Pony Girl

My name is Linda Kennedy. I’m 22, blonde and with an attractive figure, even if I say so myself. I have no family, my parents having died the previous year in an accident. To help overcome my grief, I dived into my studies at university and had recently graduated with a degree in hospitality management. Oh yes, I discovered at an early age that I prefer my own sex to men. In fact, if it hadn’t been for someone walking their dog several years ago, I would have been raped. That experience has made me extremely nervous in any male company.

While finishing my course at university, I met Lorraine Knight, a 30 year old brunette and I found myself drawn to her, discovering that, like me, she was lesbian. She was a business woman and she offered me a job at the farm estate she owned in Yorkshire, with all food and lodging thrown in, and I immediately accepted. So one sunny June afternoon, Lorraine collected me and my few belongings from the flat I’d been staying in and drove me to her estate out in the middle of the Yorkshire dales. While driving, she said, “You’ll find that the estate is somewhat unusual, Linda.”

“Oh. How?

“It’s a converted horse training stable, but I don’t own or train horses, not real ones anyway.”

She refused to elaborate, but when we arrived at the place, I found out what she meant. The ‘horses’ were human!

At the look on my face, Lorraine explained, “I run a ponygirl farm. Women who want to spend time as a human pony come here for varying lengths of time. Some just come for weekends, and some stay for a couple of months. The one unbreakable rule here is that there are no males allowed at any time there are ponygirls around. If any males do come here, usually tradesmen delivering stuff, the ponies are locked away in their stalls in the stables.”

I was amazed, and after leaving my luggage in one of the downstairs rooms, I accepted Lorraine’s invitation to have a look around. The staff, or grooms as they were called, all female and all attractive, dealt with the ponies, cared for them, fed them, groomed them and disciplined them if necessary. I turned and looked at Lorraine, who laughed.

“Oh yes, Linda. Sometimes a pony doesn’t behave or refuses to do what her groom wants, so she has to be reminded of her position. To be honest, I’m certain that there are some who come here just to be disciplined. For them, it’s a way of relieving themselves of the stress of their particular lifestyle. We have at least one CEO who we know will misbehave all the time because she wants the humiliation and punishment because she cannot let down her guard in her normal life. When someone comes here, she has to recognise that for the duration of her stay, no matter how long it is, she is no longer a person. She’s an animal, and is treated as such. Now, let’s have a look around.”

I was shocked to discover that some of the women who regularly came here allowed themselves to have their nipples pierced and have bells attached. Some also allowed themselves to be branded, and Lorraine said that every pony who came here had a small tattoo of a horse on her right thigh.

There were three ponygirls there at the time, and I was entranced by them. One was in her stall, simply standing there looking around. At the rear of the stall I noticed what appeared to be a vertical padded board with lots of straps, but before I could ask about it, Lorraine had led me outside to see the pony that was being exercised in the yard. Her bridle was attached to the end of a long pole that was rotating round a central pillar. As long at the pole rotated, the pony had to follow it. I was then led around a corner to where the third pony was being harnessed to a small two wheeled buggy. I wondered how much effort was needed to pull the buggy and its rider, when I noticed that the buggy had an electric motor attached to the axle. Lorraine explained that the pony only had to start pulling and the motor would take up the strain. “That way, the pony can pull the buggy for long periods of time without tiring.” Lorraine told me that there were several tracks round the estate that allowed ponygirls to be harnessed and driven round the property. When I asked about privacy, Lorraine laughed.

“There is a twenty foot high steel mesh fence topped with razor wire to keep people out and the tracks are all screened with trees and undergrowth. I’d noticed the high fence, and the strong looking gate as we’d come in. Lorraine went on, “My guests want privacy and the security fence provides it. As well, donations to local businesses and charities help and people are more inclined to mind their own business up here anyway.”

Just outside the stables was a large building that Lorraine explained was an indoor exercise yard for use in winter.

“Winter?” I asked in an astonished tone.

“Oh yes,” replied Lorraine. “We have ponies here all year round. We have to take care of them or they wouldn’t keep coming back.” She paused. “You know, I’m sure some of them keep coming back just for the humiliation of having an enema.”

“Huh??” was my response.

Lorraine laughed. “Every pony has an enema on her first day, before being rigged out, then every day they’re here. I’m told quite a few actually enjoy the experience.”

Behind the stable area, about half a mile away, was a windowless brick building with a large chimney at one end and Lorraine went on to explain that when this was an ordinary stables, any horses that died were incinerated there.

“Every now and then we burn any accumulated rubbish. It’s easier that transporting it to a recycling centre. I’ve had the chimney and burners altered to conform to all the latest legislation, so again, there’s no problem with anyone when it’s in use.”

We wandered back through the stable block, and I noticed that the two remaining ponygirls, still had all their gear on, and that their arms were secured behind their backs. When I mentioned this, Lorraine explained, “Ponies don’t have arms and they don’t talk.” Then she turned to me and asked, “Would you like to know what it’s like to be a ponygirl?”

“Huh! Me?”

“Sure. Why not? That way, you’ll have first hand knowledge of what it feels like to hand all responsibility over to someone else. Just think. No cares, no decisions, just be a pony.”

“Just for a weekend,” I asked.

“Well, to get the full effect, you would have to be a pony for a bit longer than a weekend.”

I thought about it, and the more I thought about it, the more intrigued I became. “OK,” I replied, “How about for a month?”

“We’ll see how you do,” was Lorraine’s reply, and I was too engrossed in looking at the girl in her stall to pay much attention to Lorraine’s reply. However, she then went on, “You have my word that you will be cared for, and will not be harmed in any way. As you obviously don’t like the idea, that would include being pierced, branded or tattooed – unless you gave permission of course!”

“OK. I’ll give it a go for a month,” I said.

Lorraine beamed. “Brilliant. We’ll get you measured up just now then we can have you kitted out tomorrow, then you’ll become my pony!” Again, I didn’t really take in what Lorraine was saying.

I was taken into what was called a tack room and asked to strip. “Ponies don’t wear clothes,” I was told, so reluctantly I removed my clothing, including my watch, bracelet and necklace. Everything was placed in a large leather satchel that was then zipped closed and locked, but before I could say anything, I was distracted by two of the grooms who started fussing around me. It felt somewhat humiliating as some of the measurements seemed quite intimate, but the grooms doing the measuring went about it with a studied indifference, as if they’d done this countless times before - which in effect, they had done.

When they’d finished, instead of allowing me to get dressed again, Lorraine handed me a silk dressing gown and a pair of rubber slippers and led me back to the house. When I asked about my discarded clothes, Lorraine merely said that they would be collected and sorted. She then asked, “Have you eaten today Linda?” and when I said that I’d just had a slice of toast that morning she went on. “Oh good. You see, you’ll be on a type of liquid diet from now on. Tomorrow, before we start you’ll get your enema to make sure you’re cleaned out. Wouldn’t want you to feeling uncomfortable, would we?”

At the look I gave her, she simply laughed.

We went into the house and I was fed what was basically a large milk shake, which filled me even though I didn’t expect it to. Afterwards, we sat chatting and it wasn’t until long afterwards that I realised that Lorraine had extracted my life story without me realising it, especially the bit about having no family or friends or others like bank manager or solicitor who would worry if I wasn’t in touch. Likewise, Lorraine asked about my Internet social life, discovering that I wasn’t on anything. I had dropped my Twitter and Facebook accounts to concentrate on my studies, and I didn’t have anyone on those that kept in touch anyway. 

Suddenly, I yawned and Lorraine smiled, said “Bedtime,” and led me upstairs to a small bedroom, telling me this was only a temporary arrangement as my proper accommodation was being arranged. I wished her a good night and she left, closing the door behind her. On the bed was a beautiful satin nightie and pulling it on I went to the toilet then brushed my teeth before going to bed. Just before climbing into bed, I realised that apart from my toothbrush, none of my things were here, but I felt it was too late to ask about them, so I climbed into bed and settled into a sound night’s sleep.

I was woken early next morning by one of the grooms and told to just wear my dressing gown. When I came downstairs, Lorraine was waiting for me in the dining room, but instead of breakfast, I was only given a glass of water.

“You’re going to become a pony today, so you start the same way as every other ponygirl,” was the explanation. Having said that, Lorraine produced a typed document and asked me to read it. It stated that I, blank space for name, agreed to being kept permanently as a pony girl until such time as my owner, Lorraine Knight decided to release me. As I looked up, Lorraine explained, “We have some women who come here for up to two months at a time. This document, which they all have to sign sorts out the genuine people from those who are just after a quick thrill. It means that while here, they are ponies and don’t have weekends off to come into the house for a break.” She went on, “If you’re happy with things, then I would like you to write this out in your own hand then sign it.”

I was stunned at this, but then thought as it would only be for a month I would be OK, so taking the offered pen and paper, I copied out the document and signed it. Lorraine had two of the grooms there who witnessed my signature. Because I was so distracted by writing and signing the release document, I forgot to ask about my things. Lorraine put the signed document in a drawer, then I was led back to the tack room, my dressing gown and slippers removed and then I was led to a small room at the rear which had what I can only describe as a modified gynaecological chair mounted over a large drain with a shower wand next to it. I was helped into the chair, straps were secured round my waist and chest then my arms were strapped to the sides of the chair. My ankles were also strapped down leaving me half lying with my legs wide apart and feeling very vulnerable. Two of the grooms approached wearing rubber gloves, and proceeded to give me my first enema. It was humiliating, but wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I was cleaned or flushed out three times, then using the shower wand, I was washed and dried before being released from the chair and led back into the main room where my tack was waiting for me.

Everything was made from fine black leather and the first item was a combined harness cum corset with a deep collar attached at the front. The corset part was fitted first. It reached from just below my breasts to my hips, and it was buckled so tightly I had trouble breathing, and I was grateful for not having had anything to eat. Two thin straps went from the front, through my legs and buckled at the back, then a third strap went from the front of the corset, through my legs at my crotch and was also buckled at the back. This strap was broad at the front and covered my pussy but narrowed to fit in the crack of my backside. I commented on how tight everything was, only to be told by Lorraine,

“If there is any slack, it would rub when you move and cause abrasions, which we don’t want.”

The harness straps went over my shoulders and together with the strap that joined the corset section to the collar, framed my breasts. The collar was next and it too was tightly buckled, and the shoulder straps were also connected to the collar, and I found that I couldn’t move my head either to the side, or up or down. I could only move my eyes to look around. There were several mirrors in the tack room and I used them to watch my transformation. The black leather contrasted with my skin and the harness, coupled with the corset gave me a figure I had always dreamt about.

I was helped to sit down and my footwear was fitted. These were knee high black leather boots, but with a difference. They appeared at first like a pair of high heeled boots, but with no heel, and the sole of the boot resembled a horse’s hoof, complete with metal horseshoe. The boots were laced tightly onto my legs and I was then helped to stand up again. At first, I found it awkward to move, the pony boots were heavy and I was forced to walk as if on tiptoe, but after a few minutes, I got the hang of and was able to walk around with ease. Lorraine suggested that I try walking around outside so I was led out, through the stable block and into the exercise yard. I walked around for a few minutes, then tried moving a bit faster. Again, it was awkward at first until I could master the way to move. I realised that I was moving in what would be termed a trot, and I turned to see Lorraine and one of the grooms smiling as they watched me.

“Linda, you’re a natural at this,” Lorraine called out, and I was so busy exploring my feelings that I didn’t see the look that passed between Lorraine and the groom.

“Come on Linda,” Lorraine called out. “Let’s get the rest of your gear on.”

I was led back to the tack room where one of the grooms approached me with what appeared to be a leather bag, but I figured that it was the armbinder I had seen the others wearing.

“Put your arms behind you with your palms flat together,” I was told and I complied. The binder was pulled up my arms, almost to my armpits and straps went under my arms, crossed above my breasts and carried on over my shoulders and were passed through the buckles on the top of the binder. These straps were also incorporated into my collar, further inhibiting movement of my head and shoulders.

I stood watching in the mirrors, as the laces on the armbinder were tightened from my wrists all the way to the top of the binder. The groom doing the job then went back to the bottom and started tightening the laces again, and then repeated it a third time. When she had finished, my elbows were touching and there was a dull ache in my shoulders. This also had the effect of pushing my breasts out and the harness around them felt even tighter than before. I was asked if there was any tingling in my hands or arms, to check that there was no obstruction to the blood flow, and when I replied that there was only an ache in my shoulders, Lorraine said, “Don’t worry about that. Your body will soon get used to your arms being held like this and any discomfort will disappear.” Still watching in the mirrors, I saw the groom cut off the excess laces of the armbinder, then seal the ends of the laces together. Straps were then buckled round my wrists and just below my elbows. A third strap connected the armbinder to my harness, pinning my arms solidly in place.

One of the grooms then approached me carrying a mass of metal and leather and I surmised that this was my bit and bridle, but before it was fitted, Lorraine spoke.

“Right Linda. Once the bit and bridle are fitted you won’t be able to talk, so I had better go over a couple of things. But first,” she turned and gestured to the groom holding the bridle, “This is Katia, and she’ll be your main groom. She’ll be in charge of feeding you, grooming you and training you to become a good pony. Now, if we need to ask you something, you’ll have to stamp with one of your hooves.” Hooves, I thought. She’s really getting into this. Lorraine went on, “One stamp is for ‘Yes’. Two stamps are for ‘No’, three stamps are for ‘I Don’t Know’ or ‘I’m Unsure’ and four stamps mean you need to pee. OK?”

When I said that I was happy with that, Lorraine turned to Katia and spoke to her in a foreign language, even though I knew everyone spoke English. Before I could comment however, Katia was putting the bit into my mouth. The first thing I noticed was that the central bar of the bit looked quite complicated, unlike the straight rubber bits I had seen on the ponygirls yesterday. There was a metal device that slipped round the sides of my tongue, a flat piece of metal pressing and holding my tongue down and another piece that seemed to sit on top of the flat piece. The bit hadn’t been secured, but already I was dumb. The bit and bridle assembly were then strapped on tightly as well. There was a strap from the bit that went round the back of my head. This was connected to two straps that started near the corners of my mouth, which I couldn’t close due to the bit, met at the bridge of my nose and joined another strap that went round my forehead. There was yet another strap that went from my forehead, over the top of my head and joined the other straps at the back. All these straps were retightened, and I found that the bridle incorporated blinkers that obscured my peripheral vision. With my head and shoulders held immobile, I could now only look straight ahead. If I wanted to look at something, I would have to turn my whole body whereas before I could just turn my head or swivel my hips. With all the leather strapped round me, my body from the waist up was a solid immobile mass.

Katia spent some time fussing with my hair until it hung like a ponytail, down my back. Then Lorraine appeared in front of me, smiling. “I forgot to mention that although I promised that you would not be harmed, I do want you to have the tattoo that every other pony has. Do you agree to that?” I’d seen the tattoo on the three ponies that were there. It was a small galloping horse tattooed onto the top of each girl’s right thigh, and I thought it rather neat, so I lifted one foot and stamped once. “Excellent,” responded Lorraine, then the smile left her face as she looked at me and spoke. “Goodbye Linda. Hello Honey.” Honey? I realised that I had now been given a pony name. Lorraine then turned to Katia, and again spoke to her in that foreign language that sounded like Russian, then sauntered out of the building. Katia attached reins to my bit and gave a gentle tug. I hesitated to move but one part of the fitting in my mouth swivelled up into my soft palate and the other pressed down onto my tongue. These, together with the rest of the metal bit, produced great discomfort and pain in my mouth and the only way to relieve the pain was to move after Katia. I had learned my first lesson. Failure to obey the reins would hurt.

I was led through the stables to the indoor exercise yard where my reins were attached to what was called a snubbing post. I stood still and didn’t try to pull on the reins, I had learned. My booted feet were then tightly strapped to the pole and another woman came in, settled herself next to me and then proceeded to apply the tattoo to my thigh. Throughout this, Katia and the other groom continued to chat to each other in the foreign language and Lorraine had disappeared back into the house. The realisation was now beginning to sink in. I was no more than livestock. To be taken care of and used, but not worth consideration as anything else. I wondered just what I had allowed myself to be trapped into.

Once the tattoo was finished, I was then led into the outdoor exercise yard and my reins were attached to the rotating pole which was then started and I found myself walking in a circle. I quickly lost all track of time. My shoulders were hurting as were my feet, but if I slowed down or tried to fight the pull of my reins in any way, the pain in my mouth quickly ended any rebellion. I walked round and round and round then realised that the speed of the walker was slowly increasing and before I knew it, I was moving round at what would be termed a trot. With my arms strapped behind me I found it difficult to maintain my balance, but the exercise machine just kept going so I had no choice but to stumble along.

However, after a short while, I found I was able to walk or trot confidently as my body and brain adapted to my restrained posture. I walked or trotted for an unknown time, and I felt myself becoming tired. More and more, I suffered pain and discomfort as I slowed down but just as I was starting to despair, the walker stopped and Katia, who had been watching me the whole time, came over and released me. She kept talking to me and although I couldn’t understand a word she said, her tone was gentle and soothing as she led me back into the stables. We approached a stall and as Katia stopped to open the door, I saw a name plate on the door. In fancy script, I saw a plaque screwed onto the door that read “HONEY”. I was led inside and Katia secured me in place by the simple expedient of wrapping my reins round a wooden bar.

I was left standing there while Katia went away, but there was just enough slack in the reins to allow me to turn round and look at my new home. The walls were floor to ceiling wooden timbers and the door was in two halves. The bottom half had been closed by Katia and I had heard her slide a bolt home to close it. More than enough to keep me inside. The top half of the door had been left open but looking at it, I saw that when it was also closed, I would be in complete isolation. The floor of my stall was covered with a thick layer of straw. At the back of my stall, or stable as I was starting to think of it, was one of the strange padded boards I had seen in all the other stalls. Looking closely, I saw that it could be tilted to the horizontal.

However, just as I was wondering what it was for, Katia returned with a large bottle with a tube fitted to the top. The tube was gently pushed into my mouth and I was fed as Katia slowly pumped the contents into my mouth. At first, I struggled to swallow but Katia continued to talk soothingly to me and stroke my cheek until I got the hang of it. The contents of the bottle was tasty, which encouraged me to keep eating, and it also proved very filling. After I had finished eating my reins were removed and I was led to another bottle that was attached to the front of my stall. This one contained water and I was able to get the tube into my mouth and then learned to suck in order to drink.

After some time, Katia returned and I was led out of the stable and into a large field, but before letting me into the field, Katia undid the belt that ran through my crotch and removed my reins. She then gave me a slap on my ass and left, closing the gate behind her. One of the other ponygirls was already there, and she came over to me and nuzzled up to me and I found myself responding and I realised that I wanted the company. Her bit was a straight rubber bar, but she didn’t try to talk and I couldn’t so we ended up wandering around the field just looking around and staying together. After a while, the other girl stopped suddenly, crouched down and released a stream of pee. Now I knew why my crotch strap had been undone, and a short while later, feeling the need, I too let my bladder go.

Shortly afterwards, we both stood and watched as a two wheeled buggy, drawn by one of the other girls was driven into the yard. The grooms fussed over her, then removed her from the buggy and led her back into the stables. The rider, whom I didn’t recognise stood talking to one of the grooms and Lorraine, who had appeared. They were too far away to hear what they were saying, but as they turned and headed for the house, Lorraine turned back and looked at me, smiled, then walked away. Shortly after, Katia and another groom appeared, opened the gate. They both started calling out to us, but the only words I could understand were “Honey” and “Primrose” and it dawned on me, as the other girl started to move towards the gate, that Primrose was her pony name and we were being called in by our handlers, so I followed Primrose. Our reins were attached, our crotch straps resecured, tightly, then we were led back into the stables.

Primrose was led into her stall and I was led into mine. My reins were removed and Katia undid my crotch strap and started to leave. I snorted and stamped my foot so she turned round.

“Što je krivo Honey?” she said as she came back to me. She must have worked out what I was going on about, for she laughed and gently led me to the far corner of my stall and showed me a drain in the concrete floor that was clear of the thick layer of straw covering the rest of the floor. I now knew that my crotch strap had been undone so that I could pee if necessary.

Katia stroked my cheek, said “Dobar poni,” and left, closing both halves of the stable door behind her and I heard the sound of the bolts being shot home. Standing in the middle of my stall, I could hear music playing quietly, and I now became aware of just how sore my feet and legs were and sank to my knees in the straw. How long could I last before telling Lorraine that I’d had enough and ask her to release me, then I thought, how could I communicate anything with my arms secured behind my back and a bit in my mouth that prevented any intelligible speech? For the first time since I had been strapped into the pony girl outfit, I felt worried. Would Lorraine check on me or just leave me for the whole month?

The sound of the door bolts being undone brought me out of my reverie, and I struggled to my feet as Katia entered my stall carrying the flask that held my food. After eating, I was left again to wander round my stall, pausing every now and again to have a drink of water. There was no way to judge time and I found myself wanting Katia to come back if only to relieve the boredom. Eventually, the doors opened and Katia did return. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but as she led me over to the drain, I worked out that I was to empty my bladder which I did, then Katia tightly refastened the crotch strap. I was then led back to the strange board and backed up against it.

There was a hollow in the padding that my bound arms settled into and then I was secured to the board. Straps were tightly fastened round my ankles, below and above my knees, my thighs, waist, below and above my breasts and finally, my bridle was secured leaving me with the ability to move only my eyes. The board was then tipped over to the horizontal, with my head slightly higher than my feet. A blanket was then laid over me, Katia stroked my cheek, said “Laku noć. Vidimo se sutra,” and left. Shortly afterwards, the lights went out leaving only a small nightlight glowing dimly in one corner of my stall. At the same time, the music that had been playing also ceased and I lay in the silence. However, just before the lights went out I had noticed, high up in one corner of the ceiling, a camera. It appeared that no matter what time of day or night I, and probably everyone else who was a ponygirl, was under observation.

I lay there in the gloom trying to think through my first day as a ponygirl, but found my thoughts confused and unsettled. One fact was obvious though. I was completely helpless and at the mercy of others. I could do nothing for myself and would have to rely on people like Katia to do anything except breathe, and even that could probably be controlled. With these thoughts running through my mind, I drifted of into a disturbed sleep.

The lights coming on woke me and I lay listening as the background music started playing again. It seemed that the ponygirl stables used music to help keep a calm atmosphere, the same way ordinary livestock was helped! The doors to my stall opened and Katia strolled in. As she tipped my bed/table up to the vertical and undid all the straps holding me, she chatted away but of course, I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. Reins were clipped to my bit and I was led back to the tack room where I saw Primrose already strapped into the chair for her morning enema. Katia wrapped my reins round a stanchion and left me there while she helped clean Primrose. When she was released and led away, it was my turn. Afterwards, with all my crotch straps done up tightly, I was led back to my stall and fed. Then it was back to the exercise yard but this time the pole was a double and my reins were attached to one pole and another pony girl was fastened to the other. We spent the morning walking or trotting around and I found that it was slightly easier than the day before. My pony companion however, kept fighting her reins and making muffled complaints. And I surmised that she didn’t have the same cruel bit that I had. However, although unable to see what was happening, I heard the sound of a whip striking flesh, followed by a cry of pain. This was repeated several times but there was no more complaining from the other pony.

Afterwards, I was led back to my stall and allowed to rest for a while before being taken back out to the field. There were about five or six other ponies there this time, but before my reins were removed, I felt Katia doing something at my feet. When I tried to walk, I found that my steps were severely limited, and when I finally got the chance to look at the other ponies, I saw that everyone had their legs hobbled. We could take a step of about 9” but no more, and it was obvious, to me anyway, that any attempt to run would end in disaster. Primrose came up to me and we spent the afternoon wandering around together and watching the other ponies, some of whom appeared to be in harness for the first time.

When the grooms came to collect us, Primrose, myself and two other ponies, simply walked over to the gate, but one of the others decided to be stubborn and refused to come. When her groom went to collect her, she tried to run away, but with her legs hobbled, she stumbled and fell. Before she could get up, her groom reached her, fitted her reins and led her back to where we were all watching. I think we were allowed to watch as an object lesson, because as the recalcitrant pony was being led from the field, her groom kept striking her on her bare backside and kept calling out “Nevaljali poni.”

I had no idea what she was saying, but it didn’t sound nice.

We were all taken back to our stalls, fed, watered then left. The top half of our stall doors were left open but there wasn’t much to see. The naughty pony was in the stall opposite mine and I could see her. Her bit had been replaced by what looked like the same type I was wearing, and two lunge ropes leading off towards opposite sides of her stall were attached to it. She was unable to move from the spot, and I knew that if her bit was as severe as mine, any attempt to move or even bend down would be very painful for her. With nothing else to do, I simply listened to the music, wandered round my stall and if I needed to, had a pee. Later, our grooms appeared, and we were bedded down for the night. In other words, strapped into our bedframes, doors closed and bolted and lights switched off.

The next morning, when we were woken up, I felt somehow different. Despite not having washed or showered for two days, I felt fresh, as if I had showered. Also, my harness, boots and armbinder felt tighter. However, before I could ponder this, I was taken out to the tack room for my daily enema then the day progressed as the day before. I didn’t see the naughty pony so I guessed she was still being punished, yet at the same time, remembering the look in her eyes, I felt that she had been deliberately naughty in order to be punished. I wondered if she was the CEO Lorraine had mentioned, but I wasn’t in a position to enquire.

The day progressed just like the day before, as did the subsequent days that passed. I found that I lost all track of time, one day blending into the next. The number of ponies in the stable varied from one, namely me, to about a dozen. I also found it difficult to concentrate, and couldn’t string two thoughts together. I still felt that every couple of days, I had showered and my harness retightened, but couldn’t work out why I felt like that. Finding it difficult to concentrate didn’t help either. If it looked like rain, then when we were taken outside for any reason, we had a hooded, ankle length rubber cape fastened round us. At first, it felt strange feeling the rubber brushing against my skin, but I soon became used to it. Then one day, my period started. I had a tampon inserted and a sanitary towel held in place by the crotch strap and I was confined to my stall for the next four or five days.

Afterwards, my routine continued as normal, but I knew that I had been here for about a month and wondered, every time Katia entered my stall in the morning, if she was here to release me. However, when my next period started, I didn’t know what to think. Because I was still having trouble concentrating, I found that I was simply following all directions given to me by Katia. I knew that I couldn’t communicate with anyone, but instead of feeling frightened or angry, I found myself calmly accepting my situation. Every now and then all ponies were taken back to our stalls, secured with a long lead that stopped us getting closer than three feet to the stall doors, and then the stall doors were shut and locked. I know they were locked because the first time it happened, the stall opposite mine was closed first and I watched as the bolts were shot home then padlocked. I think that was when there were deliveries or something else that brought men into the estate. I do not know, but suspect that the entrances to the stable block were also locked.

One day, instead of being released into the field with the other ponies, I found myself being harnessed to one of the buggies the stable had. Katia fussed around me and I felt the weight shift as someone climbed into the buggy. My reins were given a shake, a voice, that I thought I knew, called out “Hodati po,” and I received a stinging pain across my buttocks that caused me to jerk forward, and before I realised it, we were moving. It took me a couple of minutes to adjust, but soon found myself walking along one of the many paths on the estate. The electric motor on the buggy was taking any strain off me and I actually found myself enjoying the walk. We came to a fork in the path and I felt the pressure on my bit and followed the guidance to take the left fork. The rider called out to me but as she was speaking in what sounded like the same language Katia used, all I could understand was approval from her tone. After a while, the reins were given another shake and I received another stinging lash from the whip accompanied by the call of, “Kas poni,” and I was urged into a trot. Eventually we returned to the stables and I found that I was neither out of breath nor sore. The pain in my shoulders had long disappeared and my feet and legs were no longer sore either. I felt strangely elated, and from the way my rider and Katia spoke, stroked me and Katia fussed over me, I think they were happy too.

This set the pattern for me and I found myself pulling a buggy all round the estate. I never saw who was in the buggy. All I knew were the directions from my reins and the occasional touch of a whip on my backside. I had come to the point where I had accepted that I was under the total control of someone else and I was finding it harder and harder to think cohesively. What I did find, was that when trotting, the crotch strap produced some very nice feelings, and I suspect that was its primary purpose. When the weather was wet, I had my rubber cape fastened on me and as the weather became colder, my cape came with a fur lining. I remember taking someone for a ride with the snow ankle deep on the ground and feeling thankful to be locked up in my nice warm stall afterwards.

My life continued, day after day, in the same routine. I was never treated harshly, but was never free of my pony harness, bit, bridle or restraints. Every couple of days though, when I was woken up and released from my rack cum bed, I felt refreshed, and I even felt as if I had just brushed my teeth. Also, my harness and restraints felt firmer on me. Apart from the change in the weather, the only way I had of measuring time passing were my periods, and it soon became impossible to keep track of how many I had had. The number of other ponygirls ebbed and flowed. Sometimes, the place was full, and sometimes, especially in the winter, I was the only one there.

Then one day, the sun was shining and it was pleasantly warm outside. I had been taken out and exercised in the morning, but then I was harnessed to the buggy. I felt the weight shift as a rider settled herself and we were off. We took a path that led to the furthest part of the estate and I knew that sometimes, my rider would dismount, leaving me hobbled and tied to a tree while they went away, for what purpose, I never knew. Eventually, we reached the spot I was familiar with and sure enough I felt my ankles being hobbled and then my rider took my reins and tied them to a tree branch, but did so in a way that left me standing with my face next to the tree. If I tried to move, I knew that the bit assembly in my mouth would hurt me, so I stood patiently while my rider unhitched the buggy then walked round the tree to stand in front of me.

“Hello Linda,” she said. 'Linda? Who’s Linda?' I thought. 'My name’s Honey.' Then from somewhere at the back of my mind, I remembered. I was Linda, or had been until the person in front of me made me a ponygirl. I struggled to remember her name, then it came to me. Lorraine. “Ah, from the look in your eyes, you remember me. You do remember me don’t you?” She stood saying nothing until I reluctantly raised one hoof and stamped once. “Oh excellent,” she responded. “I was a bit worried that the drugs we’ve been feeding you would have left you confused. I’m glad to see they haven’t.” Lorraine went on, “It’s been a year since you became my pony so I thought I’d better explain things to you and apologise.” I wondered what she meant, but she continued while stroking my face.

“When I brought you here, I always intended to make you a ponygirl, but only for two months, just so you would know what it was like to be completely helpless. I thought it would help you understand how people felt when they were here. However, when Katia and I saw the way you reacted with your pony footwear, we knew that you would make a good pony so we decided to keep you. The document you wrote out and signed gave me the excuse to,” she paused, “yes, kidnap you is the right expression. In your own handwriting you gave me the right to keep you as a pony for as long as I wanted. Originally, only Katia and I knew but all the other grooms soon realised that you were going to be kept as a pony girl for ever. Your letter was used as proof, and yes it was worded slightly differently from the standard disclaimer we make everyone else write and sign.”

She stopped to have a drink of water then continued. Lorraine smiled. “When you were fed, your food contained a drug cocktail that would leave you slightly confused and make it difficult for you think straight. We’ve left it out of your food for the past few days, so you’ll be able to understand what’s been done to you and what will happen in the future. Before I go on though, I do have to apologise Linda. I’ve kidnapped you and if anyone found out, Katia, I and all the other grooms would go to prison. We’ve used that bit and bridle on you because it not only keeps you from uttering anything intelligible, but as you’ll know, also produces instant obedience.” At this she gave my reins a slight tug to emphasise her comments. All I could produce was a sound somewhere between a snort and a whinny.

I just stared at her. She had kidnapped me, drugged me and turned me into her pet pony. What was she going to do to me now? At this point, she slackened my reins and allowed me to move back a bit, then she undid the crotch strap. “Go ahead and pee if your want.” I felt embarrassed but Lorraine simply said, “Go on, you’ve done it often enough in the past when I’ve had you out.” At that, I could contain myself any longer and stood letting a flood of pee run out. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that my rider, Lorraine in this case, would have to clean and dry the metal links of my hobble. When I had finished, Lorraine came up and gave me a drink from the water bottle designed to fit in my mouth, and when I had drunk my fill, she continued with her explanation.

“Outside of this estate, you no longer exist. I reported you missing a couple of weeks after you supposedly started working here. A couple of days later, the car you rented was found at the coast, parked near a beach where the currents are notorious. It’s been assumed that you went for a swim, got caught in the currents and were swept out to sea. You have been reported as missing presumed dead.”

I stood digesting this for a few minutes before she went on.

“By the way, have you noticed that every couple of days you feel different? Ah, from the look in your eye, you do. Well, we couldn’t take any chances with you, so we would put a strong sedative in your food and when you were unconscious, we’d strip everything off you, bathe you, clean your teeth, exercise your arms and neck so the muscles didn’t atrophy then strap you back up again. So, Linda, I mean Honey. What does the future hold for you? Well, you will continue to be my permanent pony girl. You will never be free of restraints, harness, bit or bridle.” She went on, “Did you know that Katia is also a qualified psychiatrist? In addition to the drugs in your food, she has been using her skill to place you in a hypnotic trance when she utters a certain phrase. Not only is this meant to help keep you calm and docile, but if someone were to accidentally free you in the future you would find yourself unable to speak.”

She sighed. “I wish I could convince you that your life here will be a pleasant one. Do you remember Bramble?” Bramble was one of the ponies I saw fairly regularly. She was a lot older than the others but still looked good. Unlike the rest of us, she always wore a hooded latex catsuit instead of being kept naked. “Well,” said Lorraine, “would you believe she’s seventy years old?” I was astounded, but thinking back, I thought that Lorraine was probably right. When I was close to Bramble, I now recollected seeing that her hair was grey, and there were fine lines round her eyes.

Lorraine then untied my reins from the tree and hitched me back into the buggy before removing my hobbles. Standing up she looked at me went on, “I can see the fear and anger in your eyes Honey, but just remember, I keep my promises. The one month deal was what you said, not me. I said that I would take care of you and keep you from harm, and I have and will continue to do so. You’re a very popular pony you know, so obedient and gentle. I’ve been offered as much as £650,000 for you but I turned it down. If anything should happen to me, I’ve left strict instructions about your welfare and what should happen to you in the future. I will take good care of you. I’m sorry for doing this to you, but after a year, I simply can’t afford anyone learning the truth about you. However, I intend to make sure your life here is a pleasant one. There’s just one thing I need to do now. This is on Katia’s advice to show you just how dependant on someone else you’ve become.”

With that, she reached up and folded the blinkers across my eyes and secured them shut. I wasn’t aware that the blinkers could do that. I couldn’t even see a glimmer of light, then I felt the weight change as Lorraine remounted the buggy, “Now Honey, it’s time to take us both home.”

A shake of the reins and a sting across my backside and we were off. Lorraine kept the pace to a walk and after a few minutes, I found myself relaxing and simply following the instructions from my reins, as I always had. However, being blind and simply reacting to the reins left me with time to think. Lorraine had kidnapped me, or had she? I had never been one for going out, and I found that I didn’t really miss the everyday things like shopping, paying bills, cleaning up, being depressed by the news, being bothered by guys. I was certainly fitter than I was a year ago, and I found myself pondering if I really wanted to be free. The only thing I did regret, was not being able to talk to someone. I was still engrossed in my thoughts when I realised that we were back at the stables and I was being unhitched from the buggy. I felt a hand caress my cheek then slip down to gently squeeze my breast then heard Lorraine say, “Yes, Honey, I will take very good care of you.”

I was led away and when my blinkers were opened, I found myself back in my stall with Katia fussing over me. She suddenly reached up and kissed me on my bitted mouth than said, “I too will take very good care of you. If I didn’t have to look after you as a pony, I would have taken you to my bed long ago.” I was then left alone and hobbled in my stall thinking that it was the first time I had heard Katia speak English.

As I waited, I thought about the events of the day as well as how I was feeling so when Katia returned and fed me, I stamped and whinnied until she asked, “What is wrong my pretty?” I kept making noises until she suddenly said, “Are you wanting to talk?” I stamped once. “Oh Honey, you know that’s not allowed. You would only beg or plead to be released, something we couldn’t do and that would just make everyone sad.” This time I stamped twice. “You wouldn’t ask to be released?” One stamp. “I do not have permission to remove your bit, so I shall speak to Mistress about it, but don’t expect her to agree.” In response, I nuzzled her and in response, she stood gently massaging my breasts until it was time to settle me for the night. As I was strapped down, Katia leaned over me, wished me good night, kissed me then left. The lights went out and I lay there, thinking over the events of the day before I dropped into an exhausted slumber.

Next morning started off as usual but after my enema I was taken back to my stall and hobbled. A long lead was attached to my bit and secured to the wall of my stall, then Katia closed the blinkers over my eyes and left me. I heard the sound of the bolts as both doors were closed and I stood there, blind, hobbled and leashed to the wall. If I tried to walk in any direction that tightened my leash, I would suffer so I did the only thing I could think off, I knelt in the straw and waited. Over the past year, I had learned to patiently wait and do nothing, just letting random thoughts and pictures flow through my mind.

Eventually, I heard the sound of the stall doors being opened and I struggled to my feet. Hands stroked my face and from the scent, I knew it was Katia. I felt the leash being unclipped and my reins being attached then, still blind, I was led out of my stall and after a short walk found myself being harnessed to the buggy. The weight shifted, my reins shook and a whip cut across my backside. This time, as I moved off, it took a little more effort than usual to start moving before the electric motor took up the strain, and I walked blindly, guided by the reins. Whomever was my rider was silent and as I walked, I listened to the sounds of the countryside around me; the hum of insects, the sound of the birds, the wind blowing through the trees, the swish of my ponytail against the leather of my armbinder. My hair had by now grown down as far as my waist. The day was warm and I found, to my surprise, that I was enjoying myself!

Eventually, we came to a stop and I felt my rider dismounting then hobbles were fitted round my ankles. As I stood there, I felt hands at my head and then my bit was removed, my blinkers opened and I found myself looking at Lorraine and Katia. No wonder the buggy felt different. I had carried two riders. Lorraine spoke,

“Well, Honey, you wanted to speak, so here’s your chance. What do you want to say?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out as I found myself struggling to speak. Katia came forward and offered me a drink of water.

“Take your time. It’s been a year since you last used your voice. Relax and let your brain re-educate your tongue.”

After licking my lips, another thing I hadn’t been able to do for a year, I finally found my voice, although what came out was a loud whisper. Since the day before I already knew what I wanted to say.

“Lorraine,” I croaked, “kidnapping is when someone is taken and held against their will. You’re not keeping me against my will.”

Both Lorraine and Katia showed amazement as I went on in a strengthening voice.

“Maybe I should be angry or upset, but I’ve actually found a peace within me that I never expected to find. If you feel it necessary to continue drugging or hypnotising me, then that’s OK. I’m your pony. I’ll admit I was shocked at finding out just how long I’ve been kept like this and what you’ve done to make me disappear, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I find I’ve accepted it, especially as you do keep your promises. I feel safe here. The only thing I’m missing,” I added with a smile, “is a decent orgasm.”

Lorraine and Katia both laughed out loud, then Lorraine said, “Are you prepared to write out and sign a document that commits you to me as my permanent pony?”

“Yes,” was my immediate reply. Lorraine smiled and continued,

“Honey, you’re a gem, you really are. I think we can do something about relieving your sexual tension, but,” and here she paused and became serious again, “because I have to think of not only Katia but all the other girls that work here, you will be kept bound and bitted at all times. As a precaution, we will continue to drug your food, at least for now, and Katia can continue with the hypnosis. It will be in everyone’s interest, including yours I think”

“Yes Mistress,” I replied, enjoying the look on Lorraine’s face at being addressed as Mistress. “I would however, like to make two requests.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to request anything,” Lorraine replied.

“Yes Mistress, I know. That’s why I make it a request. If you consider that you cannot grant it, then I will accept your decision and continue to try and be the best pony here.”

Turning to Lorraine, Katia said, “I think we should listen. Somehow, I don’t think Honey is going to ask for something impossible to grant.”

“Alright Honey,” Lorraine responded. “What is it?”

“Mistress, on those days when I am the only pony in the stables, and there is nothing else needing done, would it be possible to be allowed to speak with someone,” I looked at Katia, who smiled, “just for practice.” They both smiled and I continued, “Also Mistress, as I’ve accepted that I’m just a pony, would you consider speaking to me in English, at least some of the time?”

Lorraine smiled and replied, “Well Honey, I’ll have to think about that. I like to practice my Croatian. Now, is there anything else you wish to say before we take you home?”

My response was to open my mouth ready to receive my bit, which Katia promptly fastened back on me. My hobbles were removed, but before either of them could mount, I stamped my foot four times. Katia laughed but it was Lorraine who undid my crotch strap and allowed me to have a pee. When I was finished, she retightened the strap then just before turning away, bent down and kissed my breasts. It was a happy pony that trotted back to the stables.

The following day, my arms were released and once they had been massaged to restore use, I knelt in my stall and wrote out;

‘I, Linda Elizabeth Kennedy, known from this time on as Honey, submit myself to being a human pony for the rest of my natural life, and acknowledge Lorraine Knight as my legal owner. I hereby submit myself to whatever conditions my owner chooses, acknowledging that as from the signing of this document, I freely renounce all and any rights and freedoms, and accept my status is now that of an animal.’ My signature was witnessed by three of the grooms and I was then left in my stall until it was time to be fed.

That night, strapped down for sleep with the lights out and surrounded by silence, I lay thinking of my future. What would happen to me? Would Lorraine or Katia speak to me so I could understand them? Would I be allowed to speak sometime? I didn’t know, and I found that I was content to wait and accept their decision, whichever way it went. I was already dead to the rest of the world, so wondered what would happen when I was no longer fit and able, then I remembered. This was a stable, so old, sick or injured horses were painlessly put down and their bodies disposed of. The incinerator would come into play and I would be no more. I knew that until that day arrived, I would be looked after and kept in the best of health, so could well be a pony for the next thirty or forty years, if not longer, and with that thought, I slept.

story continues in Part Two
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