “isn’t that right dear?” She accompanied that with a firm strike of her crop against my buttocks which led me to do the only thing I could think she’d accept and that was to nod my head in agreement. I tried to copy the exaggerated head movement of blonde ponygirl’s nod from earlier. 

“See, a firm hand and she’ll do what she’s told. I bet she’ll be a pleasure to train. Anyway, can’t stand here chatting all day,” she handed the leash to James, “here you are, now hurry along.”

A shiver convulsed through my body as he grasped the leash and took up the slack, I felt my pussy clench and I gulped realising that I no longer had any control over what happened. I’d willingly gone with Mrs. Hurst into the tack room, but now it seemed that it was up to her and now James to decide where I went. I hadn’t realised it at the time that each small step took me further. I’d always thought that I still had some control over the situation. Now I had no power to stop it. She had given me over to James without any thought of whether it was something I wanted or not.

I knew that they would put up with no protest from me. They would consider it just nerves from a new ponygirl. Mrs. Hurst had demonstrated that she thought my arousal was a clear indication that I really wanted all this to happen despite my reluctance. The worst of it though was that I was wondering about that too, I couldn’t understand why I was so turned on and why I felt this frisson of excitement as she treated me as no more than a animal who needed to be guided and controlled for her own good.

A tug from the leash confirmed the reality of this new situation. Without a word to me James had turned and began to lead me out of the courtyard. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was leading an essentially naked young woman by a leash. Clearly this was not something novel or strange to him. To me however this was shocking and terrible.

Each step took me further and further away from the safety of the tack room and my clothes within. Each step led me nearer and nearer to dozens of people who would treat me not as the independent woman and professional office manager I was just a few hours ago but as a ponygirl. A girl who loved to be paraded naked, to be controlled by leash and crop, reins and whips. A sexual beast who couldn’t make decisions for herself.

I felt that he ought to somehow acknowledge this titanic change in my position, that he didn’t even seem to bat an eyelid at my predicament made it all the more surreal for me. In some ways it made me feel detached from the situation. My mind was trying to analyse the situation. I could hardly believe that I was allowing myself to be taken like this. Why wasn’t I kicking and screaming? Why was my pussy so wet? Why was I excited as the bells on my nipples tinkled as my bare breasts bounced? Why did I accept the plug and the tail swinging behind me?

The noise of people grew louder as we left the courtyard and suddenly there were people ahead of us. While there were some other ponygirls in the vicinity, most of the people were the patrons of the club and their guests.

In my detached state I wondered what they would make of the new ponygirl being brought into their midsts. Would they admire her or find she didn’t live up to their expectations of beauty. It was strange, but I wanted them to find her attractive, I didn’t want the further humiliation of being rejected.

A few people turned to watch us pass between them but I couldn’t discern their thoughts and no-one made any comments.

Then it hit me that I had allowed myself to be led into the middle of the crowd, I hadn’t baulked at being brought here. I could feel that my pussy was flooded with my juice and I marvelled at my own arousal. I knew that that was why I was here. I wanted more of the intense pleasure I’d been feeling. I had to admit that I loved the orgasm I’d had earlier, I wanted more. I’d always felt too guilty to masturbate and bring myself to orgasm. Now though, I had no control. Mrs. Hurst has forced the orgasm upon me without me having the ability to deny her. I couldn’t feel guilty about that, could I, I tried to rationalise to myself. Losing control meant I also lost the guilt.

“Who do we have here James?” A new voice interrupted my chain of thoughts and I found myself blushing again as the newcomer looked me up and down with obvious interest. He was quite a bit older than me, probably in his fifties judging from the grey hair and faintly lined face. He was a tall man, just a few inches shorter than I was in my boots so I guessed he was a little taller than me normally. He had the broad shoulders of a man who’d worked physically hard through his life. It was clear he wasn’t poor though, since he was immaculately dressed in expensive riding clothes and spoke with a clear upper class accent.

“Mr. Trune, this is the other novice filly sir. Mrs. Hurst sent her over,” James passed on all of the instructions from Mrs. Hurst as the older man walked around me and examined me closely though he did not touch me.

“Yes, she is indeed late, the other two have already been presented, but I think I can fit her into the schedule.” I didn’t know what he was talking about and dreaded finding out.

Mr. Trune took the leash from the younger man and tugged me along behind him without a word to me. I was going to have to get used to not being consulted I supposed. In front of us was a cleared roped off paddock. He took my leash and then tied it to one of the posts circling the field.

Most of the people were gathered around the rope watching a ponygirl prance and leap around a course laid out in the paddock. She had pale skin with a sprinkling of freckles all over her body and a beautiful shock of red hair gathered into the ubiquitous pony tail. Her harness and boots were in a bright red leather. She looked magnificent.

Her movements were very graceful as she stepped around the cones and leapt over the bars and fences following a carefully laid line. She raised each knee high for every careful deliberate step. It was a display of poise, control and skill. Every time she successfully negotiated an obstacle, without knocking a ball off a cone, a bar off a fence or ringing a bell threaded on a ribbon she stepped over, the crowd gave polite applauds.

Her display came to an end and a male voice came over a loud speaker, “That was Firebird. Her time was four minutes, twenty five seconds with four faults, and a score of eight point seven for artistic presentation. A good score which puts her in the silver position so far.”

A man entered the paddock, attached reins to Firebird’s bridle and led her from the field as another man led a dark haired, dusky skinned pony into the paddock. She was shorter than Firebird with more muscular legs, but a graceful and seductive gait in her very high ‘heeled’ boots. Unlike Firebird and me, she had a tight leather corset constricting her waist and her hands were both fastened to it at her side rather than behind her.

“Next is Comet from Adam Frobisher’s stable. She’s a twenty two year old filly and favourite for the four hundred metres. Lets see how she handles the dressage.”

I watched in fascination as Comet followed the same course that Firebird had. I heard a few bells as she caught ribbons. The crowd remained appreciative, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to score as well as her predecessor. Another four pony’s followed, all graceful and beautiful in their own way, though none of them scoring as well as Firebird who was awarded the silver rosette behind a pony called Comanche.

All through this display, I couldn’t help but worry that I would be forced to do something similar and I knew that there was no way I could perform like that.

Chapter 7

“And now a special treat for you all,” the loud speaker announced, “we have another novice to present.” My heart began to race. Mr. Trune was once more besides me and he unfastened the leash from my collar, only to replace it with a much longer one of soft rope. He was carrying a horse whip in his other hand.

“I expect you to do exactly as you are told.” he said, “Since you were late you missed the training session I gave the other two novices earlier, before their presentation. Mrs. Hurst mentioned you needing a firm hand, well I can reassure you that if you are disobedient then I will certainly apply the correction that you need. I do not expect to be shamed by a shoddy display from a untrained filly with poor timekeeping.” I paled at his harsh words. I knew that if I didn’t try my best then he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to use the whip to correct me.

“Come along,” he said as he led me through a gap in the rope fence and into the paddock.

“She’s a complete novice,” announced the public address system, “so this is her very first training session. As usual, Francis Trune, will walk her through her paces. Lets have a round of applause for ‘Isabelle’.”

My insides were churning. I supposed I could make a break for it and run, but where could I possibly go? However, if I allowed this man to ‘walk me through my paces’ I would be demonstrating that I was a willing ponygirl.

Mr. Trune walked me to the centre of the paddock which had been cleared of the dressage course. He took a quick bow. He played out the leash and took up position facing me about three or four metres away.

“Now you will walk around me in a clockwise direction,” he announced loudly so that not only I could hear him but the spectators too. I nervously followed his instruction and started to walk around him.

“Keep the rope tight,” was accented by a lash of the whip, expertly applied with a flick of the wrist, across my buttocks. I made sure that I edged outwards slightly so that the rope remained tight as I continued my circuit. The whip wasn’t especially painful, but I certainly didn’t want him to continue to use it on me.

“Now, raise you knees as you walk so that they come up to be level with your hip.” I tried to obey, but was quickly rewarded with another flick of the whip, “higher!” This was followed quickly by, “I said higher,” and the whip landed more firmly. I was now raising my knees very high as I pranced, and that seemed to satisfy him.

I managed to settle into a rhythm and was pleased that the whip didn’t make contact again.

After a few circuits, he made me change direction and go the other way around him.

“Keep your chin up and look straight ahead, not at your feet,” another flick of the whip. I was confident enough now that when I looked straight ahead I didn’t feel that I was going to twist my ankle and fall sprawling onto the grass. Now that I was looking ahead I was almost surprised to see the gathered people watching my training. I’d been so focused on what I was doing to avoid the whip that I’d forgotten that I was on display. It immediately brought a flush of embarrassment and I hesitated for a moment. The whip though soon had me walking again.

Half way around the circle, I stopped again and was once more spurred into action by a firm smack of the whip. This time my hesitation was because I saw the group from RS Systems in the spectators all watching me including Mr. Hanson and Mr. Stirling. I suddenly felt immense humiliation. They were all standing there drinking champagne, watching me prance around with Mr. Trune guiding me with his nasty whip, and they were clearly chatting and commenting about me. That made my heart pound in my chest. I wondered what they were saying and I knew I couldn’t possible go and work with them now. It would be bad enough talking with them when I was released from this bondage and returned to them later, let alone in the office next week.

“Now trot.” A quick succession of light strokes of the whip got me to break into a jog and I soon stopped worrying about next week. I had enough trouble placing one foot in front of the other, keeping my knees up and maintaining the pace he was setting for me. The pace made my breasts bounce on my chest and the awful bells chime as they jerked from side to side. I was just thankful that my breasts weren’t any larger otherwise it would have been very painful.

He made me increase my pace a couple of times until I was almost running and beginning to pant heavily around the bit, my flared nostrils no longer sufficient to suck in enough air. Then to my great relief he said “And walk.”

Even though I was quite tired now, he still insisted that I continue to prance, raising my knees as I walked.

The training session continued for what felt like an hour, but in hindsight it was probably only about fifteen minutes. I was made to change direction a few times and trot a couple more times. I was exhausted when at last he said, “stop,” and stood there panting. I hardly registered the applauds as I was led back out of the paddock. In fact I was just having difficulty walking let alone being able to take notice of my surroundings.

I was relieved when we finally stopped and I could get my breath back, then grateful when Mr. Trune held a bottle of water to my mouth. He squeezed it slowly and steadily, squirting the cool and refreshing liquid past my bit. I gulped it down realising that I was very thirsty. It was embarrassing to think that I had to rely on him to give me water, in my bondage I couldn’t do anything for myself, and this was further emphasised to me when he withdrew it leaving me still wanting more.

Chapter 8

I had now recovered enough to be able to take in my surroundings. We were a little way from the paddock standing in a track between two rows of open-sided tents. They looked like market stalls offering various goods for sale. From where I was standing I couldn’t see a lot, but the stall nearest me looked like it was selling leather straps of various widths and colours. One a little further away had boots on display. To my left there was a gap in the tents with three posts set up. Two young ponygirls, no older than twenty, stood in front of two of the posts. They stood erect with their legs quite wide apart. I blushed in sympathetic embarrassment for them, their pose was definitely a notch more humiliating than seemed ‘normal’ for ponygirls. I wondered if they were being punished or something.

The first was almost as tall as me with long dark hair, which was almost black. She had a lovely golden tanned skin with no obvious tan lines. Her breasts stood out proud on her chest and she definitely had more in that department than I did. She stood calmly, almost serenely, obviously enjoying the attention that she was drawing.

The second was a little plumper and more nervous than the other. She quivered a little and kept her gaze fixed on the floor in front of her. I could see that she kept trying to close her legs, but that they were fastened apart. She had short brown hair including a mass of unruly pubic hair. I realised that she was the first ponygirl I’d seen with short hair. Her large soft breasts were squeezed into a tight harness and, like me, her nipples were capped with little bells.

I was embarrassed to find myself admiring her. She was nervous and yet had the confidence and bravery to present herself like this. In a way it made me a bit ashamed at the way I had reacted. If this girl could put up with being dressed as a ponygirl, despite her nerves, then I could too.

I was a little surprised though when Mr. Trune led me the empty post besides the nervous pony. In moments I was fastened to the post with my legs humiliatingly wide apart, a mirror image of the other two ponies.

“There, ‘Novice Row’ is complete.” Mr. Trune said to no-one in particular. Then to me, “now, be a good little filly and stand there calmly. I’m sure you’ll get lots of attention from the members, they always like to examine any new ponies, but I think they’ll want to pay particular notice to you.”

My heart sank when he said that. I’d hoped that my ordeal would be over but it seemed that it was just going to get worse. I was now on display and about to be ‘examined’. What was worse though was that I could feel my pussy clenching with pleasure at the thought and was ashamed to think how my body was reacting to everything that had happened so far today.

Mr. Trune gently patted my thigh, saying “you’ll do”, and then turned and strode away, clearly with somewhere more important to be. He left me alone with my thoughts and I realised that this was the first time I’d had alone since we’d got there. The morning had been a roller coaster ride for me. This morning I could never have imagined that I’d be standing bound and naked, with legs wide apart, waiting to be examined like an animal, or that I’d be extremely aroused by it all, having had my first ever orgasm. Each step that had led me to this moment had seemed logical and acceptable until I had no choice and had to go along with each further humiliation.

I looked down Novice Row at my two companions. I realised that I’d mentally dubbed them ‘nervous pony’ and ‘confident pony’ in lieu of knowing their real names. Then I felt ashamed once more. I was already accepting them as ponygirls rather than real people, I wondered if they thought the same about me. I pondered both girls, they seemed so different. If I’d met them in the street I would never have thought that they had anything in common, but both girls were here like me: naked ponygirls.

As I considered our situation and wondered how the other two girls had come to be here, I could hear the odd announcement over the public address system: for races, training demonstrations, sulky races (whatever they are I thought to myself). We were left alone for an hour or so as the ponygirl meeting carried on around us. In many ways it  felt like a little anti-climax. The morning had been non-stop. From the initial shock of discovering the true nature of the club, through the registration process and finally the public training session. I’d felt like I was the centre of attention.

Now though everyone had left me alone. It seemed like I was unimportant, not worth the bother. As the time went by I realised that to them I was just a ponygirl, one amongst many. They would come and attend to me when they wanted, I had no say in the matter, I just had to wait until they came.

Then I heard another announcement and a shiver went down my spine. “That was the last race of the day, but of course there’s plenty to do while the judges look over the ponies and decide on which ones will be awarded today’s prizes. All the stalls are still open and Jeremy Lawson will be giving a demonstration of harness making in the main marquee. Last but not least, we have our three new fillies presented on Novice Row.”

It was only a few moments before people started to walk amongst the tents and stalls and of course they all paused to look at the three of us. I was quivering with fear as the first people approached me. They were a couple, a smartly dressed grey haired man probably in his sixties with a similarly aged lady. They paused directly in front of me and before looking me over they referred to a piece of paper they were carrying.

“Oh marvellous!” she exclaimed, “it says here that she’s a virgin. What a wonderful find.” She had a slight French accent when she spoke. If it was possible, I blushed more than ever before. My most intimate secrets had been printed on an information sheet. As she read further, it became apparent that all of my registration information, and more, had been distributed.

As she continued to read, the gentleman stepped forward and began to look me up and down. Then he reached out and ran his hand up and down my thigh squeezing my flesh. His grip was very firm and fastened as I was there was no way I could escape him.

“Good muscle tone, but clearly needs more training. Definitely has potential.” I was shocked once again at the way I was just being treated like an animal. Here I was a naked woman, my charms on full display to everyone, and this man was commenting on the strength of my thighs.

His hands then moved up to my hips and then waist. “Good, good.”

For some reason though, the perfunctory way that he was examining me was having an effect. I could feel butterflies fluttering in my belly. The clamps on my nipples seemed to get tighter and the strap separating my labia pressed harder against my swollen labia and clitoris.

He was joined by her companion who after performing her own examination also seemed pleased. It was so embarrassing to be treated like that.

These two were followed by others. Each reading the sheet and then spending a few moments to look me over. Some, like the first couple, would examine me, others moved on quickly to the other two girls.

I soon discovered what a pony sulky was though, when a gorgeous black ponygirl pulled one along the track in front of us. The man who was currently examining me said that he’d love to harness me to a sulky and drive me around his farm. Of course I couldn’t say anything and I just blushed once more, which unfortunately he took to be my ascent to his idea. He just laughed and said “yes, you’d enjoy that wouldn’t you,” squeezing my breast in emphasis.

The sulky was being driven by a young black man, and I wondered if he was her boyfriend, and indeed whether ponies had boyfriends or just owners. That though for some reason caused my belly to turn over with the butterflies churning away inside.

All the attention was getting me extremely hot and bothered. I could feel that my inner thighs were wet with my juices. I was soon feeling quite light headed. Hands caressed and stroked and groped me. There were numerous comments about how lovely I was, about how I made such a beautiful filly, that they wanted to see me race. My breasts were held and shaken, the bells tinkling to compound my shame. I found it all so overwhelming. My eyes drifted shut, I just couldn’t handle the sensations.

Hands came and went, calloused, soft, rough and smooth. I was soon once more approaching the amazing feelings that had preceded my earlier orgasm. A skilled pair of hands was teasing me ever closer and closer. I had lost all sense of time and no longer cared where I was or what was happening. I just wanted another of those fantastic orgasms.

However, I was abruptly brought back to the here and now when the female owner of those hands whispered in my ear: “You’re a randy little bugger aren’t you. All hot and wet and ready to go!”

I immediately recognised the voice, even though I’d only heard it once, a few hours ago. It was April, the girl who worked for Mr. Stirling. My eyes shot open and I found the beautiful young brunette standing right in front of me, one of her hands on my left breast the other toying with the wet strap between my legs. Her dark eyes sparkling with pleasure as she manipulated my body. I was extremely embarrassed. Everyone before had been total strangers, well April was a stranger too, but she’d met me when I was fully dressed and she knew Mr. Stirling; I imagined she’d been chatting with Mr. Hanson too.

At that moment, I saw both Mr. Stirling and Mr. Hanson approaching me. April gave my crotch strap one last tug and stepped away before the men saw her touching me. That, together with the intense embarrassment of knowing that Mr. Hanson, my friend and mentor, believed me to be an eager and willing ponygirl, sent me over the edge and another glorious orgasm overwhelmed my body.

I was still groaning into my bit and shaking from the intense pleasure when the men stopped in front of me. My nipple bells jingled quietly only adding to my shame. My head drooped forward but I could still see them looking me over. Mr. Hanson was blushing a deep red as he candidly eyed my nude form. He couldn’t take his eyes off me and I wondered if he’d ever fantasied about me during the time we’d worked together. He seemed both shocked and aroused.

His troubled emotions were a complete contrast to Mr. Stirling. He was calm and completely in control. He wasn’t shocked or surprised, he was used to seeing ponygirls. It was Mr. Stirling who stepped forward first and stroked the back of his hand against my cheek.

“See Andrew, I told you that she was having the time of her life. As I said I’ve seen plenty of young women who have harboured a secret desire to try out as a ponygirl. Isabelle here is just like them all.” As he spoke he reached out and gently caressed the side of my breast, just as I had done to the blonde ponygirl earlier.

“She’s been desperate to do this. You remember how eager she was to accompany you today.” He now reached down behind me and began to stroke his hand across my naked buttocks.

“Why don’t you come a little closer. It’s obvious that she wants you to see her for what she really is: A passionate ponygirl. She doesn’t want to deny her true feelings any longer.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Why would he say this to Mr. Hanson?

“That’s right isn’t it Isabelle. You’re loving this, aren’t you?” I was about to shake my head to strongly deny what he was saying when I suddenly felt him grasp the horrid tail that was firmly embedded in my rectum. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. We’re all friends here. You love being a ponygirl.” He emphasised what he was saying with movements of the tail. Each movement was painful and I knew what was needed if I was to avoid even more pain. I nodded my head. Following another little tug I made my nodding more vigorous.

As I nodded I could see a look of relief spread across Mr. Hanson’s face. It was as though a worry had been lifted from mind. I cursed for allowing myself to be so easily manipulated. Mr. Stirling knew how to pull the right strings, literally, to get me to do what he wanted.

Mr. Hanson nervously stepped closer and Mr. Stirling released his grip on my tail. Meanwhile his other hand returned to my breast.

“Ponies love to be touched. Caress her breast, like this,” he stroked the back of his hand against my flesh. Still unsure of himself, Mr. Hanson tentatively reached out and mirrored his actions against my other breast. It sent an involuntary shiver down my spine to be touched like that.

“See how she reacts. A natural filly,” and I blushed again. “But I think there is a more obvious proof.”

Mr. Stirling reached down to my crotch. I dreaded his touch there and what he would find. To my surprise though, instead of feeling my damp labia split by the strap, he actually unbuckled it and gently peeled it away from my sex. I grunted with surprise.

After April’s earlier touch, my pussy was filled with my juices which now flowed freely causing me more intense embarrassment. This was heightened further when his hand reached down to feel my now unrestricted pussy and found that it was soaking. He caressed his rough fingers back and forth a couple of times causing me to grunt into my bit.

“See, she is dripping wet she’s so aroused.” His hand came away glistening. “Touch her and see for yourself,” he goaded Mr. Hanson. My boss, nervous and unsure, hesitated for a moment. He was clearly unsure about whether it was right for him to touch me or not. He’d been brought up to know that one should not touch a woman unless she invites it. Now though he wasn’t sure, Mr. Stirling had just reached out and touched me and the sky hadn’t fallen in.

His eagerness and desire though overcame his nerves. He reached forward and placed his hand gently on my slippery pussy. He softly caressed  my most private parts and humiliatingly I couldn’t stop myself thrusting my hips forward to ride his hand. This obviously surprised him and he withdrew his hand quickly.

“She absolutely loves it, doesn’t she,” Mr. Stirling commented as Mr. Hanson looked at his wet hand.

Mr. Stirling reached down once more and began to stroke around my clitoris. Even though I’d only orgasmed a few minutes earlier after April’s caresses, I was immediately back to full arousal. It didn’t take many more strokes to push me over the edge once more into my third ever orgasm. I couldn’t believe how I was reacting to this bizarre day. I rode his hand through my climax. I felt so wanton, so slutty. I was naked in public and coming on the hand of my new boss.

Before I recovered, Mr. Stirling had grabbed the strap and once more buckled it tightly, splitting my pussy. If anything it was tighter than before, but at that moment I didn’t care since I was still riding the waves of pleasures.

“Andrew, I think we should leave her to enjoy the rest of the day. Now that we’ve signed the contract we can go and enjoy the hospitality in the main marquee.”

I was confused. I’d expected to be released but it seemed that they were going to leave me here to be poked and prodded by everyone else.

I knew though that no matter what happened during the rest of the day I could not go to work with Mr. Stirling next week. I’d just completely humiliated myself. I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye without remembering the way he’d touched me so intimately and driven me to the intense pleasure of an orgasm.

They turned away from me and left me stewing in my own juices as it were.

My mind was a whirr with everything that had and was happening to me. As I’d feared more people came by and I was examined and scrutinised by them all. I supposed I was relieved that no-one else unfastened my crotch strap, but quite a few did reach between my legs. They would caress and pull on my labia stretching them either side of the cruel strap. To my shame each of them found me soaking wet and most commented on it. My breasts were squeezed and weighed. They aren’t very large but they still received quite a mauling over that hour or so, always accompanied by the tinkling of the wicked little chimes attached to my constantly hard nipples.

However, it seemed that my feminine assets weren’t the only thing that my tormentors were interested in. As well as commenting on how aroused I was, they all felt my legs. They tested the muscle tone in my thigh and calves. If anything this examination was more embarrassing that the overt sexual touches. It showed me that they were interested in me as a ponygirl instead of as an attractive young woman. They were checking out my body with a view to whether I’d be a good racing pony or have the endurance to pull a pony sulky. They made no secret of the purpose of their examination.

“She has good bone structure and the muscles seem good and strong,” one commented. “She needs some good hard training though before she’ll be a competitive racing pony,” his companion added. “Yes, but I think she’s got the potential.”

A pair of women, probably both in their late forties, had me untied from my splayed position by a young groom. They had me walk back and forth a few times, the taller one using a riding crop to correct me whenever I didn’t perform to their exacting standards.

“Well Melissa, this filly seems to have some capability for a novice. I would like to see how she pulls a sulky, but I expect that she’ll be fine.”

Melissa responded, “Hmm, I don’t know if she’ll be strong enough or have enough endurance for more than a couple of laps of the circuit. Now, this one,” she indicated my nervous fellow novice, “looks like she could pull a sulky for a few hours.”

With that I was repositioned and bound while the groom put the ‘nervous pony’ through some paces, much to the enjoyment of the two ladies.

The flow of people eventually began to die down as people drifted off and preparations were clearly being made for the awards ceremony that had been mentioned. I hoped that my ordeal would now be over.

Indeed ‘confident pony’, who’d clearly enjoyed the attention she’d received, was unfastened and led away by a young man not much older than she was, again I wondered: boyfriend or owner?

Chapter 9

I expected Mr. Trune to come and get me, but to my further humiliation it was April who came to unfasten me.

“Well, I suppose we better get you sorted out then.”

I was surprised when she brought a padded leather blindfold up to my face and quickly wrapped it around my head blocking out all light.

“In my opinion, inexperienced ponies like you need to be blinkered so that they can concentrate on doing what they are told.” She didn’t sound condescending, she just said it matter of factly as if it was evidently true.

I’d always thought that blinkers allowed a pony to look ahead and only ahead, but it seemed that April believed that a blinkered pony should not be able to see at all, that a blind pony would have to rely on her handler for everything. Having been unfastened once more from the post, I began to understand that it would be an excellent training technique. She commanded me to “walk on” and after some sharp smacks with her tawse I had to walk forward and trust that she would not allow me to walk into something or stumble.

I was extremely nervous about this new turn of events. I had no idea where I was going. I hoped it was back to the tack room so that I could be dressed again and put an end to this ordeal.

I found myself being turned left and right at what seemed like April’s whim, always emphasised by a tap of the tawse of my left or right buttock. I could hear people talking as we passed them, or they passed us. I found myself walking on softer ground, then back to hard ground and then onto soft ground once more.

“Good girl,” she complimented me each time I negotiated a turn to her satisfaction. “You’re learning quickly, excellent.”

It seemed to me that April was promenading me around the show. Was I being shown off some more? I couldn’t imagine that there was anyone who hadn’t already seen me and examined me thoroughly. It did cross my mind that apart from my mother and doctors the only people to see me naked were the folk here.

The noise of the people died down and I wondered where she was taking me. My heart beat faster as I remembered that the tack room was away from the crowd. “At last,” I thought to myself.

April brought me to a halt and then told me that I was about to walk up a slight incline. I was confused. I couldn’t remember a ramp at the tack room earlier. A tap of the tawse on my reddened buttock accompanied by the now familiar “walk on” had me taking a tentative step forward.

It was definitely a ramp, wooden by the sound my boot made on it. It turned out to be quite short and I was soon halted inside a small room, from the sound of the echoes. April was up the ramp behind me, brushed passed me and I could hear her arranging something.

“Let’s get you sorted out.”

She pulled me forward a couple of steps and off to one side besides a wall. She guided me to stand with my feet either side of a lump on the floor. With no sight I couldn’t see what it was.

I felt her unbuckling the crotch strap. “Thank god,” was all I could think.

“Still randy I see,” she chuckled as she felt between my legs. “Lets get this tail out,” and it was with great relief that I felt her pulling on the evil plug that had been my constant companion for hours now. Once it was removed, it left an empty feeling inside and I hoped that it hadn’t ruined my bottom for ever.

“OK, now I need you to get down onto your knees.” She held me gently to ensure that I didn’t fall over as she guided me down. It was a little awkward but I managed it. I could feel the length of the lump against my legs. I was surprised when I felt April tighten a strap around my left ankle and then again for my right one. Whatever she had in mind I was going to be staying here, at least for now.

Then she told me to sit back slowly. I felt her guiding my bottom downwards. Then a moment of shock hit me. I could feel a protrusion pushing between my cheeks and she guided it against my anus. It was apparently attached to the lump between my legs. I reacted with shock and tried to push up away from it.

“Now, now,” April chided me, “lets not spoil it now. You’ve been a good filly for me so far.” She applied pressure on my shoulders and in the position I was in I didn’t have much leverage to prevent what was coming. I put up a little struggle but in moments the new plug pushed passed my sphincter and pressed deeper and deeper. Eventually it was fully embedded within me and my buttocks rested on the smooth lump between my legs. It was shaped so that it cupped my buttocks behind me and rose up between my legs in front conforming to the curves of my body.

The new intruder felt larger than my tail had been and was extremely uncomfortable. When the pressure was removed from my shoulders I tried to rise off it, only to be pushed back down with an admonishment from April.

Then I felt her fiddling behind me, followed by some pressure on the rear of my belt. I realised that she had buckled a new strap to it and my fears were confirmed when I tried to rise once more. The strap held me down tightly on the plug.

“Good, now you sit still and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I heard her walking away and down the ramp as she said this. I was worried to be left alone in darkness and helpless. At least earlier I had been aware of my environment. Now I could be anywhere and anyone could be watching me, anyone could come and take advantage of me and I wouldn’t even know who they were.

These thoughts preyed on my mind constantly for the next few minutes. I imagined how I must look, bound, gagged, blindfolded and kneeling. Would anyone watching me know that my bottom was plugged by the huge invader?

I was agitated and I heard my nipple bells tinkling as I shook my body trying to find some give in my bonds. I imagined that my watchers would be laughing behind their hands as they watched me struggle and that just made me struggle more to try and get free. Unfortunately I could not break the straps or even loosen them in the slightest. My movements were severely restricted though. The plug in my arse made it impossible to move my hips more than a centimetre or two. All I did was end up rubbing my tender pussy against the curved “saddle”, as I came to think of it, between my legs.

I felt like I’d been left alone for ten or fifteen minutes and I began to wonder whether April had left me there, whether she had forgotten about me. Maybe I’d be stuck here I thought. Would I be left here all weekend? Would someone miss me on Monday? Someone would surely find me.

I did my best to calm myself, to hold the panic at bay, but it was growing more and more difficult as the minutes raced by. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Suddenly I heard April’s voice behind me, “You’re at the ramp, walk on.” Then I heard feet on the ramp, echoing loudly, and I realised that she was leading another pony into the small room.

This was confirmed as April led her next to me. I felt April’s trousers brush against my shoulder as she stepped passed me. I heard the other girl kneel besides me and imagined I heard a grunt. Had she just been seated on a plug as I had been. April praised the other girl as she completed binding her in place.

I wondered if she was one of the other novices. I imagined that it was ‘confident pony’. I couldn’t see ‘nervous pony’ calmly allowing herself to be fastened down on the plug as calmly as this pony had been.

“Right then,” April interrupted my thoughts, “let’s get you randy fillies home.”

Relief washed over me. My ordeal was over at last. Part of me was disappointed. I’d been introduced to the wonder of orgasms. It had been an amazing ride but I was glad it was over, I knew I’d spend a long time trying to reconcile my feelings about the humiliating events of the day with the way that I’d reacted to them.

Instead of unfastening me though I heard April walking down the ramp. I was confused, but it was nothing new for the day. However, it was only when I heard the loud clattering and final clangs as she lifted the ramp and locked it in place that I realised I was in a horse box. I was shocked. What was April doing?

The box rocked alarmingly for a few moments as she prepared it for the road. I began to struggle once more and as before I just ended feeling pain in my bottom from the immovable plug and embarrassment from the shaking of the bells.

However, my struggles were halted as soon as the engine started. A deep pulsing vibration leapt to life between my legs. The plug transmitted them deep into my body. Then I felt the box jolt as April pulled away. Every bump and hump resulted in the plug quivering inside me.

It was pretty painful initially as we jounced across the field. Once we hit the tarmac though the pain subsided to be replaced by a low vibration. This began to have an effect on me. To my embarrassment I found myself pressing my crotch onto the saddle. The vibrations were not strong enough though to allow me to reach the pleasure I craved, and the journey just left me hovering in frustration beyond the point I needed to reach.

The journey could have lasted hours for all I knew, I was lost in between rubbing myself against the saddle to try and bring myself to orgasm and panting moments of frustration as I caught my breath after the moments of furious exertion. Eventually the horse box came to a rest.

Chapter 10

I blinked against the bright light when April removed my blinkers at last. I found myself in a warm barn with hay filled stalls.

I’d had to wait still bound onto the anal plug in the horse box while April had unfastened my companion and led her away. After a short while she’d returned and collected me. April had led me, still blinkered, from the horse box, across a cobbled yard and into the barn.

I looked around me and  saw that in two of the stalls were ponygirls. They were naked, without all the straps and accoutrements of the ponies from the show. However, both were wearing short ankle length pony boots, black gloves of some sort and of course the ever present bit and bridle. I was surprised to see that they weren’t bound in any way as far as I could see and appeared to be happy standing in their stalls.

“OK, let’s get you sorted.” April reached down, her hand caressing the wet folds of my pussy, “what a naughty filly you are! We need to get you cleaned up. It’s been a long day for you, a bit overwhelming eh? Be brave, there’s just a little bit more.”

She began unbuckling the straps around my body, my previous hopes that my ponygirl experience would be over didn’t return though. I guessed that April would not have gone to the trouble of driving me here if she didn’t have something else planned for me.

“Now then I’ve got some lovely little mittens for you, just like the other fillies have. You’ll love them,” April said as she took hold of my left hand. “Make a fist for me.” She gently curled my fingers into my palm. Then she began to pull something tight onto my balled up hand. Finally I could feel her buckling the glove so that it couldn’t be removed with its attached wrist strap. Now I looked I could see that the two ponies’ hands were balled into fists within their gloves.

She repeated the process with my right hand and then she began to unfasten my arms. Within a few moments I found myself basically free. When the terrible little bells were removed from my nipples, the pain of the blood returning to my numbed teats was horrendous. I’d never felt anything sting so much and if it hadn’t been for the bit that remained in my mouth I would have screamed. Apart from the bit and it’s bridle around my head I only wore the new gloves, everything else had been removed, even the torturous boots.

It felt great to able to stand flat on my feet again. And with my elbows unbound I was able to stretch the muscles in my shoulders and arms for the first time in hours. I looked at my hands, while April collected the harness, the mittens effectively made my hands useless.

“All this stuff will need to go back to the club, they only lend it to novices.”

I was free for the first time in hours, but I was naked and couldn’t use my hands. My clothes were who knows how many miles away and I had no idea where I was. Part of me wanted to make a break for it and get away, but the rational part of me knew that I couldn’t do that. I had no where to go and besides there was no way I going to go running through the countryside naked (even though I supposed I’d been doing that all day).

“Right, I’m going to remove your bridle, and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you. If I do then I’ll take this whip to your backside and you’ll be sporting this punishment gag before you can say “ponygirls don’t speak”. She held up a wicked looking whip in one hand. In her other hand was a strange dildo shaped contraption, which I thought, if put into my mouth, would force it’s cock right to the back of my throat. I certainly didn’t want to be forced to wear that, as bad as the bit was, this looked much worse. Not to mention having her whip my bum with the whip.

I judged that I could run faster than April. However, I didn’t know where I could go and it seemed that I had to rely on her for anything until I could free my hands. I was also certain that April was stronger than me and that she’d be able to whip me if she wanted.

So I resolved to remain quiet, at least for the time being.

My jaw ached with a vengeance once the evil bit had been removed and my tongue felt very sore, so I wasn’t actually sure that I could have spoken intelligibly had I wanted to anyway.

April gently pulled me over to a tiled corner with a shower head over it. As I  stepped onto the quarry tiled floor I realised that she wanted me to shower in front of her, to wash off the sweat, grime and dust of my humiliating day. However, as embarrassing as it would have been to shower in front of this young woman, the reality turned out to be far far worse.

Instead of turning on the shower for me to use, she filled a bucket with hot soapy water from a tap on the wall and she proceeded to wash me down. April used a rough wash cloth to soap up my bare body.

She washed my back and arms first. I shivered at her touch even though the water was hot. It felt so wrong for someone to be washing me. Worse, it was clear that to her it was just a job to be done, there was no eroticism in it at all.

Then she washed my hair, rubbing the soap into it thoroughly before rinsing it out. That actually felt very good. I love it when the hairdresser washes my hair and grooms it. Even though I was naked and under her control I felt the familiar relaxing pleasure as she pulled a brush through my long tresses.

Next she moved onto my front and spread soap over my breasts. When the rough cloth was rubbed across my still hard nipples I involuntarily let out a loud gasp – they were still very tender from having the clamps on them all day. April shot me a warning glance but continued to wash my breasts.

Then she moved down and onto my bottom. To my continued embarrassment she rubbed the wash cloth roughly between buttocks and over my sensitive, abused, rosebud. It had had much more attention today than in the rest of my life. She concentrated on it saying that it had to be kept clean for my tail. I felt so humiliated.

Happily she moved onto my legs before long and rubbed down my sore leg muscles, firstly thighs and then calves. She lifted each foot in turn and washed each, even paying attention to the gap between each toe.

I had been anticipating her final move since she started applying soap to the wash cloth. I spread my legs a little at her direction and she deftly stroked the recharged material back and forth across my still swollen pussy. As before she knew exactly how to elicit a reaction from me as she rubbed little circles around my clitoris. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning.

She continued to play with me for much more time than she’d spent on any other part of my body. I found my excitement returning quickly as she manipulated my pussy. She had clearly given up the pretence of washing me. April knew precisely what she was doing and I was nearing the orgasm that had been denied me during the long journey from the pony show. The wash cloth was soon discarded and her fingers were directly stroking my soft wet flesh.

I remembered when Mrs. Hurst had touched me in the same way earlier. I was so terribly embarrassed once more. I remembered thinking that that had been the most embarrassing moment of my life, but now it was happening again. I’d never masturbated myself to orgasm but here I was being masturbated by a stranger having already been brought to orgasm multiple times against my will.

April continued to caress me expertly and I unintentionally found myself bucking my hips and pushing my slick pussy onto her probing fingers. To my shame I heard her snort a little laugh as she recognised my burning need and pushed her hand back into my crotch.

In a mirror of my first orgasm I began to hump against her hand, trotting as Mrs. Hurst put it. As my pleasure grew I sped up, all pretence gone that I was an unwilling participant in my masturbation.

However, April had an evil streak. As I began to gallop she withdrew her hand leaving me gasping for more. I was desperate for release and brought my own gloved hand to my crotch to try and complete what she had started. April though quickly slapped my hand away.

“Oh no you don’t. You be a good filly and keep your naughty little hooves away from your randy cunt. Ponies aren’t allowed to touch themselves, their cunts are the properties of their owners. They don’t get to choose when they get to cum. Ponies that perform well may be allowed to cum as a reward, but only with the permission of their betters,” she mocked me and pulled my hands away from my needy pussy.

I groaned and with my body quivering from the denied pleasure I couldn’t resist as she brought my hands behind me once more and used a clip to attach the straps around my wrists together. My brief freedom lost once again.

Chapter 11

April had clearly enjoyed teasing me and then denying me the pleasure of an orgasm. I was in no fit state to resist her, and part of me guessed that it was a technique to make me biddable.

She led me through the barn, past the stalls to the far end where a contraption a little like a vaulting horse stood. It consisted of a padded top that looked like it was suspended between four upright posts.

Slapping my bottom, she had me bend over it. The padded top pressed into my abdomen and just up to below my breasts, which swayed slightly as I found that the top rocked forward a little. By being suspended from the uprights, it could rock back and forth with only a little pressure.

Quickly she pulled a strap over my back, under my bound hands, and buckled it tight to hold me bent over.

Then she went to a long table in front of me. I could see that it was covered in all manner of pony tack. She walked its length and turned on her heel and walked back along it. I watched as she picked up a new bit and bridle.

“No!” I cried when she brought it to my face.

“Be quiet!” She slapped my face suddenly with tremendous force. “I warned you. Now it’s this bit or the punishment gag, open up.” I’d clamped my mouth firmly shut after I’d screamed to prevent her using the bit. Now though I remembered the horrendous looking punishment gag and my resolve wavered.

April took a firm hold of my jaw and once more ordered me to open my mouth. I had been, fooled I supposed is the right word for it, the first time I’d allowed myself to be gagged with a bit. I had no intention of doing so a second time. However, April’s grip was strong but she didn’t force my mouth open. Our eyes locked for a moment and I saw steel in her eyes. She was set with a purpose and would not be denied. I looked away first.

She released her grip and I thought for a second that I had won, only to be rudely disabused of that fact by the painful smack on my bottom.

“I will continue to spank you until you open your mouth and take the bit. I don’t care how long it takes, but you will take the bit. In fact I think you need a good long spanking to teach you that disobedience is not acceptable, so please do be stubborn. In the end I’ll get my way but in the meantime I’ll enjoy spanking this lovely bum.”

I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but I’d have to open my mouth.

Smack! Her hand struck my bottom. The sharp sting was painful, but I felt I could take it. However as the smacks continued the pain began to intensify. I’d never been spanked as a child so this was the first time that I’d experienced anything like this. I couldn’t believe how the pain of her smacks grew with each strike.

My legs flailed behind me but to no avail. I tried to stop her with my bound hands, but she easily avoided them. With each smack I rocked back and forth on the padded top. She spanked me in time with each swing back, pushing me forward for another cycle.

“Enjoying it are you? Your arse is becoming a beautiful rosy pink,” she taunted me. “Soon it’ll be flaming red, just like that randy cunt of yours.”

She was right, my pussy was still on fire from her previous masturbation. I could feel the wetness on my thighs, and despite her spanking the throbbing in my crotch continued. I knew that I was still intensely aroused and that if anything the spanking was contributing to it. I was a little frightened to discover that being helpless and being spanked was turning me on.

The pain though was something else. I soon knew that I couldn’t hold on, that April would defeat me, that she was right – in the end she would get her way. I signalled my defeat by opening my mouth.

“Good girl, good girl,” April immediately stopped the spanking and gave me a soothing stroke along my back.

I think I was sobbing softly when she placed the bit in my mouth and began to buckle the bridle around my head, once more forming a pony tail out of my long honey hair.

“There, that’s not so bad after all is it. You’ll soon learn that life is so much easier if you just do what you are told.”

Now that I was gagged once more, she continued with my bindings. My wrists were unclipped and first the right and then the left were fastened to the front uprights, low down. April then took hold of my right leg and bent it up and over the rear upright. It hurt a bit as she strained my muscles to force my leg into position. It ended up with my foot pressed against the front of the upright with my leg bent. She fastened a strap around my ankle and to the pillar.

She repeated the process with my left leg, effectively spreading my thighs wide apart and exposing my pussy completely. From my position I felt like I must look a bit a frog, legs bent and ready to leap forward. I found if I pushed against the pillars I rocked forward on this strange device; relax and I rocked backward. I could pull with my arms as well to get the same effect.

It was a deeply humiliating position.

April turned to the table and returned with two thin leather straps and these she clipped to the rings at each end of the bit. Finally she laid them across my bare back.

“Such a good filly. I think you’re ready now,” she patted my sore bottom, and as if to demonstrate how open and vulnerable I was she slid her fingers down onto my sopping wet pussy. “Yes, definitely ready,” she laughed. She tapped my exposed clitoris a couple of times and then circled it – round and round - bringing me back to the boil.

“I have to go now, enjoy yourself.”

Once again April left me frustrated.

Chapter 12

April had left me alone. The day seemed to have been moments of intense humiliation accompanied by wonderful sexual stimulation (and frustration at times) separated by long moments of waiting alone. It seemed I was in for more waiting.

It was definitely a moment of frustration. April had worked me up to a frenzy and left me hanging again.

I tried rocking back and forth a bit to see if it would bring any friction to bear on my clitoris. I tried to hump from side to side too, but nothing worked enough to bring me to completion, all it did was continue to leave me frustrated.

I don’t know how long I lay there splayed open on the frame, but after a while I found myself dozing and having strange erotic daydreams combining traditional fantasies and the various events from the day. I guess I was tired out, at least emotionally – though the physical activities had also been quite wearying.

One of the dreams returned me to the embarrassing examinations from Novice Row, I dreamt of people discussing me in the slightly distant way that they had, as if I were just livestock or not present. I can’t remember all of the dreams, but I do remember when I came back to reality with an almighty bump and discovered that I was once more extremely aroused.

I was awoken from my stupor by a hand touching my exposed pussy, gently caressing my delicate petals. At the same time I realised exactly who it was since he was talking.

“Hi Andrew, it’s me Richard.” Mr. Stirling was standing right behind me, touching me, and it seemed that he was talking on the phone with Mr. Hanson. I immediately pushed myself forward away from his insistent fingers. Of course they followed.

“Yes, I just wanted to check that you got home all right. Justin said that he’d dropped you off.” There was a pause in the conversation, obviously Mr. Hanson was saying something. “It’s better to be safe than sorry, after the amount of champagne we drank it was best to get a lift rather than drive yourself;” “No problem, I wanted to say thank you.”

He continued to make small talk, saying what a great deal it was and he was extremely pleased that it had all gone smoothly. It seemed so incongruous for him to be having what seemed like a perfectly normal conversation, meanwhile his fingers were busy fiddling away at the exposed vagina of a naked and bound woman.

“Yes, April told me that she saw Isabelle home safe and sound and told me that she’d had a wonderful time.” I grunted into my bit, I wanted to shout that it was a lie.

“No, it won’t affect her position. I promised you that I would honour everyone’s contracts for at least a year after the deal was signed and I fully intend to do that. Today’s made no difference to that whatsoever. From what I’ve seen of Isabelle,” he trapped my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger as if to emphasis his point, “she’s a quick learner and perfectly suited to the role I have for her. I’m perfectly happy for her to remain in the position she’s currently in.” He squeezed gently on my held clitoris and I couldn’t help moaning through my bit. I bucked and bounced on the horse but couldn’t shake him off.

Hearing him chatting so casually with Mr. Hanson while he masturbated me was driving me crazy. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter by the moment as he stroked me.

“Well I had better go, I’ve got plenty to do tonight before retiring to bed – fingers in pies as they say.” He laughed when he said that and I felt his fingers rubbing my own lubrication around my rapidly swelling pussy. The folds of my thickening labia running between his fingers. He teased them apart and then rubbed a fingertip across my clitoris once more, eliciting a loud moan from my lips, before teasing right at the entrance to my virgin vagina.

“Right, well have a good holiday and enjoy spending my money! Bye.”

“Hmm, yes I do like you in this position,” he was clearly addressing me now, “and it’s obvious that you like it too.” His fingers were moving more rapidly now and I could hear the wet sounds as they played on my sensitive intimate flesh.

“It seems that you’ve been a naughty filly, not doing what your groom told you eh?” I felt him trace his slippery fingers over my still smarting cheeks. “Well you’ll soon learn, especially once you’ve been properly broken in.” As he said that he returned his hand to my pouch and captured my clitoris between two fingers once more. He rubbed it back and forth with a small movement and pressed his palm right against my thick labia. It was enough though to send me rushing back towards the frustrating peak that April had had me circling earlier.

“I am sure that you’re a little confused by everything that’s happened today, so I think I’d better explain some thing.”

“Firstly let me reassure you, I wasn’t lying to Andrew when I said that I would honour the terms of the sale. You will continue to be employed by me as per the contract you had with him at the time of the sale.”

He began to push more firmly against my pubis as he explained, setting up a slow rocking rhythm on the strange stand to which I was bound. Each push ground my soft pussy right against my pubic bone and edged me nearer and nearer to yet another orgasm.

“Oh wait a moment, I’ve just realised something,” he said with mock surprise. It was clear that he hadn’t really just thought of it. He was playing with me. “You signed up at the meet this morning as a new pony registered to Andrew. If I remember correctly,” of course he did, “the pony registration is essentially an employment contract. You became employed by Andrew as his ponygirl when you signed that registration form.”

His fingers now began to rub back and forth over and around and around my tender clitoris as he rocked me forwards and backwards. I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what he was saying, but I still had enough of my wits to feel dread at his words.

“Well, well, well, what a turn of events, that would mean that under the terms of sale, your employment to Mr. Hanson transferred to me,” he pressed a finger gently into the tight entrance of my vagina, “your employment as a ponygirl that is.” He emphasised that by pushing his finger right up against the tissue of my hymen.

I tensed my legs in fear. I didn’t want to rock backwards further, on to his finger, and tear my maidenhead. I moaned a complaint past my bit, but of course it was unintelligible. It turned into a gasp, partly of relief and partly of surprise, when he removed his finger and instead probed my anus.

He was much less gentle though here and there was little I could do to prevent him pushing his middle finger into my bottom - I had pushed myself as far forward as the frame would allow and he just continued to push until his digit was firmly seated.

“I suppose that I had better live up to my commitment to Mr. Hanson then hadn’t I?” He laughed as he began to rhythmically fuck my ass with his finger, pulling me back as he withdrew his finger and pushing me forward again when he thrust it back in.

“But, I warn you, I take my responsibilities very serious. As the owner of a new pony, it is my duty to properly break you in and train you to be the best ponygirl you can be.”

“And I think it’s time now to break you in. It’s time for us to go for a little ride.”

I was getting very nervous as his finger plumbed the depths of my rectum. However, that was immediately replaced by fear when I felt something entirely different pressing against my slit. I realised straight away that it was his penis. He intended to fuck me, to take my virginity. I had imagined this moment many times and never, never had it been like this in the slightest. I’d imagined a handsome gentleman wining and dining me and then the perfect moment of him proposing on one knee. Instead I was bound and gagged, naked and fully exposed in a common barn being treated not like a beautiful and elegant woman but instead like an animal, admittedly a sexy female animal, but still definitely not an equal.

He began to rock back and forth sliding his erect cock along my wet pouch, causing me to rock as I tried to keep him away from me. Of course I knew it was a losing  battle, but it was something I wasn’t going to give up just because I knew it was hopeless.

“Yes, definitely a feisty filly. I knew it from the moment that I laid eyes on you that you would be fun to train.”

His penis, on each thrust, rubbed right against my still very excited clitoris and drew a loud gasp from my lips. We were rocking back and forth now, the pace driven by his movement. He had placed both of his hands on my hips. He was clearly in control of the situation. If I tried to slow down then I felt his cock slide into position right at the opening of my vagina and I had to speed up once more to delay the inevitable.

As he rocked back and forth sawing his member against my sensitive pussy he continued to taunt me.

“Oh yes, I wondered if you’d find that page I left on the net, whether it would draw you in, and yes, it was so much better than I’d expected. I could hardly believe it when you almost begged to be allowed to come along. Did you realise what you were in for? Of course it doesn’t matter now does it?”

He thrust his cock hard against my clitoris.

“I knew as soon as I saw you this morning that I had to have you as my pony, and I also knew from the look in your eyes that you were a natural. A little coaxing was all that was needed and now look at you.”

I knew I had to resist, I couldn’t let him win, I couldn’t let him break me. I now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’d been manipulated expertly into every humiliating event of the day.

Unfortunately his cock, sliding along my lips and bumping my clitoris, was having the desired effect, his desired effect that is. I was getting hotter and hotter and wetter and wetter. As my unwanted pleasure rose and rose I wondered how many other young ‘ponies’ he’d ‘ridden’ in this position. Worse of all as my breathing turned more and more into pants and gasps, I wondered how I compared with those other girls. Would I be the best pony he’d fucked?

As his pace slowly increased I couldn’t help myself from beginning to moan on each push forward when his cock brushed right over my clitoris. When my moaning started to reach fever pitch he slapped my ass.

“That’s the sort of reaction I’ve been looking for. I could tell right from the off that under those conservative business suits was the lean body of a responsive, hot and horny racing pony. You’re nearly ready aren’t you?”

As if to prove his point he slid a hand right beneath me to my clitoris and began to tease it directly again.

“Ah yes,” he taunted me as he felt my body respond to his touch, my hot flesh quivering beneath his already slimy fingers, “very nearly ready.”

“If you’re a good filly, then I’ll take you for a long and hard ride, but only if you’re a very good filly.” He pinched my clitoris and I screamed in joy and pain against the bit in my mouth.

“I want to know that you’re fully committed to your new position.” He pulled on the hard nubbin, and my whole body shook. His cock throbbed against my hot, wet labia. My legs were beginning to pump harder, rocking the frame back and forth faster and faster.

“I think you’re going to really enjoy your ‘on the job’ training. But before you can start properly, before I can take you on the ride of your life, you need to let me know that you want it.”

It was almost like he was milking my clitoris with his rhythmic stroking, each pull timed in synchrony with each hump of his hips. I was groaning on each push forward and then letting out a long soft moan on each back stroke as his hard cock withdrew, its head sliding back through the wet folds of my spread open labia.

“I want you to whinny for me, whinny so that I know you really are a responsive, hot and horny racing pony.” I was being driven crazy with his teasing. I knew that I couldn’t hold off much longer. My body was buzzing with sensations, sensations I’d never felt before, even during the amazing orgasms from earlier. My pussy was pulsing with a need I’d never known. Deep inside I knew what my body craved but I wanted to deny it, I couldn’t allow myself to give in to those desires. I knew that if I did that my fate would be sealed. My body wanted, no needed, to be filled by a cock. It needed his hot shaft to be rammed deep and hard into my pussy, it needed my virginity to be ripped away.

The pressure was building and was becoming uncontrollable. Mr. Stirling, my new boss and now, I found it hard to admit, the owner of my pony registration, knew exactly how to manipulate me to drive me onwards. I felt like a champagne bottle ready to explode and he was shaking me back and forth fingering the cork, to continue the metaphor.

Then I could hold it no longer. It started deep in my belly and rose up through my chest, to my throat and then finally it exploded out of my mouth.

Neigh! I shook my head and whinnied. My humiliation complete as I asked for him to plunder my body, to make me into a ponygirl and above all to drive his cock deep into my body.

He didn’t disappoint me.

On the next forward stroke I felt it begin. His head lodging firmly against my fluttering entrance. At the same time I felt his free hand leaving my hip and taking up the reins from my back.

When I was at the further reach of the frame I began to move backwards once more, but he didn’t. His cock pushed forward and found momentary resistance. There was nothing I could do, and indeed nothing I now wanted to do, to stop him. He pulled back on the reins and thrust his hips forward. The bit dug in and I couldn’t hold my legs to stop myself falling back without feeling the pressure of the bit in my mouth.

A sharp moment of pain ripped through my body but it was gone as quickly as it had started and his cock was ploughing deep into my vagina. Another neigh escaped my mouth in exclamation as my denied orgasm suddenly burst through my body. My muscles locked and forced me to push once more forward, his cock sliding smoothly outwards once more, only for him to pull again on the reins and in turn pull me back onto his pumping cock. A new spasm of pleasure washed through me turning my mind to jelly.

He started to ride me in earnest now, thrusting me forward with a well timed stroke of his cock and then withdrawing slightly more quickly than the frame rocked backwards. Each thrust providing new power to the orgasm wracking my body.

He decided the pace, there was nothing I could do. Yes, my legs helped power the ride but it was his control on the reins that drove me on. He was an expert. He knew exactly how to keep me riding the crest of the orgasm, it seemed to be never ending. Slower at first and then faster, a gallop, and just before I thought I would die from pleasure he slowed back down to a trot allowing my orgasm to continue to roll on and on.

My breasts rocked unfettered beneath me, the sensation only adding to the orgasm crashing continually through my body. At one point he dropped my reins and reach forward to take a firm hold of my small tits to exert control of our pace directly through them rather than the straps attached to my bit and bridle. With consummate skill gripped my still sore but very hard nipples between his thumbs and forefingers to drive me on. This just pushed me on to new heights. With each squeeze on my poor abused nipples, I found myself involuntarily clenching my vaginal muscles – to his obvious pleasure.

I could feel his own tension beginning to rise and could hear him groaning above my own grunts and moans. His cock stroked long and hard into me and I screamed and neighed. I was a ponygirl now and when his hot semen eventually splashed deep inside me I knew that I was his ponygirl.

The End
(At least for now)