© Copyright 2019 - dianag - Used by permission
Storycodes: F+/f+; captive; bond; hypno; piercing; ponygirl; corset; harness; collar; bitgag; armbinder; boots; bridle; enema; stables; training; outdoors; cart; enslave; dehumanise; cons/reluct; X
It has been four years since I became Honey. I’m no longer fed drugged food, or so Katia tells me. She’s always chatting to me, but the conversation is one sided. Lorraine decided that although everyone could talk to me in English, I was not allowed to talk, so I have worn the restrictive bit twenty four seven. Katia can even clean my teeth without removing it. All the grooms started to speak to me in English instead of their native language, which I had discovered was Croatian. However, whenever I’m being trained, or taken out all commands are given in the Croatian tongue. I don’t understand a word, but by now, I can associate a given sound with a given action, such as ‘Walk, trot’ and so on. In addition, Katia continued to work her hypnotic magic on me, as I found out only a few weeks after my meeting with Lorraine. My bridle and bit were removed one afternoon and Katia asked me a question. However, I found that I was unable to utter a sound. Katia just smiled and said,
“There, Honey. Now we can remove this bit without worrying if you’re going to do something a well behaved pony shouldn’t do, speak.”
Whether it was the hypnosis, or the year and a bit I had already spent as a pony, I don’t know, but not being able to speak didn’t upset me, and still doesn’t. However, Katia then refitted my headgear saying, “Mistress Lorraine feels that you should remain bitted unless we need to remove it.” Wearing the bit didn’t trouble me any more as I had become used to it and following directions via reins had become so natural that I never thought about it.
An additional benefit, was that I could now have a regular shower. Up until now, apart from a wash down while secured in my stall, I had been sedated, then stripped and cleaned every two or three days. There was a shower room behind the tack room that was usually used by ponies before they returned to the outside world. My tack was removed but my arms were locked into steel shackles just above my elbows that held my arms behind my back. This was actually a help, as any attempt to bring my arms forward resulted in shooting pains in my shoulders and neck. My feet slipped into a pair of plastic wedge sandals that held my feet as if I had 4 inch heels, as any attempt to lower my feet also caused me pain. Apart from my head, all my hair was shaved and a depilatory cream applied. Three or four treatments of the cream, killed off the roots and permanently prevented any hair from regrowing.
The crotch strap part of my tack is for pleasure. The day after being told I would not be allowed to speak, the strap received some enhancements. In front it held a dildo and I quickly found out, when pulling a buggy, that it had a remote control. Imagine having an orgasm while pulling a buggy. Up until that moment, I couldn’t, but I do now. What makes the orgasm more intense is that you still have to obey reins and if I faltered, the whip. Even now, my mind goes blank, and I simply react like an animal. Katia told me the expression on my face and the sounds I make are quite impressive, especially as I appear even more sensitive to my reins.
The other addition is a butt plug. I had a long ponytail that came down to my waist, but my hair was cut and used to make me a tail that is part of the plug. First time it was fitted, after I had become used to the intruder, I started wriggling my hips and making my tail sway from side to side, much to Katia and Lorraine’s amusement. At night I have an ordinary butt plug, but I wear my tail at all other times.
I now have a companion pony. It was just a few days after my last conversation with Lorraine, in fact the last time I uttered a human sound, the stable acquired a new resident. She was dragged into the stable block one morning, kicking, screaming and shouting obscenities. I was the only pony in the stable and I stood at the door of my stall and watched as this young woman, with long black hair, was forcibly stripped and dragged into the tack room. The sounds of the shouting and swearing continued but suddenly changed to screams and pleading, then silence. Shortly afterwards, she was brought out and placed in the stall directly opposite mine. She was in full pony tack, including boots and a bit that looked even more severe than mine. It only needed one groom to lead her even though she was trying to fight her restraints, but the bit enforced obedience and she had no option but to go where she was led. Once in her stall, lunge leads, one to each side of her stall, were clipped to her bit and she was locked into her stall and left. As she stood looking at me, her expression was a mixture of anger, defiance and fear. She quickly realised that standing still was her only choice if she didn’t want to be hurt. Although she tried to speak, all that came out were gargled sounds and snorts.
Shortly afterwards Katia came and I was fed, led out to the paddock, hobbled and left to wander around for a while. Later I was hitched to a buggy and taken for a trip round the estate. Whomever was driving kept stopping, dismounting and disappearing for a time before returning to the buggy. I wasn’t hobbled, but I knew there was no reason to do anything but wait. Eventually we came to a stop and I was able to watch as my rider headed into the trees and I saw her inspecting the security fence. This was a security inspection. At one point, we stopped, I was hobbled and unhitched from the buggy while my driver settled down for what I assumed was lunch. I just stood patiently waiting until she returned, rehitched me to the buggy and removed my hobbles. Before moving on, she gave me a drink and then slipped something into my mouth. It was sweet and delicious! She laughed at my expression and said, “You’re a really good pony Honey. You deserve a treat or two.”
When we returned to the stable, I saw the dark haired pony girl in the exercise yard. She was connected to the rotating pole by her reins but was struggling to walk properly. The groom who was watching was encouraging her with a whip, and I could hear the girl’s cries of distress. I was handed back to Katia, who gave me a rub down before putting me back in my stall. As she bolted the stall door she told me what was happening. The woman, or girl really, had somehow smuggled herself into the estate, probably in the back of a delivery vehicle. She had been caught trying to break into the house and restrained. Lorraine had used some of her connections and found that the girl was 20 years old with a record of theft. She had recently been released from prison after serving 6 months for repeated petty thefts and had made herself disappear. Lorraine had been on the point of calling the police when the girl, I was never told her name, said something to the effect that she would go to the press and tell them about this place. She had obviously been watching and seen me and possibly others, being exercised. Lorraine had then kept her locked in the house cellar until the middle of the week when there were no other ponies. Her fighting, screams and violent objections were the result of Lorraine informing the girl that as nobody was looking for her, and as she had no family, she would be staying as Lorraine’s permanent guest – as a pony.
“We’re calling her Nightshade,” said Katia, who then went on, “I think she’ll make a good pony. All she needs is discipline.” I knew that she would get that all right. Katia told me that Nightshade’s bit was slightly different from mine. “She had a tongue piercing, so it was changed to something we could use. The bit locked into place on the piercing, holding her tongue down. She can’t move it and coupled with the rest of the bit, any fighting of the reins causes her a lot of pain.” She then laughed. “She has also found that her bit prevents her from biting.”
When she was brought back to her stall, Nightshade was very subdued and allowed herself to be secured in her stall with only one lunge line attached. She stood looking out the door that had deliberately been left open, but avoided making eye contact with me, then I saw her sink to her knees and I heard her cries of fear. She didn’t try to go through the open door as she had realised that any attempt would result in pain, and going by the stripes on her backside, thighs and breasts, she had suffered enough. Later, we were both fed, and Nightshade learned to swallow with her bit in place. We were then bedded down for the night. As I could look straight into her stall, I saw that Nightshade’s arms were secured in a leather harness that held her arms in a reverse prayer position, and as I watched, her groom pulled on a strap and I heard Nightshade groan as her arms were pulled up so far that her elbows were only a short distance apart. Her hands had been laced into leather mitts so even her fingers were useless to her. It was obvious that she wouldn’t be strapped down for the night, but would just have to lie down on the straw if she wanted to sleep.
I watched her over the next few days. Although she would obey the pull of her reins, she was in turn stubborn, defiant, angry and generally disagreeable. She even tried spitting at her groom, which earned her a few strokes from the groom’s crop. One morning, I looked on as the doctor, who enjoyed playing vet for the ponies, entered Nightshade’s stall. I didn’t see what happened, but heard a muffled scream of pain and the next time I saw Nightshade, she was wearing a 1” diameter steel ring in her nose and similar rings adorned her nipples. A few days later, when she was being taken out of her stall, her groom clipped a line to the nose ring and led Nightshade out. She tried to resist, but the pull of the ring was apparently much harder to resist than her bit. By the end of the day, when I next saw her, she was far more subdued. Now, a lunge line was simply clipped to her nose ring to keep her in place. All the grooms now spoke in their own language again, unless I was on my own, which was probably intended to reinforce Nightshade’s feelings of helplessness.
A combination of drugged food, kindness and inescapable restraints wore down her resistance and by the end of what I thought were two weeks, she was behaving herself. She was now allowed to join me in the paddock and she too sought company and we nuzzled up to each other. I was fascinated by her nose ring and wondered what it would be like. I should have realised that we were being watched, as that night, Katia asked me if I liked Nightshade’s ring. When I responded by stamping yes, she went on, “Would Honey like to have a nose ring too?” I should have thought it out, but just stamped once. As Katia strapped me down for the night she was smiling at me. She kissed me goodnight, and I was left for the night.
Next morning, after my daily enema, I was taken back to my stall where I found what resembled a tall thin cage with numerous leather straps. When animals require medical treatment, they are often secured in a crush cage to prevent any movement that could cause harm to themselves or the vet. I soon found myself secured in what was a crush cage adapted for human animals. I couldn’t move, even my head was held immobile. The vet appeared and after examining my nose, she sprayed something up my nostrils than stood back talking to Katia. I wasn’t included in the conversation.
“I don’t know why I have to use a local anaesthetic,” she said. Now I knew what had been sprayed up my nose as I felt my nose and upper lip becoming numb. She went on, “The pain of the piercing should be an object lesson in itself.”
At that point, we all became aware of Lorraine as she said, “It’s because not only do I keep my promises, but I see no reason to inflict unnecessary pain.”
“Oh well, she’s your animal. You know, I’ve never understood the desire to become an animal, even one as well treated as they are here.” She continued, “My niece enjoys it though. Personally, I enjoy being pulled round the estate by a ponygirl.” She gave an even louder laugh as she went on. “Until we started coming here, Julia and I were often arguing about something or other, but our relationship is now much better. I don’t know if it’s because she might find herself pulling her aunt around so acts accordingly at home. She knows I’d use the whip on her at the slightest infraction.”
Lorraine just smiled. “That is one reason we never allow a ponygirl to be taken by someone who is acquainted with her in the outside world unless they are supervised. We wouldn’t want someone to stop coming because she was afraid.”
The vet, I never found out her name, continued, “I must admit, I like the way Nightshade’s arms are secured. Much better than this silly armbinder. In fact, from now on, that’s the way Julia will have her arms secured. Pity I couldn’t leave them like that permanently. That’d teach her to become an animal.” I wondered what she was like with her patients, because if she had a bedside manner, she hid it well. With a sigh, she turned to me, and said, “Right. Let’s see how Honey’s doing. You know, she’s one of the gentlest and most biddable ponies I’ve ever met.” She might have been looking at me, but she wasn’t talking to me and thinking of how she had described me to Lorraine, I once again felt just like the livestock I had become.
She probed at my nose, than picked up something that resembled a steel hole punch. There was a snipping sound, but I felt nothing. She then threaded a 1” diameter ring through my pierced septum, and using a tool, crimped it shut. “There we go. All done. I’d leave her in the cage for a few hours then she’ll be good to go, but don’t put any pressure on the ring for a couple of days.” As she tidied up, Katia asked about the nose ring, and I strongly suspect that it was for my benefit because I think she and Lorraine already knew the answers.
“How secure is the ring?” Katia asked.
“Oh, to all intents and purposes, it’s permanent. It’s made from surgical steel and the locking tangs can’t be accessed once it’s been crimped closed.”
With that she picked up her equipment, wished Katia a cheery “Bye Bye” and left with Lorraine. Katia came over and examined my new ring but didn’t touch it.
“Just relax Honey,” she said. “We’ll let you out into the paddock in a little while.” With that she left, closing both stall doors behind her and leaving me locked in the crush cage in my stall. Relax? I couldn’t do anything else. The cage, combined with my tack meant that I couldn’t even wriggle my fingers. The bit held my tongue, my toes were held firmly by my pony boots, so the only part of me I could move were my eyes, and there wasn’t exactly a lot to see.
Eventually however, Katia returned, with Lorraine who also wanted to have another look at my new ring.
“Very nice Honey. I wonder if you would like some more piercings.” She paused. “You have nice nipples, and how about a ring in your clit?”
My only response, the only response I could make, was a snort. Lorraine laughed. “Well, when you first came here, you told me that you didn’t like the idea of being pierced, so I’m wondering if you’ve changed your mind. We’ll see how you feel in a few days.”
Lorraine left, and I was released from the crush cage and led out to the field, hobbled and turned loose. There was only one other pony out, Nightshade, and when she saw me, she came over to me as quickly as her hobble would allow. I noticed that she was much steadier on her feet now as we met and nuzzled each other. She was much calmer now as well, and I knew it was probably the effect of the drugs in her food, although I suspected there were other factors at work as well.
Three days later, I found that having a nose ring was probably not a good idea. I was released from my bed in the morning, but instead of attaching reins to my bit, Katia simply clipped a lead to my nose ring and led me out of the stall. Although she was gentle, the pain when I resisted the initial pull was incredible, and I quickly followed my groom with my eyes watering.
“Yes, the nose ring is a good way of controlling an animal, isn’t it?” said Katia as we walked to the tack room. “Didn’t it occur to you that this is why bulls have rings through their noses?”
It made sense, now I thought about it, unfortunately a few days too late.
For the times I was in my stall I was now often secured using the nose ring. There were two leads Katia used. One went from the rear of my stall and allowed me to move around but kept me about three feet away from the door. The other lead was secured directly above the door. When that one was used, I could stand and look out at the world, or rather other ponies and grooms go by, but couldn’t move away from the door. It was an insidious method of control, calling for instant obedience, and I had asked for it. Once, when Katia secured me in my stall, I wandered up to where the lead was clipped to a ring in the timber wall and looked at it. It was just a simple clip. Hold it in one hand, squeeze the clip and it was loose. Simple and easy, if you had hands. I laughed at my own foolishness, but the laugh came out as an equine snort. When Lorraine saw me a few days later and asked if I wanted my nipples, or anything else pierced, she laughed when the response was a very definite double stamp.
About a week later, Lorraine and Katia appeared in my stall just after the morning enema. I was fully kitted out ready to be taken outside for whatever they wanted me to do.
“You’re right Katia, “Lorraine said. “Nightshade definitely has some type of attachment to Honey, so I agree with you that we should reinforce it, see if she settles down even more.” I stood wondering what they were talking about when two more grooms appeared and with Katia entered my stall. My nose ring was clipped to a wall and then they started to remove my armbinder. When it was removed, someone held my arms behind my back, but from the ache in my shoulders, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway, so I stood passively as Katia and the other groom fitted an additional item to my body harness and collar. Next my arms were gently but firmly brought up in a reverse prayer and I felt straps tighten round my wrists, a strap was pulled and I found my arms held in the same reverse prayer position as Nightshade. At first my shoulders hurt, but as Katia rubbed a salve into my skin the pain disappeared, leaving me feeling just uncomfortable. Leather mitts were then laced onto my hands and my nose ring unclipped from the wall.
Lorraine came up to me and stood stroking my face and I found myself leaning forward to nuzzle her.
“Sorry for this Honey,” she said softly, “but it will just be for a little while until Nightshade learns to adapt to her new life.” I wondered what she meant by a little while. It had taken me about a year to adapt and I had practically allowed my transformation to take place. I was led out into the field and immediately Nightshade hobbled up to me and nuzzled in. She took a step back and her eyes opened wide when she saw my arms, and she raised one eyebrow in question. Sadly I couldn’t even shrug my shoulders. We spent the morning wandering round the field and we were joined by five others. It was some time later that I realised that every other pony followed me around the field. If I stopped, they stopped, and if I decided to wander over to look at any activity in the stable block, they came too. Suddenly I burst out laughing, although what came out was a snort. I had become the Alpha mare of the herd!
As the days passed, my arm harness was constantly adjusted, as was Nightshade’s, until the day came that our mitted fists were touching our collars and our elbows were touching. At that point our arms were encased in a leather sheath to hide them from view. Because I couldn’t be strapped down for the night, I learned to sleep on the straw, getting down and up again without even trying to move any muscles in my arms. For no other reason I could think of, apart from reinforcing my total helplessness, I was hobbled and my nose ring clipped to the wall with a long chain.
The stable routine continued, but I found that I was usually out pulling buggies. Katia informed me that I was often asked for and there was a waiting list of riders wanting me to pull them. I’d never been so popular! I always knew when I was pulling Lorraine, my owner as I now thought of her, because my blinkers were always kept closed. With nothing visible to distract me I had a greater sensitivity to my reins. When we stopped somewhere, I would be hobbled and secured by my nose ring, but my blinkers were never removed. I remained blind from the moment I was taken from my stall until I was returned there. Others might have found this distressing, but strangely, I found it comforting. I was owned and loved so I trusted my owner to look after me. Quite often, when pulling other riders, we would meet other ponies being driven around and several times we would meet Nightshade, who seemed to be enjoying herself, if her expression was anything to go by. Once, while secured to a tree, another buggy was brought up, the pony unhitched and hobbled. However, her reins were secured to a tree in such a way that she could hardly move.
“There, Tilly, that should hold you.” It was the doctor who liked playing vet. She gave her pony a resounding slap on the backside before wandering off. I had enough movement to look around but I wasn’t able to approach the poor pony, who stood crying. I saw that her arms were being held in the same reverse prayer position as mine and surmised that this was Julia, the vet’s niece. The adjustment strap was pulled tight and the girl’s elbows were only about an inch apart. She wasn’t happy, and I wondered if her Aunt had some kind of hold over her to compel her to keep coming. However, I was just a pony so I knew that I’d never find out.
As the weather become colder and wetter, we spent more time in the exercise shed, either being guided through a form of dressage, which I didn’t like. I have no real sense of timing and as mistakes were “corrected” by the whip, I often found my day ending with a number of stripes across my backside and thighs. Although the application of the whip hurt, the wielder was so good that it never caused any damage. Most of the time, it was just Nightshade and myself pulling buggies around. As these buggies didn’t have the electric motors to help, pulling them was hard work and again, Katia or any of the grooms working us, weren’t slow to encourage us with the whip. Still, it was fun as Nightshade and I competed, albeit in a friendly way, to see who was the better pony. One day, we were each harnessed up to our buggies and our blinkers closed, leaving us blind. A shake of the reins, touch of a whip and a “Hodati po“ and off I went. I heard a squeal and knew Nightshade had also been blinded. For an unknown time, we walked then trotted round the shed. I had learned to trust my driver, even though I knew that we would often be approaching a wall, but Nightshade wasn’t so sure and I heard the whip being applied several times. Eventually, we were brought to a halt, our blinkers released, we were hobbled then secured by the simple expedient of draping our reins over a hitching rail and loosely knotting them. We were watered and then Nightshade and I stood and watched as through a window we could see our grooms having lunch.
After a while they returned, we were again blindfolded and the exercises continued. However, this time we were worked up to a gallop, not easy pulling a buggy and rider while blind, but I never felt the whip once, and I never heard it being used on Nightshade. I was brought to a halt and heard Nightshade’s rider halting her. Our eyes were uncovered and we found ourselves facing each other. All of a sudden I felt a great exhilaration run through me. Not only had I performed well, but had even enjoyed myself. Looking at Nightshade, I saw, even with her harness and bit, a look of sheer joy. Our grooms must have noticed as well because of the fuss they made of us. I felt that Nightshade had made that mental transition to accepting that her situation was now permanent and the grooms and Lorraine must have thought so too, because that night, our arms were released from the back prayer, and after a lot of salve and massage, we were put back into armbinders. I was strapped down which felt strange at first, but it was more comfortable than prickly straw and I soon drifted off to sleep. The only down side was that with my arms in a reverse prayer, I could get my tail to really swing about!
Throughout the winter and into spring, Nightshade and I were constantly exercised, but as a pair. We were hitched to a larger buggy and we learned to work together. In the early stages our nose rings were linked which, if we didn’t work together resulted in pain for both of us. It was a challenge and I accepted it. Happily, so did Nightshade. One fine spring day, we were taken outside and harnessed to a larger buggy, or rather, a four wheeled carriage. Fortunately I saw that it had an electric motor attached to both axles. I heard people climbing into the carriage, our reins shook and we were moving before our rider decided we needed her whip. We spent an enjoyable afternoon going round the various tracks in the estate before returning to the stables, being unhitched, led into our stalls, fed, then left for a while. I never found out who was in the carriage, but why should I? The pony doesn’t need to know who she’s pulling, she just does it.
One day, when I was returned to my stall after the normal morning routine, Katia came in and blindfolded me. A lead was attached to my nose ring and I was led out of the stable into the open air. I followed my lead and felt as if I was going up a ramp, then I was tightly strapped into something that held me upright but unable to move. I then heard hooves and another pony was brought into where I was. I heard the sound of straps being pulled through buckles and figured that the other pony had been secured just like me. There was the sound of a heavy door closing then silence. After spending so much time being blinded by my blinkers, my sense of smell had become much sharper, so I was able to recognise the other pony as Nightshade, and an answering whinny to mine confirmed it. Suddenly we heard the sound of an engine and felt movement. We were in a van or transport of some kind and we were being taken somewhere. I confess I felt fear at that point. Had Lorraine succumbed and sold me? Had we both been sold? For the first time in many months, I fought against my restraints, but achieved precisely nothing. I stayed exactly where I had been secured.
Our journey continued for some time. From the movement I felt, I knew that we were on a road, then we were being bounced around as if we were on a dirt track or similar. Despite the bouncing, my body didn’t move, not even my head, I was so well restrained. Eventually, all movement stopped, I heard doors opening then closing, then the entrance to our part of the transport opened and I felt cool air flowing over me. A voice I didn’t recognise said, “Good pony. Just relax and we’ll soon have you settled.” Settled where? My restraints were released and I was led out of the vehicle. At first, I tried to stall, by the pull on my nose ring was insistent so I never really had a choice. As I was led, I could hear the sounds of waves and could smell sea air and knew we were near the coast. Dredging up memories of my first day at the estate, I knew we had to be at least twenty five miles away from the estate. I was led indoors, felt myself being hobbled and my nose ring attached to something, then my blinkers were opened. I was inside a small gloomy stable with only two stalls and I watched as Nightshade was secured in the one opposite mine, then the stall doors were closed and the bolts shot home. The light chain securing my nose ring to the wall of the stall was long enough for me to reach the door and look out, but apart from Nightshade looking back at me, there was nothing to see. The only decoration was the large water bottle near the door allowing me to drink, and the drain in the far corner that was clear of straw.
The day passed slowly for us with nothing to do except pee when the urge to do so came. With nothing to see or do I spent much of my time kneeling or lying in the straw letting my mind just freewheel as I had learned to do. When in my stall, I would either lie down or kneel but never sit. That was a human characteristic and I was a pony. There was nothing to prevent me sitting, but I had chosen not to do so, as a form of personal statement. It was about the only type of statement I could make anyway. Nightshade hadn’t yet come to that state and I heard her moving about restlessly before she too settled down. Later, we were fed and left alone. There was a small opening high up on one wall that let in some light but it soon became dark and it was obvious we were going to be ignored for the rest of the night.
We were woken up next morning and one at a time taken outside, Nightshade first. When my turn came, the air was brisk as I was led through some dunes and found myself standing on a shingle beach looking out over a secluded bay. There were high cliffs on either side and from where we were nobody could see into the bay except from the sea. I stood looking around until I felt the need and so just stood and peed as any pony would do first thing in the morning. I was taken back to my stall and the day progressed as slowly as the previous one. Again, we were fed and left for the night, but when next morning came I was led over to a wooden fence, and my nose ring secured holding me bent over the fence. My legs were pulled apart and secured, and I was then given my morning enema. I heard movement and was able to glance to the side and see Nightshade being secured just as I was. She looked at me and just raised her eyes as if to say, ‘Oh good grief!’ and at that I couldn’t help but see the funny side of things. I could imagine the picture if someone came along. Two naked women, their arms secured, legs spread wide apart, bent over a fence with large bags linked to plastic tubes sticking out of their arses!
We were cleaned up, watered and hobbled but instead of being taken back inside, we were led to a small horse box, the vehicle we had obviously been brought here in. We weren’t blindfolded but led into the van and tightly secured. The doors were closed, the engine started and we were off. When our journey ended and we were brought out of the horsebox, we found ourselves back in the stables. We were left in our stalls for a short while, than as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, we both found ourselves being hitched to a buggy and we each went off pulling a rider round the estate. Halfway round, we met Nightshade and her rider coming the other way so we all stopped for a chat. That is, our riders chatted, Nightshade and I just stood looking at each other and listening in to the conversation.
It wasn’t until being fed that night by Katia, did I find out what had been going on. Apparently, when conditions were right, the estate held a pony gymkhana. There were people, like our vet who came to drive ponies and enjoyed the fun of the day. However, because the majority of those attending usually were ponies themselves, a draw was made when everyone arrived. Everyone who was usually a pony would be split into pairs, drawn by lot, then one of the pair would draw a coloured ball from a bag. If it was white, then for the weekend, she would the owner of the other one who would stay as a pony. If the person drew a black ball, she was the pony. It must have been an interesting draw. Katia said that the ‘owners’ would be dressed in evening gowns and enjoy a party while the ponies remained locked away in their stalls. How severely they were treated, and secured for the night, within limits set by Lorraine, depended on the owners. Katia said that a number of bets were settled over the weekend, and possibly a few scores as well. Nightshade and I had been taken away as Lorraine didn’t want a couple of the guests who were there to know that she owned a couple of girls who were permanent pony girls.
A few days later, when only Nightshade and I were the only ponies in the stables, Lorraine, Katia and Nightshade’s groom, Ingrid came in and Lorraine addressed both of us. Nightshades eyes opened wide in surprise as it was the first time she had heard English being spoken since she became a pony.
“You both know Jasmine?” Jasmine appeared on a regular basis over the summer, usually just for a few days before returning to the outside world. When we both acknowledged that we knew her, Lorraine continued,
“She is often with us for a few days at a time and her sister is recorded as her owner. She has recently been made redundant from her work, and as she has no family other than her sister, she plans on spending a month here before travelling the world.” Lorraine paused, then went on, “However, her sister has been in touch with us and after talking things over with Katia, has said that she thinks that it would be good for Jasmine to stay with us until the spring. Margaret will bring her sister here tomorrow and leave her, but at the end of the month when she comes back and her sister expects to be released, Margaret will inform Jasmine that I have bought her and she will be staying here.” She continued, “Margaret has to attend a course in the States for five or six months but fears that her sister would become depressed. Rather than risk that, Jasmine will be under our care until her sister comes back. She will be left with the impression that she will become a permanent resident, just like you.” Lorraine looked at both of us in turn. “I’m telling you this in order that you can play along and not become upset or angry thinking that Jasmine is being betrayed and being sold into some kind of pony slavery.”
Funny, I thought that’s what had happened to Nightshade and me. However, I had no intention of spoiling anyone else’s fun, although I didn’t know what Jasmine would say when she finally learned the truth.
Jasmine duly appeared in a stall next day and joined us for exercise and buggy pulling for the month, then one day her sister Margaret appeared. Jasmine stood at the door of her stall waiting for it to be opened and for her to be released. Instead, Margaret leaned in, stroked her cheek and said,
“After every visit here, you’ve always been relaxed and happy. I know you’ve been really upset about losing your job and I’ve been worried about you, so I’ve given the matter a lot of thought for the past month. You’re only really happy when you are Jasmine, so I think it best if you stay Jasmine.” A look of shock, horror and disbelief crossed Jasmine’s harnessed face as Margaret continued. “I’ve sold you to Lorraine. She’ll look after you and care for you.” Margaret then reached in and removed the hard rubber bit Jasmine was wearing.
“What? But, but Margaret, you canghhhh.” Her speech was cut off as Margaret deftly fitted her sister with the same kind of bit I wore. Now Jasmine couldn’t even make anything approaching human speech.
“Goodbye Jasmine,” Margaret said. “I promise to come and see you in the spring. As she walked out of the stables, leaving her distraught sister locked in a stall, I thought Margaret should be a politician. She hadn’t lied yet she hadn’t told the truth.
From the time Jasmine was with us, nobody spoke English in our hearing. Jasmine trained with us every day for the next five months until one day her sister appeared and explained what had been happening. Jasmine’s bit was removed, but when she could speak, she told her sister that it would be best if she stayed harnessed and hobbled, because first chance she got she was going to do her sister an injury! A few weeks later, just before we were due to be bedded down for the night, a young woman wearing a full length evening dress appeared in our stable.
“Don’t you recognise me?” she asked. “What if I had a bit in my mouth?” Suddenly it dawned on me that it was Jasmine. She spend all evening with us, stroking us, feeding us sweet candy and generally fussing over us until she was chased out by our grooms coming to bed us down for the night. While she was with us, she told us what had prevented her from panicking or becoming depressed about the situation she thought she was in.
“It was you two,” she said. “You were always there with me and comforting me. The other thing was that I know just how much Lorraine cares for her ponies.”
Every now and then, Jasmine joins us for a few days at a time and sometimes for a longer spell. When she’s here, she often pulls her sister around and we watch as Margaret fusses with her pony, grooming her and playing with her. I don’t think Jasmine suffers from depression any more.
The seasons come and go and that’s about the only way I measure the passage of time. That and my monthly period, but apart from that, my life is fairly routine, but strangely for someone in my position, never boring. I haven’t mentioned pulling a buggy round the estate when it’s cold and raining heavily, or snowing. I’m wearing my rubber cape with a fleece lining and the first time I hesitated to move, thinking that the whip would have no effect, I discovered that the dildo I had in was capable of giving an electric shock. Also, there have been times when we’ve been left in the field and it has turned cold and started to rain. We would all stand together under some trees in one corner of the field and huddle together for warmth until our grooms came and collected us. The grooms continue to speak English, but only when Nightshade and I are the only ponies there, but sometimes, they switch to their own language so we can’t listen to what they’re saying. Instead of being annoyed, I find it amusing. It’s amazing how you can judge a person’s mood just by their tone of voice. I also suspect that our grooms don’t want us upset by mentioning something happening in the world outside the estate that could stir up forgotten memories of life as a person.
Summer passed and as autumn drew in, Nightshade and I continued to train as a pair. Nightshade had little bells fastened to her nipple rings that jingled as we moved. I eventually succumbed and indicated to Katia that I wanted to be ringed as well, which our grumpy vet duly did. Now we both jingle in unison. One day, after working in the exercise shed, we were standing waiting to be taken back to our stalls when Lorraine came in. Katia held my nose chain up close and stroked my face as Nightshade’s bit was removed and she was given a drink of water. I felt Katia grow tense, but I simply leaned on her and gave a soft whinny and she relaxed. When Nightshade had drunk, Lorraine addressed her.
“It’s been about a year since you came here, and I’m glad you seem to have accepted your fate. However, I feel that I have to apologise to you, just as I did last year to Honey. I’ve had your bit removed to give you the chance to say something to me. Take your time, because when that bit goes back in your mouth, it will probably never be removed.”
‘Unless Katia works her magic on you as she has me,’ I thought.
Nightshade stood licking her lips, looked at Lorraine and spoke in what was a loud whisper.
“Six or seven months ago I would probably be screaming at you to let me go, but now.” She paused, took a deep breath and continued. “If you were to release me from all my restraints and let me walk out of here, then in about six months I would either be in prison, or walking the streets as a prostitute to pay for a drug habit, or else I’d be dead. I wouldn’t have believed it a few months ago, but I’m actually a damn sight safer here with you.” She turned to look at me. “How about you Honey. Are you happy being kept as her pony girl for the rest of your life?”
Again, I felt Katia tense up but there were smiles all round when, after a moment to collect my thoughts, I raised one hoof and stamped once.
Nightshade smiled at me. “Then that’s good enough for me.” Then she surprised everyone by asking. “I see that you have CCTV cameras here. Do they also record sound?”
When Lorraine recovered from the surprise that her supposedly concealed cameras had been spotted, she confirmed that audio was also recorded.
“Then, for the record,” Nightshade went on, “I confirm that I freely give myself to Lorraine Knight and acknowledge her as my owner.”
It was quite a speech and left everyone stunned for a short time before Lorraine then asked,
“Are you prepared to write out and sign a document to that effect? It’s the same document Honey wrote out and signed.”
“Yes, I am,” was the immediate reply.
Lorraine responded, “Remember, this will commit you to being my pony for the rest of your life.”
Nightshade replied, “Yes, I’m aware of that. It will only put in writing something that already exists in fact.”
Then she went on, “Can I make a suggestion?” When Lorraine gave permission, Nightshade replied, “I know it can be uncomfortable, but can I ask that when Honey and I are pulling buggies we have our arms in that reverse prayer harness?”
“Why would you want that?” asked Lorraine.
“It’s easier to show off our tails,” was the reply, “and we can wiggle our bums a bit more.”
When the laughter had died down, Lorraine said she would consider it then ordered the bit replaced. Nightshade didn’t even flinch. We were led back to our stalls then a short while later, Nightshade knelt and wrote out the document that Lorraine had printed out and that I had signed the previous year. Like mine, this document was then witnessed by three of the grooms and then Nightshade had her arms resecured and was then returned to her stall. It was at this time that we also found out that there were a number of people throughout the world who had become permanent ponies. After being fed that evening, our grooms spent time fussing over us and grooming us before we were settled down for the night. After that, Nightshade would join me for our regular shower, and not once did she utter a sound.
The following day, Lorraine came to see us when we were in the exercise yard. That was when we found out that there were other pony stables throughout the world, with five others here in Britain. There were frequent visits to pony farms throughout Europe. People would travel to an event, change into pony tack and become ponies for the duration, before becoming people again and travelling back. As permanent ponies, Nightshade and I were limited to being taken to events in this country only. Of course, we travelled in a modified horse box, tightly restrained. Lorraine told us, one day, that the police had raided a pony farm in another part of the country because they thought someone was being held against their will as a pony. There was a hearing before a local magistrate, fortunately in private, where a document similar to what we had signed was produced. A psychologist testified that the person who had signed the document had all her faculties, was in sound mind and was not under any threat or coercion. As it was apparent that every care was taken of the girl, the magistrate decided that no laws had been broken. If the horse box carrying nightshade or I was ever stopped, the documents we had signed, together with what would be regarded as legal precedent, would keep Lorraine and the estate safe. However, as we were now liable to be taken anywhere in the country, we both had an RFID chip inserted just under the skin near the shoulder, just like any other livestock being transported around. I had a fleeting thought of what would happen if something occurred and I was identified. I was supposed to be missing, presumed dead in a swimming accident. I had committed no crime, wasn’t running from justice. Also, not only had I not defrauded anyone, all my estate, such as it was, including my family home, would go to the government. I’m sure Lorraine had it all worked out. I wasn’t in a position to ask anyway.
Our training continued, and when we’re out pulling buggies, and sometimes when were left in the field, our arms were locked into a reverse prayer with our elbows touching and arms encased in a leather pouch. In fact, the reverse prayer position became permanent. The leather harness used to hold our arms was replaced with a steel bar that was incorporated into our harness, and ran from our collars down to our waists. Our hands were laced into stiff leather mitts, then steel cuffs were locked round our wrists, our arms were pulled behind us and locked to the bar. Out arms were then pushed up and the ratchet on the bar prevented any downward movement. When our elbows touched, the leather pouch was refitted. I soon became used to the restraint, and often the only time I even became aware of my arms, was when the leather mitts were removed and my nails cut and filed. Our sleeping boards were modified to accommodate the new arm restraints, and life continued as normal, well as normal for a pony girl, that is. The other change was when I had my shower. The steel restraints were detached from my leather body harness, and a plastic strap was attached to the top of the bar, passed under my armpits and secured to the bottom of the bar. This wasn’t to enhance any bondage, but was rather an act of kindness. The muscles, tendons and ligaments in my arms had become locked into position and any attempt to move them from the reverse prayer position produced intolerable agony for me.
When Nightshade and I were training to work as a pair, the chain between our nose rings was progressively shortened until it was only just long enough for us to move with a couple of inches between our shoulders. However, by that time, we were so much in sync with each other that it never pulled. Then came the summer and this time we were there for the gymkhana. At the end there was a parade of ponies pulling their owners and bringing up the rear came a carriage with Lorraine and three guests pulled by, according to Katia who was acting as MC, ‘The finest pair of ponies in the land.’ We didn’t walk, we pranced, nipple bells jingling and tails swishing from side to side and as we moved round the field, everyone cheered us and even the other ponies stamped their hooves in approval. I had never felt so proud in my life.
I sometimes wonder what connections Lorraine has or what influence she has. I’ve often seen people, always women, in business attire walking around with clipboards or notepads. We even had a fire brigade inspection and the two people who came were also women. No doubt, if any men are coming we are locked away out of sight. Needless to say, I’m not in a position to ask!
There are times, when I’ve been locked in my stall in the evening, that I wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t been ensnared by Lorraine. Even while working on my degree, I knew that the hospitality industry would probably be challenging. In other words, I would have been constantly looking for a better position, or just trying to stay one jump ahead of redundancy. Now, my life is much simpler. I’m a great deal healthier, with all the constant exercise and fresh air I get. I can pull a buggy, with two people in it, all day without getting tired or sore. I could run a marathon these days, but I think that would raise a few eyebrows as well as difficult questions! Of course, the muscles in my arms have atrophied to the point that my arms are practically useless. There are times I miss things, like having a nice meal, or a drink. However, after four years I don’t know how my body would handle solid food. Also, between the daily enemas and wearing a butt plug continuously, I don’t know if the muscles controlling my bowels would work properly. I sometimes miss wearing clothes, although by now, they would probably feel uncomfortable and restrictive to me. I thought about shoes, but after wearing pony boots for all this time, I figured that the muscles, tendons and ligaments in my legs would mean I would have to wear something with at least a 4” heel. Anything smaller would now cause me pain and discomfort. I used to like reading, but that was in a different world. I liked to listen to music, but the only music I hear these days is soothing classical stuff designed to promote a calm atmosphere in the stables unless we’re being transported somewhere. Then we can hear whatever music is being played on the transport’s audio system. It is a matter of policy with all the pony farms and pony transports, that news, current affairs programmes or anything that would give an insight into the outside world are never put on if a pony could hear it. We live in a different world now, and are kept in it.
I don’t miss the general rat race, and I have absolutely no idea what is happening in the world. At university, there were always debates about politics, global warming, gender equality or the favourite at the time, ‘Women are not chattels.’ I wonder what some of the girls I listened to, would say if they saw me now. I thought I would miss wearing makeup, but Lorraine, and most of the grooms, like to see their ponies looking glamorous, so I am often made up by Katia. I find the grooming and make up sessions extremely relaxing and enjoyable. Katia, told me that all the ponies like these sessions. In fact, I’m groomed, massaged, have beauty cream rubbed into my skin, have manicures, pedicures and have my make up applied. I even have someone clean my teeth. In fact, we even have a dentist. When she comes here as a pony, her name is Sapphire, but at other times her name is Margaret. She will check the teeth of any pony and carry out any dental work if asked, but when she does, the pony is tightly strapped down on her night bed and Margaret employs a dental gag. She says she doesn’t have to but, “If you’re a pony, let’s treat you as a pony.”
All I have to do is pull a buggy and obey my reins. Despite my current state, I know that things could have been a lot worse for me. I could have been badly treated or even sold, so I’m fortunate that Lorraine keeps her word.
A psychologist would have a field day with us ponies, especially Nightshade and me, but I don’t care. Am I upset or concerned at the way I have been dehumanised? No. Two years ago, Nightshade asked me if I was happy being kept as a pony and I signalled yes, however, I think a better answer would be, I’m contented. I’m safe, loved and cared for. What more could a pony girl ask for?