Author's Note: Author's Note: I re-discovered this partial story on an old PC. I started it about five years ago and decided to play around with it again while on holiday. As per my other story, my command of written English especially punctuation has never been that good, so please allow a little leeway. Once again I am into a dark tale of non-consensual slavery and human-animal play. If people are interested, I will add additional chapters as and when I can. Sorry if it's a bit slow, but that is how I write

Chapter 1 - Background to an Idea

It was around seven one evening in late spring when I first discovered what was to change my life entirely. As usual there was nothing on TV likely to capture my attention for very long despite the plethora of channels available. The usual crop of soap operas, much-repeated news, moronic reality and game shows and second-rate documentaries on obscure topics seemed the standard fare on offer.

Consequently, and as so often before I turned to the internet for entertainment. Did I want to play one of the online games I subscribed to? No. I wasn't in the mood for killing monsters or chatting with guildmates, most of whom would be absent anyway having moved to pasture new as the latest generation of multi-player pixels became available for electronic violence, or maybe they were huddled alone over there Xbox's or whatever.

Browse books to buy or peruse eBay, nope, loads of unread material on both my kindle and iPad already and eBay was just impulse browsing anyway, nothing I needed desperately or probably needed at all. Holiday browse again perhaps? I had not had a holiday as such for many years. I usually stayed at home and pottered about the farm. This year I had semi made up my mind to do something different. Book a package holiday to somewhere exotic. Nice, but I wasn't a 'laze around on the beach in a bikini' type person. I was not much of a 'bikini babe' anyway. Being somewhat petite in stature and slightly underdeveloped in the bust department. I don't so much need a top, more a small strip of ribbon.

That left my other fancy that was slowly growing, Pony trekking. I had taken riding lessons when I was younger and had also worked Saturday afternoons as a stable girl at my local riding school. I had enjoyed that, especially the ponies and young colts and fillies. I was always a little scared of the older stallions and bigger mares, something to do with my diminutive size I suppose, even today only standing four feet ten in my bare feet. They wouldn't have let me ride one anyway although I had a yen to do so. I remembered the smell still, a heady mixture of horse, earth, sweat, dung, fresh straw, leather tack, that overall animal odour.

I also nearly had my first orgasm on a pony while out one Sunday afternoon, trotting at the tail end of a string of fourteen-year old's. My beast being more than a touch overweight was inclined to be lazy, and we kept on falling behind the group. Mrs Frobisher was the lead rider and also owned the riding school that was a part of the farm she ran with her husband. She cantered back to me. "Keep up girl, keep up, don't let him lag like that."

"How?" I had asked somewhat apologetically. I was slightly scared of Mrs Frobisher. She was at least six feet tall, lean but with a good figure, harsh-voiced and always with a semi-permanent haughty, superior expression on her face. In her younger days, she had been a successful show jumper and even competed for team GB at the Olympics. I had the impression that she wasn't entirely happy in her marriage and rather resented her present circumstances. A fact confirmed a few years later when she featured in all the tabloid newspapers for a few days after catching her husband and a young (but legal age) stable girl in a very compromising situation. All she'd done was lash out a few times with her riding crop.

She was arrested for assault following a complaint from the girl's parents, and naturally, all the tabloids made a meal of it. 'Horse Mistress flogs amorous stable girl', etc. A whole bevvy of similar headlines abounded as I recalled for the next few days and then again at the magistrates hearing. She got off with a fine and a number of hour's community service. She also got the riding school and a fair part of her ex-husband's farm in the subsequent divorce. Her husband got the (pregnant) stable girl much to the latter's parents' fury. They boycotted the eventual wedding entirely.

"Use your whip girl. What do you think it's for? It's not some damn fashion accessory to your outfit" she had snapped while simultaneously dragging on her reins and wheeled the large stallion she was mounted on around and galloped back to the front of the group. " Teach the lazy beast who is in charge" she shouted over her shoulder.

I was always impressed with her horsemanship. The commanding presence she exerted over all her mounts. There were one or two known troublemakers stalled in the stables. Large stallions. Students were not allowed to ride them, and those helping in the stables had to be accompanied by a more experienced handler if having anything to do with them. Inevitably these were the mounts Mrs Frobisher chose. Rarely was there any resistance shown to her. The one occasion I saw one get rather frisky and jumpy after mounting she had savagely hauled its head nearly upright on a tight rein, while shouting "still" a few times and lashing out several times with her riding crop on its flank and rump, it immediately quieted.

I took her advice, indeed her command and applied a light swipe to my mounts rump with the switch I carried. Indeed, it was the first time I had ever used it. Well, not entirely true. I can recall admiring my reflection in the bedroom mirror while outfitted in jodhpurs, jacket, hat, and shiny high black riding boots and then giving my bottom an experimental tap. A little too hard. It hurt. Quite the perfect little equestrian aged fourteen. Looking back now I can also remember feeling a slight tingle within me at the time although I did not recognise why.

The light swipe did not affect my mount one iota and slightly fearful of lagging further behind and incurring a second visit from Mrs Frobisher; I applied a couple of harder ones. I had no real reason to be afraid of her. She was just one of those people that you inevitably feel a little apprehensively about. I think it was partly her height and also the commanding and rather intolerant air she had about her. My school headmistress also had that same effect on pupils and parents alike. My father defined it as the 'don't mess with me' aura!

A couple of harder swipes with the crop and the young filly I was riding leapt forward. I had to rein back a touch; otherwise, I'd have soon been up front alongside the formidable Mrs Frobisher. However, the trotting motion, up and down up and down as I bumped in the saddle and the act of cropping the beast, exerting my will had a rather peculiar effect on me. I felt growing wetness at my crotch and a strong sense of sexual arousal. I wasn't naive about such things. I knew all about orgasms from the modern women's magazines available plus numerous chats with school girlfriends and the odd sex lesson our senior school curriculum insisted we have. Those lessons as I recall were clinically biological and predominantly aimed at the various methods for avoiding getting pregnant rather than on the joys of sex.

I didn't achieve orgasm, but the sensation was quite delicious, and I was a bit disappointed when we arrived back at the stables to the mundane chores of removing saddles and tack and rubbing down our mounts. I raced back home and up to my bedroom. Boots, jodhpurs, and panties off and then laying back on my bed stimulating myself with my fingers. It wasn't the first time I'd played with myself; I'd indulged before but never achieved any success other than a certain initial dampness. I had never been to that 'heaven' where Gloria Johnson claimed to go every time she masturbated accompanied by a picture of her favourite boy band member. Three times last night she would gleefully boast during our between lesson breaks.

Maybe my problem was that I never had a favourite boy band member or girl band member come to that or anyone else. I know my parents worried about me. I never had a boyfriend. I remember once hearing my mother remark when she thought I was not around, that at least I wasn't interested in girls either thank goodness. On reflection, I think my parents were perhaps more than a bit homophobic. They needn't have worried. True I was not the least interested in boys. In general, I found them clumsy, loutish, unattractive and tedious. Girls I got on with better but only in a social context as friends and schoolmates. As I grew older, my circle of friends lessened considerably as their interests blossomed to encompass romance, relationships, marriage, children and so forth. I rarely kept in touch with people.

My first ever orgasm and probably the most intense I would experience for a long time was while laying back on my bed after that Sunday afternoon ride. I came almost as soon as I started to finger myself and then a second and third time. That was the only time I'd ever achieved multiple orgasms despite trying on other occasions since. Strange that I never examined the reasons as to why I climaxed so quickly that day and why I enjoyed the quick succession of repetitions. In hindsight now, of course, I understand the reason. It was that heady combination of pony movement coupled with the exhilarating feeling of masterful omnipotence over the beast beneath me as I cropped it into submission to my will. Sadly, despite the intensity of the experience it rapidly passed from my memory. An excited fourteen-year-old would relate not just one, but three orgasms achieved yesterday to her circle of friends the next day. Yes, three. Wow, cool, like unbelievable and similar responses but a tedious algebra lesson followed by an equally dull geography period soon dulled the memory of a pleasant experience and more importantly what had triggered it.

I never hit the same high again. A couple more years at school followed by Uni. The odd short relationship. I lost my virginity at the advanced age of nineteen to a slightly older guy with whom I thought I was in love. It didn't last. We split up after a few months. Our lovemaking became monotonous and tedious. Always the missionary position. Always him poking me and coming after a short spate of thrusts. I realised one night that I loathed the guy. That was also the night he wanted me to suck his dick. I remember looking with repulsion at the reddened stubby half erect organ he was pathetically waving at me. The one that had poked me almost every night for the last three months and yet had never done anything for me other than empty it's seed into my vagina. Yes, I was on the pill, and no lover boy would not use a condom on account of being Catholic. That's about as far as his religion went. Never went to church or anything but a good excuse for riding me bareback!

I refused even to contemplate what he wanted. We rowed and split the next day thank god. He was my first and to date, my last lover. I surreptitiously bought a little vibrator on a girlfriends advice and used that on the rare occasions I felt randy which wasn't very often. After Uni I remained single, went into accountancy, became I suppose, a reliable but boring little mouse. I was a natural loner. My sex life was non-existent, and my only intimate contact never went beyond the odd annual boozy good-natured grope at the Xmas office party in the finance department of the big London company that employed me.

My parents sadly both passed on, and I inherited the family home if you could call it that. An isolated old farmhouse well off the beaten track about twenty minutes' drive from Norwich in Norfolk. It had once been the centrepiece of a thriving farm, but most of the surrounding land had long since been sold off leaving just the main house, some outbuildings in various states of decay, a wooded area and a couple of smallish overgrown paddocks.

My mother who had survived my father by a couple of years died around the time I was made redundant due to a significant takeover of my firm by a prominent German multi-national company. They offered me another post, but I decided to opt for redundancy and take advantage of a generous offer that was available. I didn't need it as my parents had been reasonably well off and never been big spenders. I was also bored and truth to tell, rather lonely in the capital. I felt it might be nice to return to Norfolk and take up residence in the country again. I needed a lifestyle change, but never could have I envisaged at the time that it would lead to such a significant difference in my life and interests and also have a very severe and unfortunate impact on others.

Ok, so the bikini was probably out. I didn't have one anyway. What did I want from a holiday? Romance? Not really. I'd never hankered after Mr. right and having just turned thirty felt even less interested in it. Sun? Nice but I could live without it. Anyway, I burned pretty easy. I was never one to go bronze or pine for the tanning parlour. Company? Perhaps. I was becoming something of a recluse. Probably have to go on some sort version of a package holiday to get that and what kind of company would it be? Possibly unwelcome, potentially dull, also inescapable for a set period. Hmmm.

An activity holiday perhaps. What about going riding again or pony trekking then? Maybe the company would be more interesting with a common theme. Were there holidays that went from a to b through to c and so forth rather than just out and back from the same stables every day. My first proper holiday for a long time and I warmed to the theme and switched on my desktop PC. As the hard drive beeped and LED's flashed, my life was about to change and so would that of a young woman living in another country far away. Neither of us knew it yet, but our futures were to be linked, one for better and one for worse and for me, it would not be the worse!


Chapter 2 - An idea better than Pony Trekking

God, this thing, gets slower I thought. Ah, ready, finally. Fast broadband internet was about the only thing I missed from London. Our local connection speed was adequate at best. What was I looking for? Pony trekking, girls around my own age for company, holiday. My fingers tapped out the words pony, girl, holiday trekking into the search engine followed by the return key. The results came up, and I clicked automatically on the first link without paying much attention to it. I was half thinking of getting a coffee and went to make one even as I clicked on the key. I needed to feed my dog as well.

I sat down again. I stared at the image on the screen in front of me. I don't recall how long I sat and stared at the screen. It can't have been all that long. It felt like a long time. It was without a doubt one of those 'life changing' moments. Maybe such events always seem to last for a long time even if in reality they are only a few seconds long.

There was an image on the screen. A drawing or rather what I believe is called a CG image. It depicted a near naked young woman, nude apart from a rather severe-looking black leather body harness that restrained her. On her head, she wore another type of harness with a tall red feather-like plume sticking up vertically. Her face was contorted into a fearful grimace, her eyes flashing a mixture of fear, anger, apathy, and despair. It was all there. The artist was terrific whoever he or maybe she was. A bar partly covered her mouth, a bit, in fact, just like people used on horses I realised as I took in the details in the picture. Her long naked legs were sheathed in black knee-high length high heeled boots - no not high heeled, there were no heels, they ended in what looked like horses hoofs of all things. Her breasts, thighs and flanks were crisscrossed with numerous wicked red stripes.

A wide leather belt encircled the young woman's waist and was attached on each side to a pair of long wooden shafts leading back to a small two-wheeled buggy type of cart upon which two figures were seated. Both of them were women and lounging in cushioned comfort on their unusual conveyance. On the right sat an older woman negligently holding a long set of reins in her gloved right hand. The reins led forward to the bit in the harnessed girls mouth. The woman was mature and formally dressed in red riding coat, dressage style top hat, leather gloves, beige jodhpurs tucked into gleaming black riding boots. Next to her wearing a short summer dress sat a smaller and much younger looking girl with long blonde hair framing a rather innocent and angelic looking face. However, there was nothing innocent about the long, vicious whip she was wielding as she flicked it forward clearly aiming to add yet another painful red stripe to the tormented girl between the shafts. Nor was there anything innocent in the way the older woman had her left arm right around her youthful companion, a leather gloved hand visibly fondling the younger girl's left breast.

I stared at the picture quite mesmerised for some seconds. Of course, I'd seen porn before. Who hasn't? The internet is full of such stuff not that I had ever conscientiously gone looking for such. It just wasn't my thing - or rather hadn't been up to now. That was about to change.

That picture fascinated me. It hit me in the right spot almost like an electric shock. Talk about triggers being pulled, or buttons pressed, we'll mine were well and truly pulled and pushed and I went off instantly just as if I was a gun being fired. Unconsciously I parted my thighs, and my right hand reached down to massage my crotch. I was hot and wet just from looking at that one image.

The expression on that poor bound girl's face and the way the two women were using her to pull that cart as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The older woman's relaxed posture and her obvious interest in the girl beside her rather than the unfortunate woman in front of her. The casual way she almost seemed to be ignoring the woman on the end of her reins as if such a thing was an everyday norm in her world. The laughing face of the young girl as she wielded that nasty looking whip without any apparent concern as to the pain she might be causing her victim. Indeed, her expression gave the impression that she delighted in leaving those vicious red stripes on her helpless victim's skin. Again, such practice was evidently the norm in their particular world.

I continued to stare fascinated by the image. I imagined that carriage bouncing along pulled by the woman in the bondage harness. How fast could she go? How did she manage in those horses heeled like boots? That whip must hurt. Could she even scream with that bit like a gag in her mouth? I noticed that her arms were tightly and probably painfully bound behind her back. She had no way to escape, no option, no refusal just had to run and pull and hope to avoid that whip through her efforts. Was she whipped all the time or just to speed her up? How must those exposed breasts bounce about? Was she doing this for fun like some sort of masochist? Surely not. They were treating her like....like she was merely an animal!

My fingers found what they were looking for between my legs and began to massage my clit. I was very wet, wetter down there than I had been in years. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had my fingers down there or even used my vibrator where ever it was now. In my imagination, I sat in that cart. I held the reins and that long whip. Forget the little blonde, I wasn't gay and fondling some teens tits was not likely to turn me on. The woman in harness though was a different matter. Those bouncing tits and arse cheeks! How I would have liked to wield the whip on them and make them jiggle and dance to my tune. Did that mean I was a closet BDSM type gay? No, she was not a woman, she was a sort of animal, a helpless beast to be used at my behest. I came at that moment in what was for me a pretty massive orgasm that seemed to go on for quite a while. I shuddered and groaned in pleasure, my juices flowing freely to saturate my panties and jeans. The aroma of an aroused and sexually sated woman filled the air banishing the odour of fresh coffee from my desk space.

I spent the next few hours exploring further. What a great medium the internet was. I book-marked the page in my favourites and also created a file folder titled 'horse girls' to save the image on my screen. Sipping my coffee slowly, I began to utilise the seemingly infinite resources of the world wide web. To my disappointment, the picture that had caught my attention so effectively seemed to be a one-off. It was titled 'Madam's afternoon ride .' The site I was on seemed to be a bondage one. There were variously themed subsections, rubber, lesbian, leather, indoor, outdoor, etc. The one I had landed on was called 'pet girls'. I perused a succession of drawings and photos, some singles, some part of a series and all depicting woman in one way or another either willing or unwilling imitating some form of an animal. There were many cats and kittens, dogs and puppies, cows with huge breasts, a couple of exotic birds and one or two other types. However, by far the most numerous were the horse like girls. There must have been a couple of hundred of them. Ponygirls was the standard tag.

The site was a free one put together by someone with pictures they had collected off the internet. Indeed, they said this was just a small sample of their collection, and for a small one-off fee, you could have full access to the main collection. God, if this was a small sample, then how big was the main collection and how much of this stuff was there on the internet? The mind boggled. Was it legal anyway to put pictures up that you didn't own? Probably not but that was only a brief passing thought as I investigated further.

I renamed my recently created folder. I called it human animals and added a subfolder titled ponygirls. My interest was well and truly captured. I spent several hours on that site and then on a few others. I was right there was loads of material out there in the vast void that was the internet.

I typed 'pony girl' into the search engines or 'pet girl' and began saving bookmarks. I created a favourites folder specially for them. I quickly found out that the material fell into several categories. There were photos and drawings or some other types of art. The photos tended to fall into two types. There were high-quality glossy girlie magazine-type images of harnessed girls invariably smiling at the camera. Smiling! Many of them single poses but occasionally a duo. I also came across a few that included a scantily clad or near nude whip-wielding mistress. The makeup was always immaculate. Rouged cheeks, gleaming white teeth clamped down on loosely applied mouth bits, between glossy red lips. Leather or latex harness glistening in its pristine newness. Not a red whip mark to be seen. No blood sweat and tears here. Page three with a bit and head harnesses. Hmmm. I'd bet anything that all those fearsome looking leather harness straps would have hardly even been tightened either. Mustn't leave any marks on that nubile flesh because of the little darlings next photo-shoot!

The other type of photos looked somewhat more homemade frequently being of a smaller size and much lower quality. They tended to depict a variety of woman of all ages in an extensive range of head and body harnesses. In general, these women were older than the glossy professional models, and many of the pictures were taken outside rather than studio posed. They wore their different outfits and harnesses with a bit more realism and not quite so many fixed smiles although not one looked truly terrified. Unlike the posed bimbo's many of the pictures often featured a master type figure rather than a mistress. Many of the photo's seemed to have been taken at some event or gathering. They had that sameness and feeling to them. Apparently, the people posing were couples, mostly Male/female although there were the occasional Female/female and even a couple of Male/male ones. I also saw a few wearing those horse style boots rather than the stilettos the glossy models always wore.

They pulled carts, stood waiting patiently with reins looped over posts and rails or were led by about by their owners, some in pairs some single. Others wore saddles of varying sizes. Most stood upright, but some were down on all fours. One or two even wore nosebags or had their heads in water troughs. Despite the plethora of whips and crops on display, hardly a single one appeared to have been used on any of the subjects.

I liked the art pictures much better. The range was huge from simple pen and ink sketches through to large detailed computer-generated images. The subject was a popular one. There were lots in a sort of Japanese Asian cartoony style that I disliked. Way too many of those images of huge-eyed women and girls in what I thought were rather weak and unrealistic drawings. Maybe that was just my western perspective as some people must like them from the amount available.

Over the course of the next day or so, I soon established a portfolio of pictures that appealed to me. Generally faithful to life type images of harnessed and helpless women being used as beasts of burden as they laboured for their respective mistresses. (The ones with masters didn't do anything for me). Pulling carts or buggies, being ridden, or even ploughing fields and always under the threat of whip or crop. Those that carried the marks of such implements were the ones I liked best.

A frantic search through my dressing table saw my little pink vibrator emerge from its long hibernation and that weekend it saw more use than in most of the previous decade. Thank god the batteries were still good! I remember laying back on my bed late Saturday afternoon. Legs wide apart, post-orgasmic juices trickling down on to the damp duvet cover, breasts still heaving in the aftermath of my third orgasm of the day. Three! Just what the hell was going on?

My favourite was a sequence featuring a ponygirl called Beauty. It probably shouldn't even have been available. It was a 'jailbait' series as it featured a very young pre-pubescent girl. There were thirty frames, all in colour, very well drawn. There were no cartoon-like speech bubbles or attendant written narrative, merely headings that left the viewer to use their own imagination. I never found out who the artist was nor came across any more examples of their work though I frequently looked.

The first few frames featured an auction attended by Mary-Beth and her mother. They were going to buy a pony for her birthday, but not just any old pony, it was to be a human one.

Several frames were labelled choices one, two, three, etc. as Mary-Beth and her mother closely inspected various human ponies both male and female. I loved the way the artist had captured the hopeless emotion expressed on the faces of the helplessly restrained creatures as they were intimately examined.

Another set was simply labelled auction one, two three, etc. Mary-Beth and her mother sat in the front row of a small group of people as bidding commenced. The buyers were a diverse group. They ranged from corpulent businessmen, Arabs in traditional dress, women of various ages from a pair of gorgeous looking young model types to an aged and wicked looking well-dressed matron. The latter also sat in the front row casually holding the leash of a human male dog that knelt beside her. African style leaders, a man in severe religious robes and a dark-eyed woman wearing the traditional head to foot black burka common in some ultra-conservative countries.

Some frames featured the ponies on the auction block, others the successful buyers leading away their new purchases. The one showing the two young models leading away a tall pony boy was particularly good. The terrified expression on his face contrasting with the cruel one on one of the model types already wielding her crop viciously.

There was one frame titled purchase as Mary-Beth bought a strong muscular Amazon type ponygirl. The remaining frames were titled training, riding, and broken. Mary-Beth aided by her mother and a whip ruthlessly trained the girl who was not the only occupant of the stables as other ponies both male and female featured. Mary-Beth's mother apparently had quite a collection. The final frame showed the mother riding in an elegant carriage pulled by two pairs of well whip marked ponies, Males in front and females behind. Next to her rode young Mary-Beth, black riding hat, red coat, jodhpurs, boots, crop, and spurs. Her mount the unfortunate Amazon now bent forward, harnessed, helpless, saddled, bridled and broken. A proud Mary-Beth rode at her ease while her sweaty mount marked savagely from crop and spurs desperately ran alongside the carriage carrying her young burden.

I often returned to that set and exercised my pink sex toy as well as my imagination. I remembered my riding orgasm of many years before. God if only I could have had my own Amazon! I fantasied a lot. Did I want some pretty pet all dolled up in lipstick and mascara, smelling sweet and straight out of a men's wank mag........no I wanted a sweating, smelly rebellious animal carrying the marks of my crop, cane, and whip on her wretched hide? I remembered Mrs Frobisher. I would stand no nonsense from my strong, proud filly or mare. I would show them who was boss and tame her. I wanted to saddle her, ride her, rake my sharp pointed spurs down her long hind legs and hear her whinny in pain and fear!

My pink vibrator was certainly getting a lot of overtime; I even bought a second larger one plus a battery charger and some rechargeable batteries off eBay. I spent hours on the internet looking at one site after another and accumulated quite a collection of photos, artwork, video clips and stories. Even Amazon I discovered had a reasonable amount of erotic fiction Kindle books available on or related to the theme.

My favourite writer always amused me. He or she had a number of excellent stories on the subject, always very dark and extremely non-consensual. They invariably always started off with a bold, italic preamble warning, to the effect that what they were writing about was not very nice and not to read if you were easily offended, etc. Also, that the story was pure fiction and that the events described would be utterly abhorrent if carried out in reality with the appalling degree of cruelty and degradation inflicted.

Really? It was the descriptions of 'cruelty and degradation' being inflicted that turned me on. I suspect that I am by no means alone in that. However, how many people had the means to turn their fantasy's into reality? Did people do that, and that question started me on a whole new train of research.

Once again the internet provided me with a vast amount of material. God, if the police ever took a look at my hard drive, they'd have all the evidence they'd ever need! Kidnappings were reasonably common it seemed, sadly too often involving children. Now that was genuinely abhorrent, and I had absolutely no interest in that. There were several well-documented cases of long-term kidnappings that had all ended with the victim's release and the captor's imprisonment. I frequently wondered just how many cases there were that had gone undocumented because no one had ever found out about them?

Many of the stories and books I'd read revolved around wealthy influential people who invariably had super discrete private estates where they trained, bought and sold stock, even bred them also frequently held races or auctions of their many unwilling captives. Did such places exist? Was there a global network of owners? Did some nubile Hollywood starlet have her private kennel complete with a quartet of human male dogs that she'd whipped into grovelling canine obedience? Did some Arab princess control a stable of helpless male and female equines? Did some corrupt African potentate regularly take a carriage for a spin with half a dozen white two-legged mares and stallions harnessed between the tracers?

Well if they did, I certainly had no way of finding out. Indeed, I strongly suspected that poking one's nose into such situations would neither be wise or prudent. I had no desire to end up in a kennel or a stall as a forgotten missing person statistic. Anyway, who would even report me?

That sent me to bed with another line of thought to consider. Just how many people did go missing every year? Yes, there was often a major outcry when a child or young woman went missing, articles in the daily newspapers, on the news, regular updates and appeals from the police to the public. Yet one was always reading about kids running away from home, homeless people and the like. Surely there was a lot of, of.... sort of undocumented people out there. People who would not be missed because they were already missing?


Chapter 3 - Planning and execution of an idea

I remember precisely when the idea came to me. My very own road to Damascus moment. I'd run out of groceries again. I was always doing that. I wasn't a fussy eater and rarely planned my meals just eating what I had in the refrigerator or cupboards. On this occasion, I had let things run on for too long, and the cupboard was bare thus necessitating an emergency run to my nearest supermarket. I'd gone out to the old stable building I used as a garage for my rather elderly little car.

I'd half thought of getting a horse a couple of times and taking up riding again but then always discarded the idea. Too much work and was I actually all that keen? I stared momentarily at the old empty stalls. I had sat up late the previous night having found a lengthy new story on the internet, quite a juicy non-consensual one and my vibrator had also seen some extended use. I stopped dead. But what about....no...it was impossible....silly. I seem to remember shaking a little. But what if it was possible?

What if instead of looking at a miscellaneous collection of mouldering old junk I was staring at my very own ponygirl. My ponygirl bridled and bitted, tethered in her stall, the apprehension no fear in her eyes as I, her owner approached. The recent marks of my whip visible on pale hide overlaying the many older ones that crisscrossed on buttocks, back and breasts. The stench of sweat, stale piss and shit, leather tack and unwashed animal odour and above all, fear. What if? Indeed, what if? I drove to the supermarket that day deep in thought.

That probably would have been the end of it, but a couple of days later I was in the nearby village. Most people go to the post office to buy stamps and the like. My local village post office sells them along with about a zillion other things being a small convenience store as well. It was the last place I would have expected to find a human pony!

Well to be honest the Asian couple who ran it did not sell me one although it was probably about the only thing they didn't stock. I'd been astonished the previous week by them having an ink cartridge for my old printer! No, it was a conversation I accidentally overheard while waiting to return a 'wrong item' back to an eBay seller.

Two plump farmers wives, at least I assumed that's who they were stood talking before me in the short queue.

"Of course, they are all illegals, no one knows about them".

"Where does he get them from"?

"Some gangmaster, he calls him up and tells him how many he needs for the job and for how long. He pays the guy less than the minimum wage who then probably pays them a pittance, plus they get board and lodgings deducted while they are on the job whatever it is. Potato picking, veg peeling or whatever."

"Slave Labour"!

"That's what it amounts to. Men and women. He's been nabbed by the authorities before, but he still does it. Says it's cheaper to pay the fine and carry on than hire proper people. Half of them apparently do a runner anyway from those caravans of his and who knows where they end up?

"Surprised he's got the guts for something like that. My Charlie knows him, ses he 's weaker than a piece of wet toilet tissue and folds at the slightest pressure he does. All mouth and now't in his trousers!"

My ears had picked up. I had been idly contemplating a tin of Irish stew on a nearby shelf as a quick and easy lunch item when my attention switched. The conversation died as one woman became the next customer at the grill. My mind worked fast, so fast that being by nature rather a shy and reserved person I surprised myself.

"Was that Bob Jenkins farm you were talking about?" I enquired in a slightly disapproving tone. "I heard he'd been in trouble again with the immigration people."

The woman turned to look at me and shook her head. No love, never heard of him although it wouldn't surprise me, half of them are on the fiddle these days."

I laughed. "So, what's new."

"True", the woman shook her head. "It were that Thomas Granger, him that has Grange Farm down Church road aways."

Conversation ceased at that point as it was her turn to be served. I don't think I ever saw her again. It's funny the way things can turn out. That brief, casual chat was another major turning point in my journey towards human pony ownership.

A quick survey via Google maps showed me the location of Grange farm and a day in town looking at back copies of the local newspaper gave me some background information on farmer Grangers previous conviction. Google maps even showed the caravans that he used to accommodate his illegals. The only downside was that according to the report in the paper the magistrates had indicated that they would be less lenient were he to be caught employing illegal labour again. Had I discovered something too late?

The farm was about eight miles from my house by road and on the opposite side of the village. I drove past for the first time the following morning, slowing down both ways to peer through a rather sparse hedgerow. Fortunately, the caravans were parked not too far from the narrow country lane. Evidently, farmer Granger didn't give a four xxxx who saw what was going on. There were three dilapidated caravans parked at the edge of a field on a crumbling strip of concrete. Maybe they were just too far gone to be moved. I saw at least three flat tyres, and two caravans leaned to one side. That was not the first time I reconnoitred the site. I did that twice a week for the next two months. I was on the verge of giving up when finally, I spotted some garments hanging on a line sagging between one caravan and a nearby tree.

Next day I parked my car near the church which gave the road its name, hoisted a small pack on my back, slung a pair of cheap binoculars around my neck and went bird watching. I giggled a bit at the thought. Well, I was after one type of particular bird, wasn't I? Anyway, it was just a game. Sometimes I took Raven the young black German shepherd dog I'd recently bought for company.

My bird watching trips lasted for about a fortnight. By then I had realised that all the occupants of the caravans were male. I briefly contemplated having a Ponyboy but quickly dismissed the idea. I had an entire hard drive full of ponygirl material, and any ponyboys or mention of them was merely peripheral to my primary interest. It was a big disappointment but also a relief, no more tramping up and down that damn lane pretending to be interested in birds and dog walking.

The caravans were empty so far as I could see when I next drove that way, and it was approaching winter now, so I assumed that they would be empty till the spring. Maybe even a lot longer if the farmer had mended his ways.

I wasn't idle though, far from it. My fantasy had now become a semi-serious hobby. I had already acquired numerous items from various sources via the internet. It amused me whenever I received a parcel from the postal service or a delivery firm. Did they know they were delivering an item of bondage equipment or a nasty whip or crop, perhaps a piece of particular tack? No, of course, they didn't. It did, however, make me 'visitor conscious'. My old farm buildings were set back away from the road and with lightly wooded areas on both sides plus a couple of fields to the rear again surrounded by woods. Nevertheless, I decided as part of my plan I would cut out as many unnecessary visitors as I could. I thereby made arrangements for mail and parcels to be left at the village post office and for a fee, my non-postal deliveries.

Strange, but making such plans added immensely to my sexual stimulation even if it was all fantasy. They were all part of the Master Plan. Hell, I remember thinking to myself 'Masterplan', I wasn't exactly going to invade occupied Europe! Still, it was my plan, and even if it was just a harmless bit of imaginary fun, it had to be foolproof, at least in my mind. The one thing I 'd noted from my research was that spontaneity never worked. I intended that no book about me and my victim would ever appear on Amazon! That was in the highly unlikely event of my ever having one.

The kit arriving in my various parcels was not cheap. I did not want the bondage 'play set' stuff sold in sex shops, eBay, and popular online exotic lingerie sites. I wanted the real thing. Well made, heavy, durable, inescapable, and unfortunately always highly expensive. Luckily I could afford it. At some point, my little hobby must have crossed the line between fantasy and reality but the line was blurred, and I wasn't conscious of it. I could afford it. Maybe I'd advertise for a play partner one day?

I spent time (and more money) out in the old stable building. I had the roof checked and all the rotten timbers and broken or missing roof tiles replaced. That alone cost a small fortune. The same company put in a water supply for me along with a heater and a large stainless-steel sink. Another significant expense was the electrics. A complete rewire and then the addition of security lighting, a security system, and a surveillance system. I told that company I was going to start a small riding school and maybe take in a few liveries, so I wanted everything to be secure. A new door frame and heavy wooden door complete with security lock finished off the project. I told myself it all needed doing anyway, I used it as a garage and maybe I ought to treat my self to a more expensive sexier car.

I'd been so busy organising my stable and equipment as well as maintaining the daily internet browsing that I'd almost forgotten about the farm caravans. I had also been partly mulling over plans b, c and even d, as various ideas occurred to me. None of which, however, were all that practicable. I was less than five feet tall and certainly not built to overpower someone much bigger physically. Nor did I have access to the things people in stories always had. They always knew shadowy kidnappers or were shoving needles into people or putting cloths over their faces with chemicals that instantly knocked them out. Either that or they had access to electric stunning devices which were all illegal and unobtainable in the UK.

I was taking a shortcut heading for a dental appointment when I noticed there were lights on in the caravan windows as I drove past. They were still on when I returned, so I braked and drove quite slowly. To my delight, I saw two people exit one caravan and cross over to the largest of the three, and they were both women. How old or what they looked like I could not tell from a brief view of their backs, I just knew from their clothing and hair and movement that they were women. Anyway, if they were illegals and looking for work, they were much more likely to be young. I drove home trying to remember where I'd dumped the binoculars.

Next day I resumed my bird watching activities. Parking at the church was safe due to the ongoing national decline in church attendance. The local vicar now had responsibilities for five parishes and five churches, so I'd never yet seen him or anyone else there. There was a service but only about once a month other than Christmas and Easter.

I made three trips that week, slowly walking past the site twice on each outing. I timed it wrong on one occasion and saw no one. The other two outings proved more rewarding. There were at least three men in the large caravan, a couple with a small child in the middle one and I thought three maybe four women in the third and a couple of them seemed quite young looking. One, in particular, had caught my eye. She wore her blonde hair in a long single plait down her back. Tall, broad-shouldered, big build but not fat, athletic looking, not a runner, more of a thrower, javelin maybe rather than shot or discus. Just the right size and shape for a diminutive riders saddle pony!

Well, the right wild pony had been identified. Now how to cut it out from the herd, rope it and bring it home. There were more people resident in total than I had reckoned on. Were they related? Did they all know each other and would anyone who went missing be reported? Were they actually all illegals? Key questions but not ones I could easily obtain an answer too.

Well, there was one way to find out, and I was all equipped to carry out my plan. It was by no means the best plan in the world and would require a degree of luck, but if I could somehow trigger the initial part. If the cards fell my way, then I was confident I could achieve my goal. I drove home and spent twenty-four hours in a very thoughtful mood. Fantasy was one thing - but kidnapping, I mean kidnapping for real, not play acting was, well crazy to put it mildly.

I went to bed thinking of the Amazon presumably sound asleep in the caravan just a few miles away. My Amazon, my Beauty, my future ponygirl. I made my mind up and sometime in the early hours finally dropped off into a trouble-filled sleep whereby I seemed to be continually running down dark country lanes pursued by giant ponygirls dressed in police uniforms.

Nightmares aside my resolve remained unaltered, and I passed a slow day, nervously sipping numerous cups of coffee, forever glancing at the clock, and trying to maintain an aura of calm against my growing feelings of tense anticipation.

I returned after it became dark and then using an old second-hand cell phone plus a prepaid SIM card I called the farm. A woman answered so I asked if I could speak to a Mister Thomas Granger. There was a silence and a sound as though the phone had been put down carefully. I waited until a male voice said hello in a not very friendly tone.

"Hello, hello, is Mr Granger?" I asked in a badly accented voice.

"What do you want, who wants me?"

"Is Klara from Poland, you don't know me but I been working some nights down at Fox and Hounds in Little Topping, barmaid and washer of dishes".

"So what?" he snorted angrily.

"So what is Immigration people" I hissed. "They coming to see you maybe tonight."

There was a pause then, "Shit! How do you know that? Where are you? Why are you calling me?"

"I outside pub on cell phone. They all in pub eating bar meals, I serve, I hear talk. Two womens and three men. Big van and car outside. I hear they come to you, know about people there, I no like, I once big problem with immigration border peoples. They say Grange Farm on Church street, I look yellow pages so give warning try help peoples like me have no big problems. I go now bye bye".

I cut the call off. Five out of ten I thought to myself, gawd I probably sounded more like a Mrs Ravi at the post office than an East European!

I had parked off the road in the sparsely grassed and gravelled entrance to a field just around a corner from the site I was watching. I got out of my car and walked a little nearer taking good care to remain in the additional darkness provided by the gloom of the trees. I doubted if any traffic would be about, the road was hardly used during the day let alone later, and I could easily melt out of sight should I spot any approaching lights. I had no doubts now that at least some of the occupants across the road were illegal but would farmer Granger panic? Was he indeed as weak as a piece of wet loo paper and if so, would he take action tonight?

Just as I had suspected, it wasn't long before I saw lights and heard a vehicle on the other side of the rickety hedge row. Raised voices and shouts, angry voices, a child was screaming, there was the sound of a heavy smack, and then it yelled even louder now joined by a wailing woman and more voices raised in argument. Another voice bellowed "quiet, quiet the lot of you, do as I tell ya". The sounds subsided into a babble of muted protests. A series of bangs and slams followed as doors were opened and closed noisily. I approached closer to risk a peep.

A large four-wheel-drive vehicle was parked there. People were throwing things hastily into the open rear, bags, suitcases a child's buggy. A large man in shirt sleeves despite the cold was saying something to a small group of people, emphasising points by frequently smacking his clenched right fist against his open left palm. I heard snatches of conversation, "safe place, before they get here, bound to come soon, tomorrow first thing, can't risk it again, be better off there." The man had his wallet out now and was passing out notes. His voice trailed off as some agreement was reached. I held my breath, so far so good, now.....

The farmer slammed the rear tail cover of his vehicle shut or tried to. It wouldn't close so with a curse he lifted it again, reached inside and hauled out a medium sized soft bag. He slammed the tail shut and tossed the bag towards the group of watching people. The woman with the small child seized it.

"Get in, three and three," he gestured with a finger. The woman and child complete with bag scrambled into the passenger seat, the four men cramming themselves into the three rear ones. "It's working" I breathed to myself. Somehow I'd just known that bully could be panicked into action and that things would pan out just like this. How I knew, well don't ask. Call it feminine intuition if you want. I did know that there had only ever seemed to be one road vehicle on his farm and he was the only person I had ever seen driving it.

The farmer looked at his wristwatch, tapped it and said something to the four watching women. He touched his watch again as if emphasising a point then strode purposely to his vehicle, started it, and hastily drove off. I waited quietly, and moments later it emerged onto the road and turned away from where I lurked driving off quickly in the opposite direction.

I stayed still and silent in the dark. This was it; this was where I crossed my Rubicon or did I? Did I have the courage to carry on? I could go back to my car, drive home, go back to being little miss average and ordinary. I'd done nothing wrong, just made a prank phone call that's all. Back to my humdrum existence, back to the pink vibrator and internet fantasies. Back to being an honest woman, not a sadistic sick pervert!

The moment passed. Where was the fun in that? Just over that hedge was my 'Beauty', my very own wild ponygirl and all I had to do was go and fetch her. There might not, probably, indeed maybe certainly would never be a similar chance. I was ready; all was ready, my equipment was all to hand as was the moment. Heart pounding, I walked quickly back to my car.

I turned left after entering the farm gates. I knew the way from google maps; the dirt track was rougher than I'd allowed for but passable. Thank goodness there had been no heavy rain recently otherwise I might have had problems. Getting bogged down was not part of my planning nor had I prepared an adequate excuse should that happen. As I bounced and lurched toward the lighted caravans a sentence, I'd once read in a book came to mind. 'It was always the little things, the ones you never considered that went wrong'. There was truth in that.

I reached the firmer ground and performed a three-point turn. The four women came out of their van looking somewhat wary as they realised it was a stranger. I eyed them up quickly. My Beauty was there standing even taller than I had thought her, she towered over a smaller, younger-looking petite dark-haired girl who leaned into her as if seeking protection. The other two were not worthy of my interest. One was much older, middle-aged, lined face and very tired looking, shoulders drooping and unlikely to be very fit. Not very attractive and certain to sag somewhat in the haunches and udder departments. I wanted an animal that would be pleasing to the eye not a tired out old candidate for the knackers yard.

The other girl was, well quite fat, certainly not obese but had clearly patronised too many fast food outlets on a frequent basis. Nor was she very tall. At a pinch, rigorously exercised and slimmed down, maybe a second-rate cart puller only. Not very easy on the eye either. Plain, spotty, and decidedly dumpy. Not a keeper!

It ran through my mind even as I spoke that I was becoming an expert 'stock woman'. "Anyone speak English," I asked in a crisp voice.

My Beauty nodded. "Please, I do a little". Somehow I knew it would be her that answered, out of all of them I sensed that she was the most intelligent.

"Please what is..."

"No time" I barked. "Mr Granger sent me; I held up my cell phone. "Immigration people on their way, no time for talk. I need to take one to my house now....no; please don't argue. I will remove boxes and come back for one, two three". I pointed at them.

The boxes stacked in the rear seats of my little car were yet another facet of my careful planning. There was only room for one person in the vehicle, in the passenger seat and I had doctored that seat belt with a couple of DIY alterations.

"You", I pointed to Beauty, "get your bags and get in, quickly now".

The girl shook her head and pointed to the older woman. Oh god, I thought, don't tell me it's all about to go pear-shaped! Up to this point, I had felt confident and in charge of the situation. Doubts began to hit me, could I actually carry this off, how long had I got?

"No", I shouted genuinely angry and stamped my foot. "You, I want someone who can speak English first", I pointed at Beauty.

The girl shook her head again; she gestured with her right hand across her body at the smaller girl and at the same time put her left arm protectively around her and hugged her close to her.

"No, I only go with my girlfriend".

I stared hard for a second. No, yes, I was a woman, I sensed it. They were lesbians! When Beauty said girlfriend, she meant it and not in a 'bestie' type way. My mind raced, how to handle this, could I handle the situation. I reacted virtually without thinking.

"Alright, get in" I gestured to my small car, and added, "wait, go get your bags. Bags ", I repeated and mimed picking up a suitcase in each hand.

As they disappeared, I opened a rear door, pushed, and pummeled at the assorted cardboard boxes stacked there and cleared the seat behind the passenger one. They were all empty, so it wasn't difficult. I left the door open and opened the boot just as the two girls came up. They had one sizeable soft holdall each of them grasping a handle while clutching another smaller bag and shoulder bag each. I grabbed the big holdall and crammed it into my small boot space. There was another bag in there with a drawstring closure which I moved out of the way I wanted that one on top, and I definitely did not want anyone looking inside. I grabbed one of the smaller bags from the petite dark-haired girl, stuffed that in one side and added my bag to the other before slamming the boot closed.

"Inside quick" I panted "no you bigger in front, keep the bag on lap" I gestured to my midriff as Beauty made to open the passenger door for her friend. "You there" I gestured and waited till the smaller girl squeezed herself into the space that I had cleared before slamming the door.

Beauty was in her seat with the door closed as I got into the driver's seat.

"You wait, ten minutes" I called to the other two women, tapping my wristwatch and holding up my fingers and thumbs. "Seatbelt please" I gestured to Beauty.

"Is stuck".

She had been vainly pulling at it and continued to tug at the unyielding webbing. I reached over, grabbed the metal fastening, pushed the bag on her lap forwards with my elbow and pulled hard. She yelled a little as the tight strap forced her backwards hard up against the seat back, belt taunt across her waist. I thought for a moment I had got my measurements wrong. It was tight, tighter than I had allowed for but with another firm tug, a wince from her, the fitting slid into the locking slot with a satisfying click. I reached beneath it and pushed home the locking pin that I had fitted. No way the metal tongue was going to come out of the slot without first removing that concealed pin, and that was not going to shift. I knew I'd tried; it had taken me over half an hour to get the damn thing back out from its awkward place. The spring-loaded ball bearings at the end held it very firmly.

"To tight, too tight", she moaned fingers scrabbling first at the strap across her chest and then at the locking fitting by her hip. I had started the engine and was moving off. "Leave it" I snapped, lifting my hand from the gear lever, and slapping down lightly on hers. "Only a few minutes" I added feeling exultant and yet?

It really was only a few minutes to my place, and that posed a problem. My DIY alteration to the seat belt would hopefully hold Beauty captive until more secure arrangements could be applied. However, what to do about her friend in the back? My plans had not allowed for that, and I needed to come up with something fast. She might be a lot smaller than Beauty, but she still topped me by a good couple of inches and having been engaged in physical farm work was going to be both fitter and stronger. Plus, if the pair were lesbians, she'd no doubt fight like a tiger at the first hint of danger to her lover.

I could have driven around aimlessly for a while to give me time to think but options around the area were limited, and there was no way I wanted anyone on the busier roads to see my passengers and me. Besides, I had said only a few minutes, I didn't want them getting alarmed plus my alterations to the seatbelt were a cause for concern as they had been a bit rough and ready. In theory, the release mechanism that fed more of the belt was jammed, and my locking pin held the other end fast...but for how long against a determined struggling person, one who was bigger than I had allowed for?

I glanced sideways as my mind raced. Beauty continued to struggle with the tight seat belt strap. I stole several glances, and the image was delightful, the diagonal strap was stretched taut against her chest She was wearing a tight, ribbed fawn sweater, one of those very clingy ones that conceal but also reveal exciting contours and I found those large shapely mounds that jiggled as she wriggled very interesting. Not just interesting but highly arousing. I began to feel more than a little damp.

A part of my mind had been telling me not to be so bloody stupid, drive to the railway station in the next village, dump them both in the car park and get the hell out of it. However, the more I caught glimpses of those tantalising mounds quivering under that figure-hugging sweater, the faster that thought headed in the direction of my brains equivalent of the emergency exit!

I hit one of the numerous potholes in the poorly maintained road, the car bumped, we all bounced briefly in our seats, but Beauty also squealed and gave an extra-large jiggle. I just happened to be sneaking another quick look and never noticed the 'emergency exit door' opening and shutting as rationality finally fled.

She was no longer strapped beside me in the passenger seat but chained naked other than the gleaming black harness I had bound her in, to a post in my stable, squealing in pain, rage, fear, and humiliation as I reached out to fondle and squeeze one of her large udders. No, correction, my udder, they belonged to me now! I mentally salivated at the vision.

I drove straight to my farm. An idea was forming in my mind plus I knew that the tools I would need were readily to hand. "Nearly there". I told them as I slowed, flicked on an indicator, and swung through the open gate into my drive the headlamps illuminating the twists, turns and the trees lining the narrow passageway. I drove straight through the open door of the stable and applied the handbrake. Beauty was still banging away at the seatbelt release. I killed the engine and tried to help her.

"Sorry, looks like it's jammed solid. Wait I will get something to help". I turned to look at the girl in the back. She was a pretty little thing, short bobbed hair curling inwards, big green eyes and cute full bow lips. She resembled a shorter, dark-haired Taylor Swift a little. Something stirred within me. Something unexpected. Maybe this was a bonus situation in a big way. "See if you can help her", I said forgetting that she might not understand me, but I did wave my hand towards her girlfriend.

I got out, retrieved my drawstring bag from the boot, rummaged around on my tool bench then collected a couple more items from a drawer containing some of my more specialised equipment. When I returned to the car young cutie lips was out of the vehicle pulling at the top of the passenger seat belt. I hoped it would hold. It did for she gave that up, leaned into the car across Beauty and also started to struggle with the release mechanism. That's what I had anticipated and was ready for. It was far too easy this 'capture' business. Who needed stun guns, needles and chloroform anyway.

I pulled a pair of leg irons from my bag, bent down and quickly locked each one around her ankles just above her trainers. They had a simple ratchet fastening mechanism. Click, push to the required tightness and then they could only be loosened and released with a special key. A length of chain ran between them allowing a limited amount of movement. It only took a moment. Beauty had not even seen me doing it, but cutie lips had felt it. She suddenly squealed and made to back out.

I reached down grabbed the chain between her ankles and yanked hard backwards and upwards. There was another squeal, two squeals in fact as Beauty saw but probably didn't realise what I was doing. Cutie lips had slipped two-thirds of the way out of the car just her chest and head on Beauties lap. I yanked hard again and let go as she thumped heavily face down on to the ground. In another quick motion, I slipped a handcuff bracelet around her right wrist as she sought to push herself up. It was then easy-peasy to half kneel on her back drag her right wrist across to the centre of her back where her left hand was helpfully groping blindly. Click, and she was secure.

Secure, never again to enjoy the sort of freedom of her old life. Mine for now and forever even if she was being very noisy about it. Screaming and shouting in some unintelligible language, although I did understand the odd English swear word. I might have to wash the little bitches mouth out if she talked like that! Amazing how foreigners always seemed to pick up the very worst elements of our vocabulary before anything else?

Beauty was also shouting at me. She too had lapsed into her native language, and this was no time to relax. She was thrashing around frantically, and I could see that it wouldn't be long before something gave. The job was only half done, less than half done because if she got loose being so much bigger and stronger, then I really would be in trouble. Suppose that happened and I was the one lying helpless on the dirt floor, and they rummaged around and discovered all my other 'toys'!

I pulled a craft knife out of my pocket, one of those with portioned sliding blades that you can break pieces off to keep the end sharp. I slid the blade out with my thumb and held it in front of her eyes. "Shut up" I shouted. "Shut up and stay still".

She froze, eyes fearfully fixed on the sharp blade only a few inches away. A sort of whimper escaped her. I was exultant; I sensed the fight had gone out of her for the moment. It would return, I'd be very disappointed if it didn't, anyway I was sure the plans I had in store for her would soon rekindle that fighting spirit. What human being wants to be turned into an animal at the end of a whip?

I waggled the knife. "Do as I say, and you won't get hurt?" I told her. Well, not just yet I told myself. "Hold your hands out in front". I thought for a moment she was going to resist. She half shook her head then still looking with frightened eyes at me and back to the knife did as I ordered. Using one hand, knife now held against her throat I snapped another pair of cuffs on her then crouched down and a pair of leg irons soon decorated her ankles as well. Good job I had invested plenty of money and not been miserly with the number of my purchases.

I stepped back with a massive sigh of relief. I was shaking, really shaking. I felt faint, weak and light headed. I'd done it. Really done it. Actually, really gone and damn well done it and not just with one, I'd got two of the bitches!

As I calmed down a little, I became conscious of a couple of things. One, that familiar sensation between my legs. I was suddenly aware that I was aroused, really aroused, hot and wet and it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge. The urge to plunge my fingers into my pants was almost irresistible. I did resist it though. The other thing I now realised was that cutie lips was still screaming her damn head off! She must have been doing it all the while, but I'd been too engrossed to notice. I did now though. Her voice was cracking; she must have nearly screamed herself hoarse. Good job I had no neighbours. I lashed out with a foot. "Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch". I kicked her twice more. "Quiet".

She got the message and subsided into a spate of gasping whimpers. I went back to one of my equipment draws and found what I wanted. A pair of bright red ball gags, one still sealed in its crinkly plastic packaging. Unique, expensive ball gags that would allow various attachments to be fastened or inserted. They would shut the bitches up, and they might as well get used to them. They'd be spending a lot of time wearing them or something similar for me.

Cutie lips wasn't too cooperative, but you eventually have to open your mouth if someone is pinching your nostrils closed. In it popped with a bit of forcing and the strap quickly fastened. She had beautiful even white teeth, small and dainty looking and healthy pink gums; I ran my finger around them purely to enjoy the sheer delight in touching my new possession. Oh, what fun we were going to have. Well, I was.

Beauty wanted to talk or rather argue and threaten. I listened to the tirade in broken English for all of fifteen seconds or so and then got bored of it. Nothing had registered anyway; I was too wound up and tense to pay any attention to that babble. I just grabbed her by the back of the neck offered the gag up to her mouth and pushed it home. I must have caught her lip as she was bleeding very slightly from the corner of her mouth after I'd finished securing the strap. I noticed that she didn't have gleaming white teeth, hers were larger, more yellow, and stank of tobacco. Well, that's something she's just given up, period!

I was exhausted, utterly exhausted. I felt weak at the knees. I needed to go and sit down for a minute or two, maybe even get a coffee. I looked at my captives. Neither was going anywhere but just to be on the safe side, I dragged out a length of heavy chain. I ran it around a stout post, secured it with a large padlock and the used two more locks to fasten the two ends, one to each chain on the leg irons.

Two wild fillies hunted, roped, captured, and delivered. I went for my coffee not forgetting to close the stable door and set the security alarm. Might as well get used to it. I headed for the kitchen thoughtfully. Did I really need two ponies? Cutie lips certainly wasn't big enough to ride, and I didn't have a cart to harness her too nor did I have anywhere to run her if I had one. What about a show pony? Trouble was I would never have access to any venue to display her and once trained maybe I might get bored. Perhaps then something else? Well, I had plenty of time now to think about it, and it was an interesting problem to have. She was rather cute. I put my knife down on the countertop. Probably going to need it shortly to slash the passenger seat belt webbing to release Beauty. Wonder how I will explain that to the garage I mused humming happily to myself as I reached for the electric kettle.


Chapter 4 - Contemplation on an idea

I sipped my coffee and nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie. It was probably going to be a long evening. I needed to get Beauty out of the car and secured in her stall. Maybe? No need to do anything else. I wanted to be fresh and to have plenty of time to enjoy grooming and dressing her in harness for the first time. That could wait till tomorrow when I had the leisure to take my time fully savouring the restrictions I would bind her in. No doubt some of my more corporal toys would also get their first chance to play. I shivered in delightful anticipation. Oh, how she was going to squeal and dance for me.

But what about the addition? Little miss cutie pie the clit licker. I bet she was the fem in that little setup. I think I already knew in part the answer to that question. I was even a little shocked at myself, but she was adorable and such beautiful white teeth and pink gums and almost certainly a nice pink tongue. I could not spend all my time in the stable so wouldn't it also be nice to be able to play indoors as well?

Suddenly my life was going to get very interesting and very entertaining. All my Christmas's coming at once and with a completely unexpected bonus present. My fingers were reaching between my legs even as I mused. I bet little miss cutie has a nice pert white little bum. Beauty gets the stable cane, and her face in a bucket of mush and little miss cutie receives the paddle on her bum and her head between my legs, and I'll bet she even knows what to do. Well if not she'll soon learn and so will I!

I resisted the delicious urge to probe further with my fingers. Those days might well be over now I had a possible alternative available, and my little pink vibrators might still get a bit of use but rarely on me and to tease rather than satisfy. Anyway, I still had work to do and a decision to make. I already knew what was intended for Beauty and there would be no deviations. No change of plan and above all no mercy shown. Her fate was already sealed, I had wanted a pony, and that's what she would be by tomorrow evening and would remain so for as far into the future as I could imagine.

Little cutie, well a sort of idea was beginning to form. I needed to think upon it a bit, well for perhaps more than a bit and I needed to see a whole lot more of her than I had so far. I also wanted to have a look through the bags they'd brought with them. I might need to do a bit more research via the internet as well, but I was an expert now at that.

I sipped more of my coffee and then as Raven was frisking around being more than a little demanding and tiresome I fed him with double rations to keep him happy. I was too tired to take him out for our customary evening walk down the lane, so he could have a run around the grounds instead in a minute.

It was, how to explain it? Well, sort of strange. I sat there quietly in comfort with my mug of cheap instant coffee calmly surveying my living room with all its usual accumulated clutter. Discarded clothes that should have been placed in the laundry bin, books big and small, assorted scattered shoes and boots in singles and pairs, abandoned dog toys, various household bills and other pieces of paper haphazardly arranged on my computer desk. Raven, appetite now partially sated was noisily shoving his heavy feeding bowl around the floor with his nose trying to see if there was anything edible underneath, his tail wagging back and forth frantically as usual. It was normal all so very normal and yet, my thought drifted out to the stable...surreal!

A peculiar sense of calm came over me as I tried to analyse just how I felt. Did I feel anything? Did I feel any different at all? Was I fearful or anxious in any way? Did I feel a sense of guilt at what I had just done and what I would soon be doing? The answer to each question quite honestly was no. No, I did not feel anything other than a growing sense of anticipation and excitement.

Did that make me a monster I wondered as I slowly drank my coffee? I hadn't suddenly grown two heads or sharp fangs, I was still me, or was I? I clicked my tongue and held my hand out as Raven bounded hopefully over to lick my fingers. "Good doggie." I patted him on the head, "Good boy". Well, at least I had one friend who thought I was just the same.

Surreal was the word that constantly drifted in and out of my thoughts as I sat there. I was sitting here comfortably almost but not quite like any other evening, but out there, in the stable? I had just kidnapped two young women, two human beings who up till a half hour or so ago had been entirely free individuals. They had family, friends, hopes, and dreams, ambitions and much much more and now...now I had them tied up and helpless in my old stable fearfully awaiting my return with no idea of what was in store for them. Were they terrified, almost certainly, I knew I would have been if the tables were turned?

My coffee was almost finished. Well, the tables were not going to turn, ever. That was one realisation that was dawning on me. I suppose it was one aspect I had not wholly thought though caught up as I was in all my erotic internet images and stories. I now had two unwilling 'guests', no prisoners and they were both lifers. I had kidnapped them, really kidnapped them! I could go out there and let them go, somehow apologise, try and pass everything off as a silly joke gone wrong, laugh, say sorry big mistake, and walk away from it somehow.

No, I told myself I would not do that. The three of us would soon be bound together for the rest of our lives. Literally bound in their case. There would be no turning back once I started, couldn't be. I was about to become a ruthless, sadistic pervert of the worst kind. I was going to do things to those poor girls that any normal sane person would find utterly repugnant.

I drained the final drops of coffee. Was I really that sick? Did I feel that sick? Did I feel my sanity slowly slipping away? No, I didn't. I was still me I had not changed. I could imagine how the media would portray me if I were ever caught, how people would view me and feel about me, but did I care? No. In a short while, tomorrow perhaps, I was going to start torturing those girls, I was going to bind them tightly, whip them, force objects into them to violate their most private parts and all the while listening to them screaming for my pleasure.

I rose from my chair and went to the kitchen pausing to place my empty mug in the plastic washing up bowl. Time to start playing with my animals. I was human they were not and that in my mind was now the difference. I didn't expect the judge or jury to understand that, but I did, and that was all that mattered.


Chapter 5 - Safe and secure (added: 2018/11/10)

It was growing late and decidedly chilly when I returned to the stables. I switched the electric heating on, it would be expensive, but worth it, I didn't want the occupants going down with flu or something similar. Illness was a bridge we'd have to cross if or when it cropped up.

Cutie was covered in dust as though she had been rolling around on the dirt floor trying to free herself. She hadn't of course, and all she'd achieved was to get herself rather filthy. She glared at me angrily through moist, hate-filled eyes. She truly was cute, more so with that dirt-streaked face. My fingers positively ached to open that little package and see what I now owned. Owned what a delightful feeling.

Business before pleasure though as they say and first things first. I removed the craft knife from my pocket and went over to my car. "Oh, stop that" I snapped as Beauty flinched away or at least tried to. I extended the blade an inch or so and began to saw through the seat belt webbing. It proved an easier task than I had anticipated and soon parted allowing Beauty to fall forwards in the seat. I thumbed the blade back into the handle and replaced the knife in my pocket making a mental note to myself, never leave things like that loosely laying around. No point in spending a fortune on security if you then got careless with a cheap throwaway knife! I picked up the half-empty holdall she's carried from around her feet and casually tossed it over against one of the vacant stalls.

I unlocked the padlock that secured the long chain to the shorter one and grabbed her ankle chain pulling her legs towards the car door. Beauty was shaking her head from side to side quite violently and twisting her upper body around as if that would somehow help her.

I sighed. I didn't have time for this, I wanted her out of the car and quickly with minimum fuss. I did not want a fight. I was tired, weary and not in the mood. Any humanity that remained within me about this situation was fast ebbing away and unlikely ever to return. I had wanted to savour the moment when I punished her for the first time. That sorta went out of the window.

I grabbed her firmly by that thick long blonde mane, yanked her head around and then delivered a stinging slap to her left cheek. Well, it stung me, so I guess it must have been far worse for her. "Out", I roared, striking her again and then bracing myself, heaved her bodily out of the seat and let her drop to the ground.

"Still", I barked as she made to roll around and emphasised my command with the toe end of my booted foot in her ribs hard enough to draw forth another muffled squeal of pain, protest and probably rage.

I was exceedingly tired; maybe it was the adrenaline rush fading away now I was on the home straight. I must have been way more hyped up than I had realised. I felt bone-weary also a little dizzy and light-headed, even a touch nauseous. Not ill but just in desperate need of my bed. I also recognised the unwelcome signs of a migraine attack hovering on the horizon. A glass of milk, a couple of aspirin and a few hours' sleep in a dark room and I would be GTG as my online guild mates might say!

First things first though. I needed to sleep with a clear conscience. 'Whoops', the wrong word probably never will have a clear conscience again I mused as I looked down at my two helpless captives. Not secure enough though for my peace of mind, especially Beauty whose hand remained cuffed in front of her.

I went over to Cutie Lips, rolled her half over so I could check her cuffs, they were okay, but there was enough play in them to click up another notch without damaging her. Her leg irons also went up another notch and the chain securing her to the post was secure. I still wasn't going to take any chances, not on the first night, belt and braces time.

A few minutes later I had added a couple of heavy-duty two-inch-wide leather harness straps. One just above the knees and pulled tight, the second longer one wrapped around the upper torso just below the bust line to keep both arms tight up against her back. Not exactly a proper 'reverse prayer' but still not very comfortable but it wouldn't restrict her circulation. I ignored the sounds emerging from behind her gag as I tugged the straps tight with the aid of the roller buckles.

As a final consideration I pulled a couple of decomposing foam mattresses out from a corner of the stable, they smelt quite vile and what remained of their original coverings was obscured by an unpleasant combination of stains and dank mould. They had been an afterthought to my stable and equipment preparations. I'd taken my final load of junk down to the skips at the local recycling depot and spotted them. A couple of pounds had changed hands with a bald old man in a yellow safety jacket, not sure that he believed my improbable story as to why I wanted them for my dogs, but I had half envisaged the possibility of the present situation. I'd only wanted one at the time, but he bargained better than me!

I almost giggled to myself as I heaved Cutie onto her 'deluxe' berth for the night. Technically I suppose I wasn't all that kind and considerate considering the sort of future activities I had planned. 'Comfort' was not going to be a regular feature of these animal lives. I didn't want them doing any lasting damage to themselves, not on the first night, not till I got them secure properly. The 'damage' would commence on the morrow, and I would be the one to instigate it.

Beauty received similar treatment, but I took the additional precaution of using my knife again once I'd got her face down on the filthy rank smelling mattress. I half knelt on her back and pulled her head back, the flat blade of the knife at her throat. I told her that I was going to free one of her hands and she had better put it behind her back if she wanted to keep breathing.

"I only need one of you", I hissed in her ear "So if I get any trouble I might get rid of the spare". I grabbed a handful of blonde mane and gave it a savage twist. "Comprehend?". Maybe the wrong word to use given English wasn't her primary language, but I think she had already gotten the point.

I felt her throat move under the flat of the knife blade as she gave a great gulp and tried to nod while muffled whimpering sounds came from behind the gag. As soon as one hand was free, she obeyed and obediently held them behind her back. Silly bitch. I shuffled backwards slightly, perched astride her big bum, grabbed the uncuffed wrist and secured it to the cuffed one. Last chance gone I thought to myself. I squeezed the warm body with my knees, nice, can't wait till I do this when she's up on her hoofs and I am on her back.

I repeated the same routine with the straps and checked her chain. It needed shortening a little; I did not want them able to get too close in the night either to try and help each other or for mutual comfort. I was unquestionably ready to call it a day, but there was one last thing to do.

Back to one of my 'toy' drawers and ripped open another cellophane wrapped rectangular box. I suppose for hygiene reasons I ought to have thoroughly washed the enclosed plastic water bottle out before using it. I couldn't be bothered. I gave it a quick rinse under the cold tap then filled it two thirds full and screwed on the cap with a curved narrow metal drinking tube.

My first attempt at force feeding or in this case forced drinking didn't go at all well. I hooked a fingernail in the notch at the front of the ball gags, flipped up the small round cover and forced the tube through and into Cuties mouth. Didn't want the animals dying of dehydration on the first night! There was an awful lot of choking, spluttering and so forth. I wasn't at all versed in this nor were they. I got wet, and so did they. I ended up taking the simple route by briefly loosening the gag straps, pinching nostrils, and tipping water down their throats so that they had to swallow.

I also found their attempts to talk highly annoying. Well, that was one irritation I would start correcting on the morrow. Once I was satisfied that both my animals had been sufficiently watered, I popped the red ball gags back in. No doubt most of the liquid would come out overnight, in fact, my nose told me that Cutie had already loosed an embarrassing dribble and maybe something else. Embarrassment was something to which she and her friend would become accustomed. I had not gone to the additional expense of adding a lavatory to my stable so like any other barn animal they would learn to go in the dirt!

I looked down at my two 'wrapped' packages. They both glared back at me through frightened yet angry moist eyes as tears left wet streaks down the sides of their faces. They wriggled slightly attempting to find a comfortable position, and I thought I could heap whimpers escaping from behind the bright red balls stretching their mouths. I wondered for a moment, did they have any idea about what was going to happen to them?

Rape that was probably the worst they could envisage. By me? Hell, they might even enjoy that. Yes, I would rape them with my toys but worse I would violate not only their bodies but more importantly their minds as well. They had no idea!

I had a last check of all the restraints, probably overkill I thought. A last look round. Lights on or off I mused for a second. Off, I flicked the switch. Two sets of frightened but very distinct muffled squeals sounded in the darkness. I smiled, exited the building and set the alarm. Mission Impossible accomplished.


Chapter 6 - A second idea (added: 2018/11/10)

I slept extremely well. I'd given poor Raven a quick run around the stable yard, a very quick run much to his displeasure then headed straight for my bed and slept like the proverbial log. Usually, I am a relatively light sleeper, but on this occasion, I had 'zonked' and built up a huge stack of Z's.

Usually, I don't bother to set my alarm clock; my body clock is good enough to wake me most days and anyway the wretched thing is far too loud and persistent. Cheap oriental technology at its fiendish worst! I awoke in an instant the moment it went off to jarringly interrupt my ever so beautiful slumber. I yawned, reached over to try and hit the snooze button and was about to roll over, then froze. Shit! I sat bolt upright as just for one second, I panicked. A moment of complete stomach-churning panic. In an instant, everything that had happened the previous evening flashed across my mind. The girls, the stable, kidnap......the authorities, police, arrest....... what?

I banged my hand down on the device silencing its clamour and took a deep breath. No, there was no siren blaring, no thundering knocks upon my front door, no jarring crash as booted feet kicked it open, no blue uniformed intruders pounding up the staircase. Nothing but the sound of my heavy breathing and from downstairs, Raven scratching urgently at the kitchen door wanting either his breakfast or to go out, probably both.

I leapt out of bed and crossed to a monitor cum tv on my bedroom wall. A steady green light told me that nobody had tried to open the stable door since I had set the alarm. The main image showed an infrared picture of two human forms still stretched out on the floor, both obviously still alive although of course there was no reason why they shouldn't be. I should have added a few more refinements I thought, the ability to remotely control the lights and then I could switch to visual mode. Oh well, maybe a future improvement.

It was still early and dark outside, but I was fully awake now and eager for the fun to begin. My fun anyway. I didn't intend to rush it though. This first day would be unique, after that it would become more routine. Perhaps routine was not quite what I meant but the days would become somewhat similar and monotonous for those two animals waiting out there, and that first element of terrified surprise would have gone as the long-term realisation of their terrible predicament slowly dawned upon them.

How many times had I fantasised about this, read so many wicked non-consensual stories, viewed the many internet kinky internet images and soon I would be doing the very same things I'd dreamed of doing to my own helpless and utterly non-consenting victim or victims I quickly reminded myself. Victims! I hugged myself, two of the little dears, well one little and one not so little.

I composed myself. I was hot again, very hot but now was not the time. I was going to have one humongous orgasm later in the day followed by a whole series more almost as big but that was for later. I needed to prepare myself. First impressions are important, and mine would last for the rest of their miserable lives.

That was a long time I reflected. It was a sobering thought then I suddenly giggled. 'Well, have to live with it now, can't exactly sell em both on eBay in six months' time can I'?

They say familiarity breeds contempt, and that is true. Just a few hours ago I had done something evil, totally mindbogglingly terrible and unforgivable but already it almost felt quite normal. Weird! I felt no regrets, no qualms, no misgivings whatsoever. Those two creatures in the stable belonged to me and me alone. They were as much mine as was my dog the only difference being I was likely to be a whole lot kinder to him.

I stripped off my warm, comfortable jimjams and went for a hot shower. I couldn't help contrasting my situation with theirs. Here I was all warm and cosy and of course completely free, enjoying a gentle spray of hot water. I would emerge clean and fresh while they lay terrified in their own stinking animal odours. God, I was enjoying this, I really must be a vile sadist! Did I care? No, I didn't. Not one jot.

I was never one for makeup other than the basics when needed. I didn't regularly put on an 'Instagram' selfie face. However, I wanted to look my best. There would be plenty of times when they would see me in the raw, in more way than one but today was special. I wasn't going to go over the top though. Foundation, a smattering of mascara, eyebrow pencil, lined pink lips, etc. I looked good I thought perusing my reflection a little while later in the vanity table mirror. Maybe they'll even take a fancy to me, but not for long I suspect, not once the cane begins to bite and they begin to howl!

A shiver ran through me. Oh god, I could hardly wait. Oh, how I wanted to hear screams and pleas for mercy, how I wanted to see my helpless victim singing and dancing to my tune, to see those cruel raised red stripes on lily-white flesh. Hmm, well they had both looked a bit sun-browned! Oh well, maybe the main target areas would be lily white, anyway who cared, tanned or white, the effect of the stripe would still be the same and just as pleasing to my eyes.

I chose my outfit with equal care. A dash of scent here and there and then I dressed. Tight fitting beige riding breeches, pristine white sleeveless blouse complimented by a narrow black bandana around my neck. A glossy two-inch wide black leather belt and a pair of expensive knee-high kitten heeled tan leather boots. I also tucked a pair of thin black leather gloves into my belt. Sexy yet sadistic was the image I was aiming for and looking in my full-length mirror I was almost satisfied.

I went back and used the perfume spray a bit more extravagantly. Poo! A whole lot too much but never mind. I wasn't about to attend a mother's union meeting at the church hall. I was going to lord it over the two filthy, smelly animals in the stable, my animals and this was but another string to my bow as they started to learn their place in the new pecking order.

I made an instant coffee, fed Raven who promptly gulped his food down at his usual ferocious speed and when no more was forthcoming, resumed one of his favourite activities, humping the rectangular leather pouffe in my lounge cum utility room. I gave him the usual casual soft kick. "Off" I shouted. He was young and active, and I had not had him seen to yet, he did tend to make a somewhat sticky and unpleasant mess sometimes on one end of it if left unchecked. He was big and strong and still growing. Too big really for little me to handle and the vet had said he would get worse and harder to control if he didn't get neutered soon. He needed the opp to calm him down unless of course, I found a bitch for him!

I froze. Another idea had struck me. No, no I couldn't. That really would be too cruel, too horrible, but then again why not. I'd gone to bed with a tentative idea forming about little miss cutie the previous night. Could she become a sort of 'human lap dog' following me around leashed and made to crawl to heel on all fours? I'd got my pony so why not add a sweet little poodle like bitch to the collection for my entertainment and amusement? She could even sleep in a basket in my bedroom! I took a sip of coffee and eyed the leather pouffe speculatively. I was only kinda contemplating using one end of her for personal use, the other apart from receiving the paddle, cane and dildo would be sort of spare wouldn't it?

I crossed over to my PC and booted it up while reflectively sipping my coffee. A few clicks of the mouse and my 'pet girl' folder opened followed by my puppy folder. I browsed through various images that had always excited me. Next to ponygirls, puppy girls had been my next best favourite. I was never terribly attracted to the big udder hucow type pictures and stories or any other types of animals. As always, I soon became hot and wet and once again had to resist scrabbling at my panties. Plenty of time for that later when it was time to play for real.

I was amazed at how calm I was considering what awaited me in the stable building. Why was I not rushing over there to 'play' with my new toys? Well, I was not in a hurry, there was plenty of time, they weren't going, anywhere were they?

There it was. 'Penny the puppy girl series. The little bitch on a leash being taken for a walk by her mistress, part naked, waddling along on knee and elbow paws with her legs and arms doubled up and helpless. She was cute with her short hair tied in two bunches with pink ribbons high on her head, so they flopped down either side almost like droopy dog ears. I had a good collection of 'Penny' art.

Poor Penny was always pictured trapped near naked or inside her doggie costume, an intricate figure-hugging furry suit that covered her from head to foot leaving only her face, breasts, cunt and buttocks exposed. A cute stubby little puppy tail emerged from her anus which she was forced to wag from time to time indicated by clever little lines on the artwork as she wiggled her bottom.

I clicked through them. Penny is squatting to relieve herself. Penny with a well-reddened backside. Penny is fetching the ball or the stick. Penny getting the cane across her rump from the Mistress's young daughter. Penny head down in her pink bowl with the big P on it gobbling up her doggie food. Penny looking mournful chained outside for the night in her pink kennel. Penny with tongue lolling out about to get busy in the bushy mound between her Mistress's spread legs.

Then I found the images I was seeking. The Penny and Butch pictures. Penny, the puppy girl, lived in her kennel outside. Butch, the great big real dog, had a comfy basket by the fire inside. Penny lived on canned dog food and biscuits. Butch lived on steak, chicken and other tasty treats. Penny frequently got whipped and beaten. Butch got cuddled and cossetted. Penny was always on a leash or restrained in some fashion. Butch was free to roam and come and go as he pleased.

I'd never been too keen on the Penny and Butch ones being more interested in Penny and her female owners, but I now looked at them anew. Butch was often vigorously humping poor Penny. Well, certainly being more than humped judging by the artistic movement lines she was being well and truly deep fucked! Penny was being bound across a low padded bench by her Mistress. Butch was sniffing at her rear his tails wagging in excitement. The young daughter stood nearby, cane in hand, a delighted, yet malicious look on her face as she gleeful waited to see Penny serviced by her canine lover.

My fingers crept downwards again as I looked at the expression of horror drawn so cleverly on Penny the Puppy dogs face. Gosh, this was vile, cruel and degrading but oh so sexy in a hideously fascinating way if you weren't Penny of course.

I turned and looked first at my leather pouffe and then eyed the hovering Raven speculatively. He was already a big, heavy dog and still growing. Young and vigorous. I wondered how big he was down there and was it even practical to make him do that or would he merely do it off his own back if suitably aroused?

I'd read stories, but they invariably had sprays and scents of bitch dogs in heat to excite the males. Did such things exist? How did dog breeders go about it? I foresaw a whole new line of internet research beckoning for me and could you get a high-quality puppy suit like that anywhere?

I clicked through the folder until I found another image, a one-off black and white drawing. It depicted a grossly fat wrinkled old woman in a transparent nightgown with the hem pulled up to her waist. She lay back relaxing at her ease on a long divan, legs apart, a long slender rod gripped in one hand the other holding a leash linked to the neck of the young blonde face down between her widespread plump thighs. The slaves back looked well marked from the rod, but that was least of her problems. Just as she serviced her mistress, a colossal drooling mastiff was behind and gripping her tightly with its front paws as it serviced her. The drawing was titled 'flogged and knotted'.

As I looked at the monitor, a delicious spasm shook me. Oh my god, to have the power to do that to another woman. How humiliating, how sickening, how absolutely gross, both ends at once, what she must think and feel? I shuddered even at the thought of it. Yet, how thrilling, how divine to have that sort of power over the cute little bitch. Just one simple click of my fingers and she would be there ready to satisfy me and to service her canine master, after a modicum of training of course!

I'd made my decision. Beauties fate had been decided a long time ago by that first ponygirl piece of artwork. Another might have just determined that of the spare. I was judge, jury and executioner and felt no guilt or conscience. Just like the young girl in the Penny drawing, I would watch with gleeful delight, and maybe Raven would calm down a bit more if he could shoot his seed into the little bitch on a regular basis? That'll make her squeal I bet. Well, she might even get to like it? At least she might have a chance to enjoy the odd orgasm, whereas poor Beauty is going to remain one hundred per cent celibate!

I swallowed the last of my now somewhat tepid coffee, stood up and slid my craft knife into a hip pocket. It was time to switch off the pc and go and play for real.


Chapter 7 - Unwrapping the first package (added: 2018/11/26)

I unlocked the back door to let the impatient Raven out into the muddy yard for a runaround, he never wandered very much, and the road was both quiet and far enough away to be of no concern. It was one of those fine, slightly blustery days with weak but bright sunlight giving everything a golden morning glow.

A few clicks to deactivate the alarm and I opened the door. I made a mental note to try and open it without deactivating it sometime soon. I had not tested it since the initial hand over demonstration with the guys who'd fitted it. Even then I hadn't paid too much attention, one of them was super hunky, and I'd spent two days thinking of a way to broaden our conversations beyond 'how many sugars or would you like a biscuit?". Last chance and I'd chickened out. Hadn't even changed the original entry code so that was something I needed to attend to if I could find the damn manual. 1234 was probably a touch weak!

Daylight flooded in as I pulled the door open and again, I immediately heard those muffled noises as the two bound forms wriggled and jerked in the dirt. I was also conscious of the smell, unmistakeable, the usual musty smells of the old rarely used building with which I was familiar but now over-ridden by a discernible odour of shit and piss! Not overly strong but certainly noticeable. I immediately got horny again. This was for real.

I must have read at least a dozen books and stories that mentioned the barn or stable odour emanating from helpless human livestock. It had always turned me on, given me a certain cruel thrill; it summed things up. Helpless human animals denied even the privacy and essentials to execute one of humanity's most basic needs comfortably. The poorest most isolated people in Africa and elsewhere no matter how rudimentary their facilities could perform ablutions with far more dignity than the captive beasts in the stories were allowed. I suppose most people would have recoiled but not me. I was no longer in the 'most people' category, and I delighted in the first heady waft of that foul odour.

They were both a mess lying there in their wet stink like a couple of babies helplessly waiting for mummy to come and change them. I noticed that the angry expression in their eyes from the night before had gone, replaced now by a desperate imploring look. Their chins were wet with drool, and long trickles of saliva dripped from their mouths as they mouthed indistinct muffled pleas. Messy animals! Ironically, drooling babies had always made me feel a bit nauseous, but now I felt nothing but excitement as I viewed these two helpless creatures laying on the floor of my stable.

I flicked on the lights and closed the door behind me. I wasn't expecting any visitors, the location was very isolated and visitors quite rare, but I wasn't about to take any chances. I made a second mental note to myself. It might be an idea to get some sort of motion sensor or similar down by my entrance gate. Maybe not even that technical. The old moss-covered wooden gate hadn't shifted from the open position in years being half buried in the undergrowth so why not just get a new double gate fitted with an adjacent bell or buzzer for visitors? Bound to be something in this era of technology that would link to my cell phone? Please ring for servitude...I giggled quietly.

The muffled sounds that had emanated from them had now ceased. They were both looking at me with different expressions now that the main lights were on and their rapidly blinking eyes were adjusting from total darkness to the bright illumination. I got the impression that they were taking in the way I was dressed, what did it mean? I could almost hear two brains processing the information. I decided to hit the 'help' button for them and strutted to one of several shallow wall cabinets I'd fixed along one exterior wall.

Nobody seemed to make suitable cupboards for what I wanted so as with so many things I'd had to improvise. My original intent was to have lots of hooks lining the walls with rows and rows of my wicked punishment and other newly acquired 'toys' hanging ominously from them as an ever-present reminder to my pony of the need for absolute obedience. The disadvantage of course was it did sort of make the stable interior and its sinister purpose somewhat obvious if anyone ever casually stuck their head in. True, my pony would be in there, but she would be enclosed in a stall, bitted, bridled and harnessed and thus silenced and away hidden to a certain extent.

I'd settled for some cabinets with deep drawers and the shallow wall cupboards. Ironically the latter had been designed initially to hold model railroad locomotives and their associated rolling stock for train enthusiasts. I had merely removed the many narrow shelves and added a couple of rows of hooks. I giggled nervously to myself as I opened the nearest one and selected an extra-long swishy riding crop. Probably not quite what the manufactures had in mind! The contrast between storage for an innocent pastime and the wicked, cruel use I'd put them to tickled my sense of humour.

I could feel their eyes on me. There had been an instant double sort of muffled outburst behind me when I opened the cupboard door, and they caught a glimpse of the contents. A sort of incoherent cross between exclamation and groan. It was repeated, louder and with more urgency as I gave the crop a couple of preliminary flourishes.

I turned and with lightning speed, raised the crop and brought it down as hard as I could against the padded leather top of a piece of old furniture stacked nearby against the wall, it whistled and then thudded with loud very satisfying sounds. Satisfying to me but not to the two wild-eyed observers!

I repeated the act, this time observing my two little animals closely. Oh, I think this time they both flinched delightfully as well as trying to squeak. How sweet. How thrilling to have this power.

They watched me in silence now as I approached. I strutted, I swaggered, I sashayed, not easy in just a couple of paces, but I felt I managed it quite well. I felt omnipotent, and I wanted them to know that. Here I was, a petite female but booted and power dressed, clean, sweet smelling, but armed with a vicious swishy punishment device, a wicked smile on my face and devilry clearly in my heart. I even did a quick dainty pirouette just, so they got the full effect.

Oh well, time to stop posing and get to work. My fingers were itching and eager to start unwrapping and fondling helpless animal flesh! I waggled the crop ominously a couple of times loving the way their eyes followed it, then took a deep breath and thrust it under my waist belt. I wanted it near to hand because it was almost certainly going to bite someone soon.

Beauty had rolled off her mattress sometime in the night. It stank of urine. Admittedly, it had before I rolled her onto to it last night, but now the smell was fresh, not old, faded and stale. I dragged it over to the door no longer needed. I'd take it back to the local council dump in a day or two, then I changed my mind and dragged it back to its original dank corner. Let it add to the stench in here and who knows, maybe the bitch will be allowed to use it in the future as an occasional treat! Wow, a treat? A night on a revolting piss and shit stained crumbling lump of foam rubber!

Beauty was making noises again. I ignored them and released her first from the straps and then removed the long chain from her hobbles. She didn't try to resist as I rolled her first one way and then the other. Maybe the fight had gone out of her, I hoped not, not yet anyway!

It hadn't; it came back the moment I started to 'unwrap' her. I thumbed an inch or so of the blade from my knife then sliced deftly through the laces on one trainer then the other. Never heard of the make or logo. Some cheap East European or Asian brand. I pulled them off her feet, and that's when she started wriggling and writhing, trying to kick and shrieking muffled curses or similar at me as I tossed her footwear to one side.

I smiled at her. "No use sweetie", I told her. I tapped on her ball gag then pointed towards one of my ears. "I can't hear you, and all of this is going to come off". I grabbed and shook a handful of tee shirt. "Everything, and you can't stop me." The frantic thrashing and attempts to roll around recommenced. I grabbed a flailing ankle and ripped away a short pale-yellow sock. I stood up, pinned the leg to the floor with a booted foot and loosed the riding crop.

Many a night while using a vibrator I had fantasised about that initial beating. The first blows. The first screams. The first sadistic thrill feeding the lust in my crotch. In my mind, my victim was always tied naked to a whipping post or fastened across a flogging bench. I stand nearby threatening, commanding, dominating while choosing my dread implement of pain with deliberate care. Taking my time, relishing the situation, drawing out the terror smiling cruelly as I stared intensely into my helpless victims' eyes as I teasingly swish a cane or crop through the air.

The first blow, hard, very hard, no mercy shown, start as you mean to go on. An agonised scream. Sobs, begging, pleas. A cruel red stripe on white flesh. A long lingering pause to savour the sweet chilling moment, then a second blow and a third....

Ah well, this was now reality, not fantasy and I was getting irritated. I gave Beauty a couple of quick cuts to the sole of one foot. No red stripe that I could discern but the screams and resultant pleas were just the same or would have been if she'd not been chomping on the hard-red ball in her mouth.

I waited patiently till she stopped writhing and mouthing unheard obscenities at me then bent and tapped her on the nose with the flat tip of my crop. "I suggest you stay quite still. Your clothes are coming off, and if you try to stop me, I will take the skin of your feet with this" I tapped her nose a couple of time. "Then I will whip your arse until it is nothing but a lump of bloody red meat".

I ripped the sock off her other foot, stood up abruptly and lashed out again once, twice at the sole of that foot. "Understand bitch?".

Her eyes told me that she did. There was anger, no rage, sheer undiluted rage flashing in them but also fear, fear and understanding. She was shaking now. Fear or rage? Did it matter? I knew that for the moment I had won. I was also shaking, well not shaking so much as trembling. Excitement and sheer sadism, a heady mix. Oh god, I would need to cum soon.

I dropped the crop and went looking for a new tool. A very large pair of scissors was not as frightening as the crop but ultimately perhaps more devastating as I knelt back down beside her. I was impatient now; I wanted the bitch stripped. I ignored the vague sounds behind me as the spare still tried in vain to make herself heard. I quickly unbuckled a cheap leather belt, yanked it through all the loops and tossed it over to lie with the trainers. One advantage of this stupid fashion for 'distressed' jeans full of holes is that the denim seemed much weaker plus you only have to cut from hole to hole and then top and bottoms.

Beauty was making noises again. I ignored her. I was probably ruining one of the most costly items in her wardrobe. I knew that some of these absurd jeans could be ridiculously expensive. Well, she wouldn't need them again so why all the fuss? I had a cute leather outfit already for her, one that had cost me an absolute fortune and hadn't been thrown together in some Asian backstreet death-trap sweatshop! If she wanted a bespoke designer outfit, then she would soon have one. Ok, so maybe it would be somewhat revealing and more than a little restrictive, but I would appreciate the quality and craftsmanship even if she didn't!

The tattered damp remnants of her jeans joined the pile of discards. She had long sturdy yet shapely legs. Dancers legs, oh she would do just fine. They quivered under my touch as I ran a hand lightly from knee to thigh. I wrinkled my nose. Time to rip those rather boring wet stinky plain white panties off and see what treasures lay underneath. A thought struck me, and I left her for a moment while I retrieved another item from the cupboard over my sink unit.

I stood over her again slowly pulling on a pair of thin blue latex hygiene gloves. No need to get my hands all covered in her smelly filth when I had purchased a couple of boxes for just these situations. Her eyes blinked at every elastic snap as I pulled the gloves over my hands then wiggling my fingers to settle the latex I knelt again, snip snip with the scissors and ripped away her piss soaked panties. Poor thing, she kept half rolling from side to side vainly trying to raise a bent leg to cover herself. No chance with those leg irons on.

Amazing! It looked as though she'd never let a razor go down there in her entire life. A great tangled, damp mass of wiry blonde hair that obscured her genital area spreading out like a mini coir doormat in three directions. No Brazilian G-string bikini babe this one! A thought occurred to me. To think is to act, so I plunged a hand between her thighs and probed in the fourth direction. Nope, miss bushy was devoid of hair around the anal area.

My original desire was for a totally bald pony with a sweet clean shaved cunt on display. Nothing hidden, everything that belonged to me on show just for me and my visual delight and the pony's complete shame. On or off, that was the question now? Such an unusual tangled mass, a real furry animal coat! Oh well, no rush, Beauty and I had all the time in the world to resolve these little teasers, didn't we?

That stifled protest that came because of my hand's brief, tentative exploration of the 'rear entrance region was so satisfying. I resisted the overwhelming urge to probe further and deeper with a blue latex finger, how delightfully easy it was to get sidetracked from the main event. I withdrew my hand and eyed her upper torso, time to go for the jackpot. Her arse and thighs would soon get acquainted on a regular basis with my nastier toys, but those big orbs were also destined to feel the painful caress of the same implements when the mood took me.

My palm could feel the warmth of her belly through her sweater as I let it rest lightly on her stomach, my hand rising and falling slightly as she took quick shallow panicky breaths. I pressed a little harder with a rotary movement, flat and firm, no obvious flab on this big filly. I took up the scissors again.

Sweater and an icky faded mauve tee shirt joined the pathetic pile of shredded garments. The big reveal had come as I slowly ripped the ruined tee shirt away from her. I was more than satisfied. A fine pair of udders, not huge but indeed a match for my fantasy expectations. She needed the cheap bra that I snipped and tossed so casually away, mayhap the last item of 'human clothing the animal would ever get to wear.

Those pale soft gently quivering udders would soon look so delightful thrusting out prominently above the leather harness, probably drooping slightly now that they would not have any support, but how they would bounce and jiggle when she was made to run or to dance at the whipping post. Pity the nipples and aureoles were rather small I would have liked them more prominent, but maybe they would be extra sensitive? I'd find out soon enough. Anyway, everything else was just perfect. I licked my lips. Beauty was just that - a real beaut!


Chapter 8 - Finalising a disappearance

I gave it half an hour. Yes, I'd got myself way too worked up again. I was back in the house with yet another coffee, stronger this time and nibbling on a ginger biscuit for energy although my hunger was not for food. I was watching a monitor. Beauty had sort of rolled, and bum shuffled first to her pile of ruined clothing then over to her friend. I'd adjusted her ankle hobbles so that her legs were now tightly drawn together. If she got to her feet, she could bunny hop, but that was about all and the stable door was locked. They were back to back now probably looking for some way to release each other from the cuffs. No chance without the universal key on the bunch in my pocket.

Nothing on the radio or local news. Nothing at all bar a minor road traffic incident and a break-in at a supermarket. A black hole had swallowed them, and no one knew a thing about it. In a day or two perhaps someone somewhere, probably more than one person would start to worry, maybe even eventually start to make enquiries. Who knows, the trail would go cold at that farm, perhaps that idiot farmer would find himself in the dock on a more severe charge than employing a few illegals?

I glanced at the wall clock. Plenty of time. I would spend the rest of the morning dressing Beauty in her new outfit and getting her provisionally settled into a stall. The rest of the afternoon could be devoted to...to Cutie? I considered it. She would need a name, and maybe that would do for now. Maybe the Internet would give me a better alternative, something appropriate for a female bitch dog but also suitably demeaning and humiliating. Maybe a name in her own language? No, no point. Dogs don't understand language, only specific words and the tone you used. The bitch would be trained like any other dog so why give a fig if it understood or not!

Another idea occurred to me. A rather cruel one as I was thinking about the Internet, names, pictures. I considered for a few moments. It could, of course, make things a trifle more awkward, but not by very much, they were both going to struggle anyway weren't they? It would be fun to watch their reactions, and that would more than makeup for any additional minor handling difficulties encountered.

I switched my PC back on, sipping coffee and mentally combing through my many saved image files to come up with a few suitable ones while it booted up. I flicked the printer switch, rummaged through an untidy drawer and found the rarely used glossy printer paper I was seeking....

I closed and locked the stable door behind me again. They were lying side by side next to the second filthy mattress. One now completely naked bar restraint's the spare still fully wrapped. I considered them both for a moment from my lofty position standing above them. They were both silent for a change. Maybe they were beginning to learn that a gag was just that! Why waste energy? I probably had been too lenient and not tightened them enough that's why they could still make those muted noises.

Together or separate I mused when I showed them the pictures I was carrying? Separate, I think. Doggie could watch me outfit Beauty and put her away in the stable, but I might dress her in my house. Maybe, I would need to get an outfit first anyway. I might just keep her chained up in one of the spare bedrooms, the empty one with nothing in it now but dust and faded carpeting. Beauty would next get to see her again on a leash when we went walkies over to the stable.

I would have to browse the Internet in the evening, go to a few of my particular bookmarked BDSM equipment sites. The one I'd purchased a lot of the pony gear from I knew also had a selection of 'puppy gear', horrendously expensive I thought if it was anything like the pony stuff I had purchased. I could probably devise a way of keeping the little bitch down her on hands and knees in the meantime.

I remember buying the pony gear. Gawd! At the time I couldn't believe what I was spending and spending on what was purely then a masturbatory fantasy! It had started off small and then grown likewise the quality and price of the items I bought. The cheap eBay trash soon gave way to more substantial pieces of kit. It became a sort of ongoing drug! I'd vaguely excused it at the time as 'maybe meeting someone on the scene' but never really considered it too seriously. They say collectors soon become fanatics and that's what I had quickly become as my equipment inventory grew in tandem with my ever-increasing masturbatory fantasies. A fanatic who had now collected and pinned the ultimate 'butterflies to her private collection display board.

Beauties stall was already; it had been waiting on an occupant for some time. The old woodwork sanded down and re-stained, hinges and ironwork painted, and oiled, old white-washed brick walls rubbed down and given a couple of fresh white coats, all part of the overall refurbishment by the contractors. The removable food and water bowls sunk into the shelf at the back was my addition as were the numerous heavy security eye bolts and hooks.

Despite my diminutive size, I wasn't some fluffy air-headed bimbo who needed someone shouting, 'hairy end down when using a paint brush! I could paint, decorate and put a shelf up with the best to them. A few decent drill bits of varying sizes, my big electric drill, some heavy-duty fixings and backing plates. Nobody was going to pull those babies out of the wood and brickwork not without the aid of a large spanner and a hammer. Neither of which would ever be available to restrained pony lacking the use of its fore hoofs! Um, did human ponies have fore hoofs?

Walking over to the allocated stall I was conscious that two pairs of eyes would be tracking me. I opened the top door and hooked it open then did the same with the lower. I had always wondered why they'd originally been built like that. Usually, that split door arrangement was only used when they led directly out into an exterior enclosed stable yard.

The stall was about twelve feet long by about seven wide and separated from the ones on either side by a tall wooden partition. The original floor had been replaced by a fresh concrete one that slightly inclined toward the stable wall. A narrow channel ran along there into a foot square drain covered with a fine metal grill. I was going to have to muck the animal out, but I'd use a hosepipe as much as possible.

Just a couple more touches, and it would be 'home sweet stall' I grinned. I looked over my shoulder. Yes, they were both silent and watching. Pity they didn't get the joke, yet! Maybe I should do a colour print of that on my PC, frame it and hang it on the wall, lol.

I hauled several big bags of 'Best quality pet sawdust' over from a pile in the corner. I struggled a little; it was heavy. Enough there to keep a few hundred pet hamsters happy for life. My knife came in useful again on the robust plastic packaging, and I soon finished spreading the contents evenly over the floor of the stall. That had been another decision to make.

Given that Beauty would be wearing 'hoof boots did I need to use a floor covering. I decided yes if nothing else it would add to the animal environment plus absorb some of the dung that was going to be coming out of her. Hell, maybe I could even have a few bags outside my gate like the riding school further down the road did, help yourself, free horse manure for your roses, donations welcome. Maybe not, might be too much of a giveaway. My sense of humour was in fine fettle today.

I wondered if I should water them again then decided against it. They wouldn't die on me for the lack of a drink, not just yet. Beauty could get her head in her trough once I'd got her settled and I'd get the spares head in a bowl later. There was something else though that needed doing urgently.

Last night I had been conscious that something was missing, and I ought to have dealt with it earlier. My mantra must be Security, Security, Security. No compromises. I should have checked their bags and phones. How many young girls do you see these days without a cell phone tucked into a rear pocket of those over tight pants they wear? Were those phones still in the caravan, unlikely?

No, I'd dismissed the thought last night. Surely, they would have been the first things they would have grabbed when they prepared for a hasty evacuation? I went to my car and quickly found the two cloth shoulder bags, retrieved the holdall Beauty had been carrying that I'd casually tossed to one side last night, the big holdall and the second smaller one from the car boot.

I deliberately put the bags down near to them, so they could watch me as I knelt and proceeded to rummage through all of their pathetic possessions. My hunch from the previous evening had been right. I found the phones immediately tucked away in the two cheap looking shoulder style bags. I upended them and tipped the contents of both bags into a small pile, pulled a few zips undone and shook everything else out before tossing the empty husks onto the remnants of Beauties clothes.

Ignoring the animated if muted noises emanating from stage left I examined my little hoard. Tissues, various cosmetics, keys, coins, notebooks and diary's, mirrors, cheap ballpoint pens, combs and brushes, a half tube of peppermints, a plastic lighter, mp3 player, earphone buds, two packets of Marlborough light cigarettes one unopened and all the other stuff you would expect to find. Interestingly there was a packet of contraceptives and what looked like a half-empty foil sheet of birth control pills. Well well well, maybe my assumption of the night before had been wrong. Whose I wondered?

I did isolate two new looking passports, one loose, one in a document wallet, another wallet and of course the two cell phones of a make I was not familiar with. Both were switched off as far as I could see which was good. I didn't want any busybody trying to use a 'find my phone app'. Do they work when a phone is switched off?

I went over to my workbench area and came back with an old metal waste paper bin, a house brick and a claw hammer. It was tempting to be nosey and browse around on the phone's contents, but I decided against it. I wasn't that interested and who knows what might happen if I activated them. Besides, there might be family photos and that sort of thing, and although I didn't give a shit, the less, I saw of anything like that the better. These were just two unfortunate animals I'd cut from the herd, and I wasn't the least bit interested in their previous existence. That no longer had any relevance for them and I certainly wasn't about to open the door to any personal guilt vault!

I put a phone down in the hollow of the brick and methodically smashed it to pieces with the hammer. I repeated the action with the second phone. The batteries I retrieved and dropped on the work-bench, all the other less dangerous bits went into the waste bin. Boy, those gags did need tightening, or maybe I needed to go up a size judging by the animation and muffled sounds my two beasts were making. Well, pretty pretties its about to get worse so take a long last look at who and what you used to be.

I then went through the wallets. Credit cards, identity cards, bank notes, a book of UK stamps, a strange looking driving licence, loyalty cards in a foreign language and other bits and bobs. The UK notes, near on two hundred pounds plus two hundred and sixty US I pocketed. Cue, even more, attempted noise. Everything else I threw into the waste bin along with the wallets.

The two passports were both red European Union ones. I was familiar with those as I had one myself buried deep somewhere in the knicker drawer in my bedroom along with my chequebook and various insurance documents. I did not look at the country on the cover but flipped open the second to last page in each being careful to hide the first few data lines with my fingers. Silly perhaps, but I did not want to know their names. Names would make them people, might make me feel guilty, as it was, they were not people merely my animals, and I did not feel the slightest twinge of guilt.

I only wanted to see their dates of birth. Beauty was halfway through her twenty-second year while little Cutie was barely nineteen. I didn't bother memorising the dates; there wouldn't be any point there would be no celebrations here. Well, maybe we might have an anniversary once a year. Call it capture day, perhaps? Well, I could hardly call it Independence Day, could I!

I held the passports up, so they could clearly see, then slowly ripped them in half along the spines and tossed them into the bin. Cue more muted noises from the captive duo. I could have done all this in the house of course, but I wanted them to watch their entire lives disappearing before their eyes. Cruel but then again, I'd hardly got started down that particular road.

I salvaged one of the plastic ballpoints, ripped a few blank pages from a diary then tipped most of the other junk from the handbags into the waste bin before going outside to fetch a couple more items. I returned dragging an old once galvanised trash bin now more rust and holes than a useful refuse container, plus the plastic petrol can I used to fuel my strimmer and lawn mower. I poured a little petrol into the small metal waste paper bin, picked up a couple of pages from the diary, lit them with the plastic lighter and tossed them into the bin. All three of us watched as the flames flared up and quickly ensured that two people had just ceased to exist!


Chapter 9 - Dressing A Ponygirl (added: 2019/02/09)

I let the small waste bin burn, dragged the battered old galvanised dustbin into a more visible position and turned my attention to the other three bags. First things first, I bundled up everything I'd so recently removed from Beauty and tossed it into the big bin. Yet more frantic but stifled noises which I of course ignored. I think they both guessed what my next course of action would be.

I quickly riffled through all three bags, the two smaller holdalls and the big long one. Clothes, lots of clothes but nothing exciting. A couple of small zip bags full of cheap cosmetics, shoes, trainers a couple of pairs of boots, a cheap rip off copy of a pair of Ugg boots and a whole heap of everyday utilitarian white cotton underwear. Sheesh, had neither of these bitches heard of 'sexy'? It looked like they had come purely to be casual farm labour, all jumpers, jeans and warm white winter underwear! There were also books, quite a lot of books some obvious fiction but some that looked like medical and mathematical textbooks. So, the animals had brains, Good, they might learn faster although better that they were stupid, for their sakes anyway, life with me was not going to be intellectually stimulating!

I retrieved the ballpoint pen from where I'd just casually discarded it, and the remaining diary page using them to jot down shoe sizes, European of course not UK but every clothing site on the Internet seemed to have a conversion chart. I also rummaged through the pile looking at labels in various items of clothing so that I knew what sizes they both took. I'd intended to use a tape measure later but once again, no harm in doubling up especially if you were about to spend a lot more money on a specialised BDSM pet suit and other items! I scribbled down some information on the page, folded it and squirrelled it away with the bank notes I'd just liberated.

There was nothing immediately apparent in the growing piles that I wanted or could use, so some aerosol spray cans joined the phone batteries on the workbench before I stuffed a miscellaneous armful of clothing into the big rusty bin. Next, I ripped a few books apart down the spines, added them and a few shoes to the mix then dragged it out into the backyard. I came back, picked up the petrol can, waved it maliciously in the direction of two pairs of horrified eyes and went back outside. The first batch was soon burning. It would take a few days I guessed to get rid of the lot but better than adding it to my ordinary household rubbish to be collected. Just for good measure, I tipped the half-burnt remnants from the waste paper bin into the bigger burning dustbin. Those rust holes certainly assisted in turning it onto a useful brazier.

Time to think about getting Beauty nicely kitted out and ready for her new life which reminded me of the pictures that I had printed out earlier. This should be interesting. Stand by for a wild reaction. I pulled a fabric tape measure out of another pocket and went over to Beauty stooping to pick up my previously discarded riding crop enroute.

They both looked up at me, looked at the crop I was suggestively flexing and then back to me - two pairs of eyes moving in tandem. They were frightened, no, correction, they were apprehensive that's all. They had not learnt to fear me yet, but they would and soon. Beauty had already felt the crop on her feet, but those although painful had been relatively light taps.

I pointed at Beauty with the business end of my crop. "Stay still" I commanded. "Stay still and don't move, otherwise", I waggled the crop ominously.

Their expression changed a little. Now I could see a hint of fear, just a little but that would grow just as the exciting sensations I could feel in me grew as I savoured my total dominance and ownership of these two beauties. We would grow together but I, technically the smallest and weakest, was the one who would always be by far the biggest and strongest!

I knelt by Beauty tape measure to hand. I took a few necessary measurements, bust waist and one or two others I might need in the future. I retrieved the scrap of paper from my pocket and jotted them down. She remained entirely passive even helpfully arching up a little as I passed the tape under her. Beauty really was perfect. The kit I had waiting for her might have been tailor-made or as near as damn it! She was exactly what I had envisaged when purchasing so much of it. Big feet though! Oh well, better for her to balance on when I rode her, and I had wisely not invested in any 'hoof' boots yet. I'd get some made to measure; she could dance around in a cheapo pair of high heels or similar in the short term. Rome wasn't built in a day, and those things would have to be an individual purchase. Made to measure and bound to cost an absolute fortune!

Most of what I needed was in the top drawer of my nearest unit; I started taking out various pieces and laying them on the flat polished top. Oh gosh, that heady crisp scent of fresh new leather came wafting out. One of my three favourites all time smell sensations, leather, new car interiors and fresh ground coffee, delicious!

The German company I'd found had a wide range of options available, and the online details had been quite open about suggested usage. Mine all came from the 24/7 collection, and I hadn't gone for the padded comfort range either. I'd opted for their 'Extreme 'Raw' range. Restrain, confine, punish your beast! Well, that's what I wanted, and that is what I had purchased.

The website had been quite explicit. Intended for severe heavy use only! Suitable only for experienced players. Bold, underline and repeated. Designed to be put on AND STAY ON by your owner......you had better trust them! This is NOT a playsuit. Recommended for serious Barn and Stable use only, not the bedroom! I wasn't sure just how much of this was marketing aimed at the average wank fetishist and how much was intended to be genuine. Well, when I'd bought it, I suppose with my little pink vibrator earning its keep, I fell into that former category.

There was no doubting the quality though. This stuff was thick, thicker than a leather belt yet also highly supple where it needed to be and inflexible where it didn't need to be. One addition was the delicate strands of woven steel threaded or stitched into certain parts of it. They guaranteed it to be one hundred per cent inescapable and even had an offer of a Million Euros to anyone who could manage it. So far the reward was unclaimed.

It wasn't called the raw range just for show. The same explicit marketing blurb urged you to harness your beast and leave it harnessed. The longer, the better if you want it to mould to and absorb the creatures sweat and fluids and smell like the real thing! Sounded good to me and some of the accompanying pictures had gone straight into my pet folder even if disappointingly most of the gear being modelled or worn was by huge chunky six pack type guys.

Another aspect that had attracted me was simplicity. Half if not most of the attraction to some people seemed to revolve around the number of straps, buckles and belts every harness seemed to require. I suppose if you were a bondage aficionado that was most of the fun. Me, I wanted simplicity, ease of use and straightforward 24/7 uncomplicated functionality, not buckles and bows! Nor had I wanted something custom made to measure. Maybe now though that could be a future option, but again no doubt at an astronomic price? To be fair, I suppose if you were making gear that exclusive then you would need to charge premium prices.

I had everything laid out now, straps loose or undone ready for a first and possibly permanent fitting. Gleaming brand new sweet-smelling black leather. Probably still way too stiff but give it a few weeks, plenty of sweat and a few soakings with the hosepipe and it will become more comfortable. Correction let's say wearable! Polished on the outer side and just raw stained black hide on inner. Some things might need replacing, but I had plenty of time to find out which ones. Now I just needed her up off the floor and temporarily secured in a helpless position so that I could introduce her to her new attire! Time mayhap for a little more encouragement with the crop?

Helpless but readily accessible. Dressing a reluctant beast had been a regular aspect that featured in my nightly sessions of masturbatory extasy as I'd fantasised through every detail of my newly discovered interests - the fantasy that had now become a reality.

Laughable really. The piece of furniture I dragged out was an ultra-cheap purchase at my local DIY store. Actually, it was quite well made, but I'd seen it and bought it as an end of line item. Technically it was a table for pasting wallpaper. It was now about to become a dressing table for a reluctant pony girl. Like I said, laughable although I doubted if she'd be laughing.

That smell of shit was getting stronger I absently noted as I unfolded the table and let the legs drop down and slotted in their retaining pins. Someone was losing it again! I gave it a shake, it did wobble but not that much, quite a sturdy piece for the price. It was about five and a half feet long by two broad. Big enough for my purposes. To be perfectly honest I had bought it for its original purpose but never gotten around to using it.

I suppose if I'd thought about it beforehand, I could have adapted it and got all sorts of straps fitted, but I hadn't, and they weren't. In books and stories, the 'bondage bench' was always ready to hand. Unfortunately, I didn't have one, and this had caught my eye a little earlier. One thing I did have was a drawer full of different straps and various lengths of rope, so just a little improvisation was all that was needed. I also added a couple of short webbing luggage straps with one-way roller buckles, a relic of past days out with my boyfriend used to secure our bicycles to a rack on his car. How to get her from there to here though? Would the crop be enough incentive?

Nope, no point in rushing it, take your time. If the bitch somehow managed to lash out and caught me or damaged herself badly, well better not to provide any opportunity. I selected one of the items I'd already laid out, added a long coil of strong, thin rope from a drawer, and crossed back to where Beauty lay.

She didn't like the collar, I knew she wouldn't, but then she was not going to like any of the stuff I intended to outfit her in. Not much fun for me if she did like it! Initially, she had lain there quite motionless as I approached and then rolled her over face down. It wasn't till I slid the posture collar under and around her neck that she started to react. Muted noise again and attempted leg kicking. Well, real leg kicking as best she could with them both hobbled together. Unfortunately, a waste of effort, I was busy at the opposite end and thus well out of range.

I buckled the collar tightly but not too tight, plenty of time for fine tuning later. I gave it an unnecessary tug to check security and slid a finger down between it and her neck - bags of room. The collar was one of my expensive but straightforward pieces. I'd eschewed the fancier types and the ones with lockable fixings. I quite liked the idea of locks and the sound of padlocks clicking shut with an air of permanence but reluctantly decided against it. Locks would have their place, but a wide strap and sturdy buckle would do just fine with no key to worry about. Only one of us would ever be able to remove it anyway!

One end of the rope I threaded through a D ring at the rear of the collar and then stepped back. Her first piece of tack now fitted, and she clearly was not at all a happy bunny. I could see why. The stiff leather was quite unyielding and held her head up quite firmly. There was a slight lip at the front beneath her chin to provide a modicum of support, I'd even been kind and bought the one that had a little padding to that lip so that it wouldn't rub her raw. Bearable so long as you did not try and move your head around a lot. I knew because I'd tried it on myself. Anyway, why would she need that sort of freedom-not as if she'd be watching a tennis match ever!

The restriction was 'as of now, a fact of life for this animal. It was very effective. Once she was standing upright, she'd never see her feet again unless looking in a mirror or bent double; it allowed no downward neck movement whatsoever. She might, maybe, just be able to catch a glimpse of her udders if they stuck out far enough but again, perhaps not.

I walked back towards my makeshift table, stopped before I reached it and tossed the coil of rope over one of the old stout roof support beams. I gave it an experimental tug and sawed it backwards and forwards a few times. Could have done with a pulley but good enough for my immediate purposes. I added a selection of straps ready to hand for securing the beast. Took a deep breath. GTG!

She flinched so delightfully as I tapped her again with my crop. I loved the way she quivered. I bent down. "We are going to take a little walk" I whispered quietly to her. "Across to the table over there and when we get there you are going to get on it and lay face down on it, understand?"

Her reaction was about what I expected. Her head wobbled amusingly. Clearly, she had attempted to shake it violently from side to side and then found she couldn't, or not very effectively. Score the first point for my restraints., Her legs flailed about wildly again though, and the muffled noises she made sounded even more frantic.

Time for her first real lesson in obedience. I turned briefly to check if little miss cutie was watching, she was, wide-eyed and apprehensive. I gave her a quick evil sort of smile and then turned ultra-quickly and brought the riding crop down hard in a swift blow to Beauties big beast rump.

TWACK!!!

Wow, how could she manage to squeak like that with a gag in the mouth? I loved the way her arse wobbled as the crop hit, and there was my very first red strip plus the distinct mark left by the crops wide leather tip. I had to use all my self-control to restrain myself from adding a second, but I resisted the temptation. Oh, how I wanted to hear that squeak again and watch that delightful big pink mass wobble! Later.

I prodded her in the ribs with a boot. "Now do you want me to do that a few more times?" I asked, "Or do you want to do as I tell you?"

She responded by scrabbling with her legs and making more noises. I knew what she meant. I moved to assist her loosening the hobble chain between her leg's, so she had a bit more freedom of movement then I grabbed her collar and pulled her up and backwards. "Kneel". It took a little manoeuvring, but I got her up kneeling, and then I tugged her upwards half supporting her as she managed to get to her feet. She staggered a bit and seemed almost grateful to be standing, after all, that time on the floor. I wondered if she realised that once in her stall, she might not get the chance to lay down again for quite some time!

No way I was going to allow her time to regain her full faculties. She was slightly dizzy and unbalanced and not fully adjusted to standing again. I gripped the loose end of the rope to take in the slack and pull it tight. There was another muffled squeak. No, I wasn't about to hang her. Keeping the line fairly taught I steered her over the table. Given the difference in our respective sizes, I was taking no chances with this big filly who towered over me even in her bare feet. If she tried anything, I could quickly dance out of range, haul in the slack, tie it off and then proceed to flog the rebellious bitch senseless.

Once she was in place at one end, I tapped her on the bottom with my crop. "Bend down and lay forward on it". I ordered. I emphasised the order with a slightly harder tap making sure the flat tip flicked to catch her. She obeyed. Fortunately, she had been too distressed and so not noticed the array of straps and leather harness items laid out on the nearby unit. That posture collar certainly did restrict things.

"Lift your legs". I assisted her by half lifting half pushing so that as her legs came up, she slid further along my makeshift bondage table. It creaked and wobbled quite a bit but fortunately didn't collapse under a weight way greater it had ever been intended to support. I hadn't even thought of that.

I grabbed a couple of the webbing luggage straps. One of them went over the middle of her back under the table and through the roller buckle. I used the edge of the table to get some extra purchase and hauled it very tight. She bucked and made another noise. I gave it an extra tug which took in another half inch. The ratchet held solid keeping her pinned helplessly, head jerking a little at one end and legs kicking at the other. I looped the second bright nylon orange strap around her upper thighs and slid it down past her knees pulling the slack in so that her flailing legs were brought under control and held rigid against the table's varnished plywood surface.

I paused. I felt quite out of breath even though I hadn't done anything to exert myself. Stress and tension possibly? I was getting used to those muted noises she was still emitting by now. Waste of time bitch save your energy. It grew a tad louder because I chose to run a hand over the red raised weal on her backside. It wasn't all that prominent, I could barely feel it, and even the red was fading. I'd seen far worse on some of my Internet downloaded video clips. Well, so I needed some practice, the next few days would produce a different crop of marks, excuse the pun!

I checked the two restraining straps for signs of slackening and found none. They would do the job I didn't need more. Not very sophisticated or fetish like but perfectly adequate. Time now though to add another piece of harness to the filly and this one was a hundred per cent pure bondage fetish item. I picked up the long black leather armbinder and laid it loosely down her back. Pictures or arm binder I wondered. Armbinder first, she was going to get very agitated when I showed her those 'interesting' pictures I'd printed out earlier.

I'd chosen this piece of kit only after a lot of thought and a lot of 'googling' for images on the Internet. I had ruled out those with long zippers even though they would be quicker and easier to put on. I mistrusted their long-term security. I'd also ruled out those that had various neck or over the shoulder harness straps as per my minimum buckles, and bows rule. Likewise, I had ruled out anything too thin or that I felt too thick. I was fussy; I wanted something both durable and secure but also supple and flexible enough to mould slightly. My German company naturally had provided just the right product.

Ultimately, we would, of course, go for the full reverse prayer position, maximum discomfort, but for now, something simpler to apply and achieve was what was required. "Put your hands together" I ordered. "Do it like you were going to say your prayers, now!" I picked up the crop and hit the edge of the table with it, hard, "Do it".

She did as I ordered. There was a jingle from the handcuff chain as she brought her palms together her fingers closed. I reached for the leather pouch that had come with the armbinder. It was shaped like a long narrowing triangle with a truncated bottom. Wide at the top for the two wrists but narrow at the bottom where the finger ends were constrained. It had a practical purpose. If the armbinder was loosened at the bottom, the pouch could easily be slipped off for finger maintenance. The beast would need the ends of her fore-hoofs trimming from time to time. They were short enough to be ok for now. I grinned again as another thought struck me. Once sure and certain cure if you have a bad nail-biting habit, not sure it would catch on though!

I slipped the pouch over her hands, quite a tight fit due to the metal plates incorporated between the layers of thin leather and her hands like the rest of her were hardly dainty. No way she would be able to do anything other than some very minor finger twitching, then I pulled the drawstring at the wrist tight and finished by tying off with a double yet bow. The long length of armbinder followed. I worked it under her arms so that the lower end overlapped the top of the wrist pouch constricting her hands by a couple of inches. The binder laced from wrist end to the top but was separated into several sections for convenience. I quickly laced up the first part, tugging on the laced after threading each pair of holes. I'd probably have to repeat this daily I suspected as the garment settled and her body slowly adapted to it.

Despite my aversion, it was necessary to have a few buckled fittings for extra security. One went around the wrist overlap at the bottom, and I pulled it tight before moving onto the next section of lacing. The next section pulled the upper forearms, and elbows close together. I added another strap and moved on to the final and shortest part.

She was grunting in pain as I tied the final bow and then the final buckle, this last one was built into the binder at the very top. I pushed the leather tongue through and around the roller heaving on it as much as I could before tucking the end home. She was now distinctly bowed as her shoulders and upper arms struggling in vain against the leather constraining them. I was getting hot again; she looked so helplessly sexy.

Resisting the urge for yet another coffee, I elected to carry on. My parents had always said I was a bit of a tomboy when I was younger. I'll admit I was never much of a girlie girl, but I did go through the 'Barbie' stage like many little girls. I enjoyed buying new outfits, then dressing and undressing my collection in their finery. I didn't have a 'Ken'. I remember turning down the offer of one as a birthday present in favour of more outfits. I'd forgotten that. I looked over towards little cutie, now wriggling around in obvious discomfort.

Maybe I was a closet lesbian? I'd never really been that keen on boys.... nor girls as well come to that, but now? I was genuinely getting turned on 'playing this version of dress the dolly', one that had no more choice than my plastic ones had all those years ago. I chuckled to myself; my mother always said I was too heavy handed with them. I double checked Beauties fastenings' again, tweaked the mid armbinder strap a tad tighter ignoring the muffled squeak. Well if she could see me now?

I patted beauty on the head. "Don't worry bitch; I don't think I'll be accidentally pulling any heads or legs off this time around". I smiled inwardly and told myself 'Other intentional malicious damage though is more or less assured!'

I let my fingers lightly comb through her hair. It was beautifully soft and seemed lightly scented. I was immediately jealous; mine was decidedly wiry in texture. I'd never liked my hair overmuch. It wasn't precisely curly, but my short thatch would never grow straight correctly. I would have loved long straight hair, but bar wearing a wig I was permanently saddled with my short pixie style look. She still had hers in that long, full-bodied single plait now a little dusty and dishevelled. Absent-minded I picked a dead leaf and a couple of small twigs out of it then I decided it was time for the pictures.

The papering table was too short to accommodate Beauty fully. She was laying face down, ankles and feet sticking out at one end and her head at the other supported by the stiff posture collar half on and off the edge. I walked over to my 'may come in useful some time junk pile' in the far corner and retrieved a paint-stained old chair. Well, half a chair since it was minus its back. I usually used it to stand cans of paint on or roller trays while decorating. I carefully positioned it just below Beauties head so that she would get a good view of the images.

I selected the first one and laid it on the seat for her to see. This was going to be oh so amusing. It took a few seconds for her to register what she was looking down at fully. The first glossy picture was a photograph of a ponygirl in her stall dressed in all her finery - tall head plume, bridle and bit, breasts with little bells dangling from the nipples protruding through cut outs in the heavy leather corset, hoof boots. A rope ran from the head harness to the rear of the stall. I let her take it all in and then added the next. Same model, same stall but this time she had turned, so we saw the back view. The arms clearly restrained in the long arm binder with rows and rows of buckled straps also the tail and butt plug so prominent in her anus.

I could not resist reaching over with my other hand and running my fingers slowly along the armbinder. The thickness of the leather was not enough to cloak the movement. Her attempts to move had been quite animated once she took in the details of the first photo, I think the second one and feeling the touch of my fingers along the restraint set her off once it had all fully registered with her. I thought for a second that she'd shake the table apart but no, for the price it had been a good buy.

Just so the animal had no doubts as to what I had planned I placed the third picture down. This time a colourful drawing depicting a helpless ponygirl being exercised out of doors. Arms in a binder, large naked breasts bouncing, bitted, bridled, hoof boots raised high she pranced wide-eyed and despite the cruel bit stretching her mouth managed to convey a look of pure horror. A long lunge resin ran from her bridle the other end held by a tiny girl dressed cowboy fashion. She was laughing as the long whip she held in the other hand flicked out to connect with her pony's naked rump.

I added the fourth image. A colourful cartoon, another harnessed pony girl this time in a stall stretched over a frame, her face invisible as a young farm girl casually used one hand to push the creatures face down into a trough, the other hand, of course, gripped the obligatory crop. The trough was marked oats, and the cartoon was headed 'Feeding Time' in big letters.

I added two pictures in quick succession. I'd had my fun watching the frantic reactions, but now it was time to move things on. Picture five was a cruel drawing of a helpless ponygirl being severely flogged by another youthful owner. The poor animal was covered in nasty stripes and clearly screaming her head off, no bit on this one. The young sadist was quite mercilessly administering the flogging. Picture six returned to the pair in the third image. This time the young cowgirl was riding her beast. The picture was labelled 'Broken'. The ponygirl was running in a sort of bent forward pose, her young rider sitting comfortably on a saddle part way up the ponies back reins in one hand and obligatory crop in the other. Broken maybe but the drawing showed that the crop was not being carried just for show!

By now Beauty was making bizarre noises. The table was shaking as her whole body seemed to be quivering. Rage? Fear? Both? I bent closer, why she was crying now. Sobbing in terror maybe, tears coursing down her cheeks. Her bright blue eyes stared imploringly at me. I smiled and caressed one soft cheek then pouted a kiss at her. "Good pony be good, and things won't be too bad". Liar I thought. I wonder if the subliminal aspect of my chosen pictures had registered with her. In almost every image the pony girl pictured was substantially bigger than the dominants controlling them - and here I was, a petite little miss!

The last picture was presented to her. This time I had selected a few frames from a short story series and cut and pasted them together on one sheet. A young pretty bikini-clad 'California type' platinum blonde on the beach. All glowing health, Big bust, white teeth and very long hair blowing in the wind. Unbeknown to her she was being watched by a severe hard-faced woman behind her. The same blonde now clad ponygirl fashion strapped in a chair, the hard-faced woman dressed in riding gear watching as another woman worked on the blonde girl's head with scissors and a razor. A close up of the horrified blonde being shown a butt plug complete with a long platinum blonde tail! The final frame depicted the blond complete with tail prancing to the tune of her mistress's cruel whip. The long blonde hair now gone, replaced with a single Mohican cut, her head completely bald either side of the raised plume.

"Cute, eh" I whispered in her ear.

I suspected she was probably quite proud of that blonde mane. Most of those shampoos and conditioner I'd found it in the bags had probably belonged to her. Well, that was in the past. That hair belonged to me now, and I would decide what would become of it.

Decisions decisions. I rather liked that long blond mane. I could use one of those conical headpieces on top of her head so that she had a high ponytail, a blonde plume of her hair sticking up and then flowing down her back. That would look oh so pretty. On the other hand, I found the idea of a shaved or partly shaved head very sexy. I remember getting very wet once while reading a lesdom story. The wicked Domina kept all her personal harem of female and male' slaves bald-headed, relishing the feel of touching and stroking a smooth bald head between her legs while it went about the business of satisfying her with its tongue. Stroking my ponies' bald bits would feel kinda sexy.

Maybe there was a compromise. I intended harvesting some of that hair anyway for the special tailpiece I'd purchased. I'd give her a few days before I introduced that. It wasn't one of the bog-standard ones you could find on any sex shop site, red plastic with black nylon tail hairs. This one was a lot bigger and much more unique. Anyway, all that was something else to think about meanwhile there was still plenty of other things to do.

The main body harness went on next. I'd thought long and hard about this item as well. I quite liked those with cutouts revealing big bare udders, but I also loved the tight waspie type ones. My Swiss company had a good selection and could adapt any model to personal requirements. I'd decided that there was no need to set everything in stone. Hell, now we were looking at ultra-long term were we not. The bitch would wear a dozen or more variations over the coming years for my delight and titillation likewise with everything else. That was the beauty of this situation; it was virtually open-ended, and I had already decided not to dwell too much on the negative implications of a possible end scenario!

I worked the chosen garment under her between body and the table. Was garment the right term? Waist harness? Whatever. I had gone for a straightforward design but also somewhat sophisticated in its wicked fastenings. Basically, a large under bust enlarged waspie corset of stiff black reinforced leather. In front, it rose at the top in the middle far enough and shaped to separate the pony's udders but would neither support nor cut into that soft flesh. At the bottom, it extended in a broader and deeper V towards the wearer's crotch. In the rear, it crossed straight across the back just below the shoulder blades and plunged at the bottom in another V shape.

There were five fastenings at the back but less visible and far more adjustable than any clumsy strap, buckles or pull cords. I eased the 'garment' into place carefully pulling one side slightly over the other at the back then feeding the male tongue of the middle fastening into the low-profile female lock on the other side of the garment. I inserted a special Allen Key into the female half and began to wind it round and round. One edge of the corset slowly crept over the other as I turned the key.

I paused to jiggle the stiff leather garment a little to ensure it fitted correctly. I loosened the luggage strap cautiously across her back so that I had a bit more room to manoeuvre, slipping a hand under her and taking my time to ensure the fillies udders were appropriately positioned. I suppose that should have been something of an erotic moment for me, but I was too caught up in getting that piece of tack on her to notice or feel anything.

Satisfied I quickly threaded the four remaining male tongues into their respective female counterparts and tightened them all far enough to secure the garment. I jiggled it around some more to get it adequately settled and then tightened the fittings till I was satisfied that it fitted snugly. I wasn't at this point going to start over tightening it. That could wait till she was up on her feet, hoofs I mean, then that waist was going to get one hell of a lot trimmer, diet and my little Allen key would guarantee that in the months to come!

Interesting, I noted that the creature had smooth armpits. She obviously shaved under there but never touched that great hairy mons of hers. I ran a hand down one of her legs, that was also quite smooth. Oh well, from now on I wouldn't be bothering with that. It wasn't as if she was going to be out anywhere flaunting herself in hot pants and a skimpy top or a bikini. She was just an animal, and some body hair would not be amiss.

I liked that corset, plain, simple, relatively smooth and utterly inescapable without one of the special keys. There were extra fittings, of course, discrete D rings in the appropriate places and a couple more of the thin embedded tension locks lower down, one front and back designed to take the accompanying crotch strap that would soon be fitted out with a couple of the numerous interesting little 'add-ons' I had purchased.

Almost ready now. Just a couple more things needed to complete our little dressing game then we could close this first part of the initiation, get it fed and watered and 'settled' into its new home! Make the most of this little interlude animal; it will be the last time you get to lay down for a while, in human form anyway. That was going to be an interesting little experiment, I mused, just how long could a two-legged equine last before needing to lay on the ground?

Head harness next. "No". I tapped her sharply on the nose with two fingers. Still!" I commanded and reached past her head to select a picture from those on the chair beneath her. I chose picture five and reached for my riding crop, tapped the picture lightly with the business end a couple of times deliberately targeting the well whip marked buttocks of the pictured pony. I then brought it crashing down once, twice, three times. The picture and those underneath crumpled and ripped, and Beauty squeaked and tried to jump about again as best she could. I tapped her on the nose with the little leather flap at the end of my crop, ran it gently around her face, touched her lips and finished with another light tap on the end of her nose. "Still!".

The old expression 'Good as gold' came to mind. I hadn't thought of that since I was a kid at my grandmother's house, but it certainly described the sudden change in Beauty. Noise and movement ceased abruptly as she stared down at the mutilated picture. Well, even the dumbest animal can learn!

Slipping the head harness on was now quite easy. Quite a few straps and buckles on this piece but I did not mind them, probably the only sure way to get a good fit and they did add to the harnessed 'animal' look. This item was classic. I lifted her hair up and out of the way, easy thanks to the style she used. A band around the top of the head, an over-head side to side one and one under chin strap, the inverted Y shaped straps from a headband that separated to run either side of the nose down towards the edges of the mouth region, the strap around the back of her head that would support the bit. All common but again manufactured to the highest standard. There was another Y shaped strap at the rear, this time right way up, that took a bit of adjusting before I'd got her blonde plait through the top part of the Y.

Voila, the human being had disappeared behind the thin leather straps, and I was now looking at the semi-obscured frightened features of an animal. My animal. Pity I had nothing suitable for its hoofs! Never mind, they'd be alright on the sawdust floor of her stall. I did not envisage her going out of it for a while, and by then I'd have gotten something. I could get a cheap pair of stiletto heeled boots off eBay they'd do for a bit.

I walked over to recheck her stall. Perfect. Nothing sharp or dangerous, all was ready for its unwilling occupant. I gave little cutie another dig in the ribs with a toe end as I passed. "Quiet, I'll get to you soon sweetie".

Once released from the luggage straps I slid her back off the end of the table and helped back to her feet remembering to move the rope from her collar, no longer needed. No arms and with legs still hobbled I steered her step by step towards the prepared stall. About two-thirds of the way across she suddenly stiffened and braced her feet. I think she'd just seen our destination, remembered the pictures and realised what she was heading towards.

No problem, a couple of very mild swipes across the beast's rump with my crop was all it took. Obstinance I'm afraid was not on the agenda. Blind, unquestioning obedience would be. I guided her in and towards the back then reached for a short length of chain secured by a heavy-duty bolt to the wall at one end, the other fitted with a swivel fitting and stout clip. Quickly reaching up I pressed firmly on the clip, slipped it over the D ring on the front of her collar and released my thumb and took a pace or two backwards.

The rush hit me all at once. I was completely unprepared, and it was so unexpected. My knees buckled slightly. My eyes blinked for a moment wet, and all unfocused and I shook boy did I shake. I had an orgasm just standing there totally out of the blue from nowhere it hit me. That image that had once formed in my mind months ago was now one hundred per cent reality as I looked into that stall and there was my own, my very own for real ponygirl tethered there.

I spasmed entirely out of control for a moment as I enjoyed that absolute interlude of pure, intense pleasure. Ok, so the beast had been looking at the wall in front of her rather than at me with fear in her eyes, nor did her pale hide display the mix of old and fresh marks from my whip, nor was there as yet the heavy overlaying animal smell of shit, sweat, leather, piss and the rest. That would come through, that would come. Now time now for that coffee I thought before un-wrapping the increasingly damp and smelly spare. Sheesh.... what was this thing with me and coffee at the moment? Oh well, if the caffeine keeps me awake tonight, so what? I looked back towards Cutie. I had a hunch that I might well be playing late tonight anyway!


Chapter 10 - Genesis of a Puppy Girl (added: 2019/02/19)

Peckish. A little empty on the inside I decided as I went back to the house. Breakfast was a meal I all too often skimped on or missed out altogether. Maybe that would change now I had a couple of animals to attend to every morning, well three including the ever-hungry young Raven.

I briefly listened to the local radio station again while making my brunch - still nothing on the news about the two creatures secured in my stable. A police spokesman thanked the public and said they had some promising local leads in respect of the supermarket robbery. The newsreader informed us that some so-called 'reality TV' celebratory was going to have a minor part in a forthcoming production at the Theatre Royal. The brainless bimbo was 'ever so thrilled' apparently. Hmm, from the radio report I gathered it was a walk-on, say three lines and walk off part. Obviously, the producer was canny enough to find this additional incentive in the form of a big bust and pretty smile to separate some of the local tabloid reading morons from their money!

One coffee and a quick cheese and onion toastie later and I was ready and eager to resume 'playing with my newly acquired toys. I was still damp down below, but I decided against changing my panties, only going to get wet again I suspected. Very wet maybe I thought as I threw a quick glance towards my riding crop resting innocently on a kitchen worktop.

Back in the stable, I went to have a good look at Beauty. She was just as I had left her. Well, of course, you fool! Where was she going to go with legs hobbled and chained by the neck to a solid brick wall? Her head turned as I approached, and she half shuffled around to face me. Those indistinct muted noises came again from her gagged mouth, muffled but sounding kinda urgent. One foot, I mean hoof also stamped repeatedly on the floor. Her head kept bobbing up and down, and when she was not stamping her hoof, she was shuffling from one to the other.

She did look magnificent. I'd struck gold, no platinum or whatever with this one. Tall, broad-shouldered but with a decently slimmish waist, big shapely prominent udders, broad-hipped, great butt and long shapely but strong looking legs. Not bad in the looks department either. To be honest, I'd have settled for far less in my animal so long as it was capable of fulfilling my primary criteria. Beauty well exceeded that.

I stood there for some minutes just admiring her. My for real ponygirl, my very own captive animal. Should I put a bit of makeup on her? She was quite attractive in an Amazonian sort of way. Or should I keep her au-natural? Maybe on special occasions or something like that. Makeup? Again, wasn't that straying back into human territory? I had to tense my body hard, the very thoughts I was having was making me oh so very randy. Oh my God, the very fact that here I was standing there looking at her and I had the power the absolute power to do to her whatever I wished and that...that magnificent big beautiful animal couldn't do a single thing to stop me!

I loved the contrast between the shiny black leather and creamy pale skin; the difference was just divine. All the images I'd seen on the Internet hadn't prepared me for this sight in the flesh. My choice of harness seemed to me at that moment precisely right. It was perfect, the way that waspie corset fitted her, the slight bulges of skin around the edge where it 'bit' into her a little because of the tight fit. A tight leather grip that I fully intend would get even tighter as the days went by.

The face was no longer human not now. Well, it was of course, but now it was partially hidden behind the straps of her bridle. Not a full face, only certain features peeking out at me particularly those eyes glaring at me. Hostile, angry, enraged even but oh so helpless. I wondered when that look would change from hostile to hopeless, not too soon I hoped. What would the look in those eyes be like once I gave her a taste of the whip I wondered? Tearful, angry, probably a mixture of a whole range of emotions. I should enjoy some deep eyeball to eyeball visual contact when I started her training. What would I see?

All that creamy pony flesh on display for my delight. Long muscled but shapely legs that went on forever. Oh, to have legs like that, I wish! But of course, I did have legs like that now-they just happened to be on the animal I was looking at rather than me, but they were still mine. That big peach of an arse on her, pink and creamy and soon to be the first target for my painful toys. Should I concentrate on just one cheek and save the other for later....um, yet another wickedly cruel decision to make.

I was right not to clutter her too much with excess tack. I could fully admire the big shapely breasts that swung so delightfully free as she shuffled first one way and then the other. Back, front, back and front again. No matter which way she turned her most private parts were on view to me, how wretchedly humiliated and embarrassed she must be feeling.

A thought crossed my mind. I wondered what price I would have had to pay for her in one of those 'slave or human livestock' auctions that frequently seem to occur in BDSM fiction if there were real equivalent ones held somewhere out there in the world? A great deal I suspected, hundreds of thousands, a million maybe? Speculation and anyway I didn't have to spend a penny, I already owned the animal. I shivered as another delightful thrill ran through me.

She was hopping almost continuously from one foot to the other now, body swaying side to side, muttered incomprehensible noises still emanating from behind the red gag. I suddenly twigged, I knew what the problem was, well not a problem, there was a simple solution after all.

I smiled at her. "Go where you stand ponygirl, you might as well you ain't-a gonna get to go any other way". I pointed down at the floor. "You wanna shit or piss, do it in the dirt like the animal you are now". I pointed at the floor again with the crop. "Don't worry; I'll muck you out later......if your good". I laughed.

Gawd, if looks could kill. I could only see so much of her face now but the look in her eyes. Wow, just a few simple words and I'd defined the difference between us, and she knew it. I think realisation was dawning that this wasn't just some crazy game: the animal and her owner. The creature sort of shook frantically and then shuffled around to face the wall again still hopping from foot to foot. I was a little disappointed. Not to worry, I could always catch the animals first 'dump' via the wall camera recording if I missed it. Pity though, I'd like her to be aware that I was watching....

"Suit yourself then, only a matter of time, and we've both got plenty of that". I gave her a light flick on the rump with the crop and once again delighted in the way she flinched. I wondered if I should be talking to her at all, that sort of sent a message that I was still treating her as if she were still human didn't it? Something else to think about. Should I stop immediately and just issue simple commands, or condition her slowly and wind it down over a few days or even weeks?

I left her to her torment. It wouldn't be an issue in the future anyway, not once she had her tail, and she WOULD have that 24/7. Another one of my 'nasty' little toys would ensure that not only would her anus firmly hold the butt plug supporting the tail, but it would also keep the sphincter permanently open. A combination of diet and an ever-open butt hole would ensure that like any equine, what needed to void would drop regardless of the creatures wishes or whereabouts. Give her a few years, and she probably wouldn't even be aware of it!

Cutie appeared to be equally desperate. Her face wasn't obscured other than by the red ball gag, so her features showed a mixture of rage, fear and I think a touch of embarrassment. Well anyone would be embarrassed I suppose laying there in a puddle of their urine and from the smell, a crotch full of crap!

I dropped the crop noticing as I did so how her eyes had automatically fixed on it and followed it down. Hadn't taken either of them very long to recognise where the most significant threat came from, had it? My fingers were soon flexing once again as I settled them into another pair of blue latex gloves then I needed my useful little knife once more.

Strangely this cute little bitch didn't have too much fight in her as I stripped her. Good thing? Bad thing? Time would tell. I suspected that the events of the last...well not even twenty-four hours had taken its toll. I wonder if she had managed any sleep at all last night?

I didn't even bother unknotting her trainers, just ran the blade upwards slashing through the laces: one, two, sock and sock. No belt, Scissors where had I put them? Jeans, no silly fashionable holes in hers, tough to cut at the ankle seams, crotch and waist. Pull off and toss away the blue tatters. Panties, snip and pull, and oh.... a gorgeous little-shaved fanny. Wow, what a contrast to the hairy animal over there!

A cute little mons all plump and 'young girlie' looking, her slit almost hidden in that cute little bump. No, my slit now I corrected myself. Oh, the urge to touch and probe. Resist, resist, other things still to do. I did notice it was damp, not surprising since a good part of her jeans and panties were well saturated and not just with urine and the smell around us was damn strong!

A bucket half filled with cold water, a roll of cheap kitchen towel and a sponge were put to good use cleaning her up - no point in being squeamish about it. Funny, years ago I'd crossed nursing off my list of possible careers because I couldn't see myself ever doing what I was doing now. Strange? Here I was now 'de-shitting' the filthy little beast! Have to get her 'house trained' as soon as possible, don't want to be doing this too often!

More snips, chunky sweater, home knitted by the look of it, now ruined and tossed on the discard pile. Tee shirt, no idea what the logo meant or the language, don't care, off, and finally just the bra. I paused partly because I wanted to savour this moment and partly because my little 'puppy' seemed to recover from her temporary bout of paralysis abruptly.

Like Beauty earlier she began to trash about legs trying to kick, ineffectively I might add given the hobble and the chain still tethering her to a stout post. She was trying to sit partly upright and then throwing herself backwards both legs kicking at empty air. My hand hovered briefly for a moment over the bra then I changed my mind. Quite amusing, let's play there later. I left her to it for a couple of minutes while I went to prepare one or two things.

I rummaged in my toy drawers and began to retrieve various items. Funny how things sometimes work out. Most of these pieces had been earlier purchases bought before I discovered my German site. The quality was still excellent though and given the envisaged 'indoor' role primarily perhaps more appropriate over time.

I decided to fold away the papering table. I could do what I needed to do without it. Puppy dog was not much taller than me and now minus the baggy outer garments and stripped down to its bare hide, was almost the same build as I was. I retrieved the filthy mattress Beauty had lain on, checked it was still dry(ish) and then dragged it over to the cleaner floor area of the still struggling bitch. I wasn't at all concerned about puppy dogs' comfort, but I didn't want her damaging herself on the concrete floor, and even more importantly, I did not want to be kneeling in any of her filth on her mattress!

The bout of kicking was over when I returned to her. She was panting hard and banging her head up and down on the dirty old mattress in a fit of frustration. I dropped an armful of leather, chain and rope on the floor next to her, grabbed at a leg and arm then heaved her over onto her belly and over onto the second mattress. I swung a leg over and settled myself on her thighs, lassoed one kicking leg with the noose I'd just made in a short length of rope, hooked it over the other foot and hauled in the slack. Shuffling forward a little I pinned her lower legs down.

A three-inch-wide black leather ankle cuff was fastened above each foot. Pink I thought as I did it. Beauty can always wear black or maybe red. Pink though in future I think for puppy here once we get everything permanently sorted. I also removed the long chain from her leg irons while I was working on this end.

A quick rummage through the pile next to me and I found the next item. I manoeuvred myself around and shuffled forward to kneel astride her thighs still pinning her down on that awful mattress. Phew, I was going to need to change and shower once we were done. I was probably ruining my expensive riding breeches despite my precautions.

The leather waspie corset slid under her, and I pulled the ends around behind her back to fasten the straps. This garment had been one of my first purchases. It was not as big as the one Beauty now wore nor as sophisticated. About a foot or so deep and fastened at the back with several straps and roller buckles. Good job I had decided against it. I knew it was too small for my proposed pony girl the moment I had unpacked it, but I couldn't resist trying it on a few times myself. Having worn it in bed and masturbated a few times while wearing it, I could hardly return it could I.

It was going to come in very useful now. It wasn't too uncomfortable to wear, but then I had never worn it with the straps pulled highly - no ultra-tight! Nor had I worn it 24/7. Oh, well, we will find out, well one of us will!

I fastened the straps pulling them as tight as I could with the aid of the roller buckles. I then went back to the first one and started again. She was squeaking continually into the gag when I repeated the tightening sequence for the third time. I ran my hand underneath her; the leather was not as thick as the one beauty now wore, and I could easily feel her body warmth through the constricting second skin I'd just bound her in.

While perched on her thighs I took the opportunity to strap another leather cuff around each of her wrists. Then shuffling up and gripping her around the waist with my knees I leant forward to add a collar around her neck. Unlike Beauty, I did not fit that too tight. I wanted her to have a bit off room just like a proper dog when I had her on the leash, but as with any dog collar, this one was still on tight enough not to pull off. Well, to be honest, she'd have had to have had a tiny head for that to happen.

Only one thing left to arrange, but I wasn't a hundred per cent sure how to achieve that. I slipped off her; I needed to fetch something from my house. I left her lying face down, crying again but doing so very quietly now. I was doing this 'off the cuff' as it were, but I kinda knew where I was going with it.

I came back a few moments later carrying the leather pouffe that had triggered my wicked idea a little earlier. Now how to do this. No, if I did it that way it might hurt her when she moved, no what about, no not that either. Not practical. Another thought struck me, and I went over to the corner where I kept my tools, paint cans, brushes and all those bits and pieces you accumulate that may or (more likely) may not come in useful one day.

Somewhat to my surprise given I wasn't a particularly tidy person I found what I wanted almost immediately. I returned carrying a largish roll of grey duct tape. No idea where it had come from, maybe a relic of when I had that work done on the boiler and heating system when I moved back to the house a couple of years ago. I stopped off at my equipment draw to collect a handful of small but expensive padlocks. None of your cheap Chinese rubbish that fell off your suitcase if a baggage handler sneezed too loudly! These were tough little buggers, and all worked off the one master key which was convenient. I also added a wide leg spreader bar to my collection.

I needed the aid of the crop again briefly. A few casual swats with that and a fair bit of heaving and I had the non-too cooperative little bitch face down on my leather pouffe, legs either side and behind slightly ankles held well apart via the spreader bar. I'd released the leg irons. They would not be needed again I hoped.

Time for little miss puppy dog to adopt her rightful place in the world. My world anyway and that would be crawling at my feet. No more Homo Erectus for her-just Homo Dogus! Her view of the world was going to change abruptly to one that would have a decidedly low-level perspective!

My tape measure came in handy again. Not so much for the little bitch's vital statistics, I could get them any time. I took the measurements I needed at the back and then played around with some of my chain collection. I doubled up a couple of lightweight ones to reduce their length and then went about my fiendish task. I ran one from a D ring on the bottom of her waspie corset to another on her left ankle cuff then repeated the operation with the right ankle.

I used my knife to saw off a couple of hunks of foam rubber from one of the more respectable corners of the nearest mattress and then I cut myself a few long lengths of duct tape. My first attempt failed as she kept kicking her legs up and bending her knees just when I didn't want them bending more than they were already. I tied a length of tope to the spreader bar and then stretched it tightly around a hook on the wall. There that kept them still but also bent at the knees, the chains I'd just fitted not allowing her legs to straighten.

I'm the first to admit that I am no good at wrapping parcels. I read somewhere that this is something that comes naturally to women, we'll not to me! No way. Neatness was not in my make-up as far as that sort of thing went. I was always embarrassed at the post office passing some of my rumpled eBay packages across the counter.

OK, so it was not the most elegant bondage job but would hopefully suffice till my credit card purchased something more suitable and durable. I used a couple of shorter lengths of duct tape to secure a foam pad to each of her knees and then used the roll to wind around and around the knee and either side to keep everything secure. Fortunately, the stuff was still nice and sticky also strong and equally important quite flexible if I didn't go too mad with it. I certainly did not want to cut off her circulation either.

The tape gave me another idea. I made another trip back to the house and came back with a pair of thick sheepskin mittens. She still had her arms bound with one of the straps I'd used last, so I removed that and then used it to pull her forearms together just below the elbow. I released the cuffs and stuffed one hand and then the other into the thick mittens binding them at the wrists with several windings of duct tape.

Not the best paws in the world but again they would do for now. I doubted that she'd be able to get enough use out of her hands and arms to cause any mischief nor did I envisage leaving the bitch unsupervised. If I weren't around, then the little pup would always be chained up somewhere.

I stood back to assess my handiwork. OK, so the hind legs would be OK for now but was I happy with the front ones. A sudden noise behind me diverted my thoughts. Beauty had finally let go.

"Oh, good pony", I cried clapping my hands as I happily watched my big pony girl do what would soon become as natural to her as breathing. Emm, we'll perhaps not, not for a while anyway. Beauty had tried to squat, but the chain at her collar was too short, so she'd let rip in a sort of partial squat hampered by neck chain and by hobbles on her ankles. She didn't hold back either.

Shit and piss, not the best of scents, but it thrilled me. My animal was making herself at home. I'd finish off getting my new puppy ready, and then I'd feed and water the beast. Beauty was back to staring at the wall. I'd briefly seen the angry red-rimmed eyes glaring daggers at me not to mention the scarlet flush of shame visible on what other parts of her face I could see. Judging by her legs, I'd have to walk her over to the wet area by the sink and hose her lower parts down to get some of that muck off her. I was getting the hots again. Wow, this was what it was all about. The absolute power little old me had over that tremendous two-legged dumb animal.

Show over, back to the puppy. No, I wasn't happy with the front paws. I had intended to add some more chains front cuffs to the waist, but did I really want it to have fully extended arms like that? No, I remembered Penny the puppy girl and her outfit waddling around with minimum ability on her stubby legs. That would look cute, and mobility wasn't an issue, she would not ever be going very far. House to stable and back and maybe out into the yard a couple of times a day to do her business once house trained. Could I wait until I got a puppy costume? No again, I wanted the little bitch waddling around from the start. How?

Duct tape? Maybe but was there...maybe there was. I recalled some of the images I had seen or downloaded; another idea was knocking at the door! I thought about it for about half a minute then went out of the stable and around to the rear of the building. Another old junk pile half overgrown. Ouch, and nettles! I spotted the item I wanted near the top of the heap. Sheesh, now I'm hunting for buried treasure, we'll semi-buried treasure as I retrieved the thing I wanted.

My new stainless-steel sink in the stable was useful to rinse the accumulated filth of it; then I carefully examined my old trophy noting areas where the rubber had perished. Despite having been out there for goodness how many years it was still in pretty good condition, the black rubber still pliable and stretchy. It would cling and be firm enough for my purpose. I laid it on my workbench and cut some sections out of the old car tyre inner tube I'd just retrieved.

I carved a few more lumps of foam rubber from the diminishing mattress, trimmed them off a little neater at my workbench and then found an unopened tube of superglue. Horrible stuff but darn useful when you want to stick a couple of unlikely things together quickly. This was not going to be very elegant but who gave a fuck. Apart from Beauty, I would be the only other observer, and they'd do the job in the short term.

I couldn't resist detouring over to Beauties stall on my way back to 'puppy dog'. Must think of a suitable name for the little bitch I thought and quick if she's to start learning to answer to it! Beauty was hugging the rear wall trying to avoid the fresh mess she'd just created nestling in a pristine bed of sawdust just behind her. I wondered if I should replace the neck chain with a longer one, give her a bit more freedom within the confines of the stall. Nope, let the beast suffer for a bit, she'll learn in time to do it over to one side and out of the way rather than slap bang in the middle at one end.

I returned to 'puppy girl' who was still struggling in vain against the restraints I'd already placed on her. She caught sight of the pile of rubber offcuts and leather straps I was carrying and looked more than a little alarmed. I laughed.

"Change of plans sweetie", I told her. "Had a better idea, not that I think you will like it, in fact, I know you won't". I dropped what I was carrying and stooped to pick up my riding crop and tapped her lightly on the head a couple of times. "Now be a good little puppy and stay quite still for me or..." I changed my aim and rapped her on the bottom just a tad harder, "...or else"! I taped twice more and then swung it a couple of times in front of her eyes.

She might not speak English, but I got the impression that she understood enough to get my meaning, we'll perhaps a combination of that and the palpable threat of the ominous crop being wielded by this 'deranged bitch'. Well, I suppose you'd have to be pretty dense not to get the message. 'Behave or else'. I gave her a couple of seconds then tossed it on the ground in front of her and set to work once more.

One of my equipment draws contained a veritable treasure trove of different straps. I seemed to have lost track somewhere along the line of how much I was buying and how much I was spending. I had no recollection of buying all that lot, no wait. Now I remembered, a lot of the gear I'd bought had come with additional straps either as part of the kit or as complimentary freebies. At the time I'd been more interested in the 'main' purchases and just kept shoving them in the second draw down.

I might have a minor aversion to half a zillion buckles and bows on my creatures, but they had their uses in the short term. I grabbed a few straps from the pile and tried them around her thighs and calves, too thick, not long enough, just right. Once I had the four leather bands in place, I used a thin piece of cord to join a thigh band to calf band, loosed the earlier restrains then hauled on the cord till the two bands were touching. One of my padlocks slipped through two convenient 'D' rings and voila, one bent and secure puppy leg. Ideally, I would have preferred to replace the two straps with one larger and wider one at this point, but I didn't have anything suitable. The two smaller ones and the robust lock would have to do in the short term.

She was wriggling and writhing again now in as much as she could and making those unintelligible noises once more. That bent leg didn't look to be all that comfortable to me, and I am a hundred per cent certain it didn't feel so to her. Tough. I loosened the straps by one notch and used my little finger to check underneath, plenty of room - no danger of cutting her circulation off. One padlock didn't look all that secure to me even though they were top quality, but the other 'D' rings were in the wrong place. No problem, I cut a short length of cord, threaded it through both of them till I had a triple length and tied it off. I was never a Girl Guide or a sailor, so to me, a knot is a knot, and no one was going to undo that clump without the aid of a knife!

I repeated the first stage of operation 'dog leg' on the other side, checked everything again and then stood back to contemplate the next phase of the procedure. There was no way she was going to be able to stand up now. Like Beauty over there, her days as a human being were over-bar the sudden arrival of the US cavalry and I couldn't hear a single bugle call, nor did I expect too!

Elbows or knees next, I considered? Logic dictated to carry on with what I had already started, so I grabbed another handful of straps and set about organising her forelegs. I only needed one pair of straps for this as I was able to loosen the wrist cuffs a little and move them back a little so that they matched up with the straps I used on her upper arms near the shoulder. Two more locks and some cord and puppy was now beginning to exhibit a delightful resemblance to 'Poor Penny' minus the puppy suit.

Only one thing left. I vacated the stable for a minute to retrieve a tub of talcum powder from my bathroom. I'd considered oil or grease, both available near to my workbench but decided that apart from the mess they might degrade the old rubber quicker than I would want, so impatient as I was, I went to fetch the talc.

I gave each of my DIY 'rubber stump sox' a liberal dusting inside and then for the next five minutes the two of us played a vigorous game of heave-ho as I stretched the old rubber over four reluctant 'make-shift puppy limbs'. I was out of breath by the time I'd finished. So, I think was puppy from the desperate, futile struggles and silent screaming plus her butt was now vividly marked with half a dozen angry red imprints from the flat leather tip of my crop. That had calmed the little bitch down enough to allow me to finish my work.

After a minute so when I'd caught my breath, I hauled the little beast back over the leather pouffe, she'd sort of collapsed sideways off it during our struggles with her new paws. I'll admit that I wasn't overly happy with my wicked handiwork, the front ones were a little loose whereas the rear ones perhaps too tight. I checked the hind legs ones a couple of times with a finger. OK, maybe have to keep an eye on those, but unless they obviously are causing a problem, they'll do for a few days maybe. Before I went to bed, I'd be back online with a couple of special orders to my favourite fetish company. I would pay for express delivery so perhaps no more than three or four days before we got to do it all again. Hmm, I was reasonably sure that getting her into a full suit would not be all that easy. However, by that time I intended that there should be a noticeable difference in Miss Puppy Dogs behaviour which ought to help!

I was about to release the little bitch from off the pouffe when I remembered something else. I changed my mind about the pictures. Beauty had seen hers so why wait till this evening with this cute little animal. Let her not be in any doubt from the start. i.e. now, so that when I walk her on her new stubby legs over to my house later, she will know exactly what sort of creature she is now in my eyes. Give her an idea of what kind of behaviour might be needed is she wants to keep my 'toy's away from her sensitive hide! Anyway, if her response is similar to that of her friend, then it will add to my fun!

I only had four images to lay on the ground just in front of her view, but they were more than enough to get my message across. The first was a colour photograph of a puppy girl on hands and knees crawling to heel behind a pair of glossy black high heeled boots and long shapely legs. A lead stretched upwards from her collar to a gloved hand; another gloved hand negligently held a short-coiled whip. The owner was mostly out of sight bar lower legs, boots and gloves hands but the message conveyed by the image was obvious and reinforced by the 'photoshopped' additions of a few whip marks to the puppy's thighs and rounded white rump!

The second was a black and white drawing of a 'Dalmatian bitch suited' puppy girl on elbows and knees, a stick in her mouth trying to scamper with some haste back to her young mistress in the background. There was no inscription, but again the meaning of the image was reasonably clear. I noticed that the first picture hadn't registered but the second one did. Suddenly there was an attempt at violent movement, all limbs and an anguished muted howl from her gagged mouth, more than one howl, a whole series of rather frantic panicky muted wails by the sound of it. Oh, how delightful.

I lifted my right leg over her and seated myself firmly on her back to hold her in place while reaching forward to show picture number three. Now we were into the 'Poor Penny' series, my puppy girls' prototype. I liked picture three, it set off all sorts of delicious feelings in my hungry clit, but the creature underneath me didn't give off the same vibes. There was Poor Penny in her puppy skin on all fours; her mouth buried deep between the legs of her owner as she entertained her mistress. No doubt giving her all and conscious of that long wicked looking cane with its tip weaving circles in the air above her. A rod that from the marks had already made numerous impressions on her firm buttocks peeping out through the cut-outs in her bitch suit.

I reached forward and patted her lightly on the head. "Its OK little puppy, you will have lots and lots of fun once you get used to your new life. Look" I exclaimed placing the fourth and final picture. Wow, rodeo time, talk about 'bucking broncos! What's the name of that kids' game, Buckeye, Buckroo or something? You know the one I mean. Yeeeeha! The little bitch tried to heave me across the room. Initially, there was nothing but as she took in that image of Big Butch enjoying himself on top of a strapped down and helpless Poor Penny. That picture was a full-size A4 frame in full colour and left nothing out. Butch's big red doggy cock and knot, Penny helpless, face a mask of horror as she was penetrated, the malicious mirth on the faces of the two female observes, old and young! No wonder the little animal reacted as perhaps the full reality of her new role hit home!


Chapter 11 (added: 2019/03/25)

Yep, you guessed it. I was comfortably sprawled in my computer chair slowly my nibbling on a plain chocolate digestive biscuit, open packet conveniently to hand as was yet another mug of coffee. Decaffe this time although I doubted it would make much difference to my metabolism - still way too wound up by recent events and a tad tired out from struggling with reluctant animals.

Beauty had been 'settled in' for the very first night in her new home. The first of hundreds, possibly thousands she would spend in that simple narrow stall. I'd first walked her over to the 'wet' area, not without a struggle, but a mixture of my dragging the reluctant but helpless creature plus the application of my riding crop to one rump cheek had accomplished that short journey. I'd decided that for now, I'd let the crop 'tickle' one rump as needed to gain her cooperation in the short term. Her other I would leave pristine ready for the stable cane when I started the first real lessons in serious obedience training!

Initially, I'd been a bit annoyed and irritated by her stubbornness, but that soon turned to humour once I'd secured the animal to a fitting on the tiled wall. I was unrealistic to expect instant obedience anyway wasn't I and where would the fun be if that was the case. I fully expected and hoped that the obdurate attitude would continue to exist for a long time to come so that I could fully savour the process of breaking her spirit - fun for me, painful and humiliating for her.

My good humour returned once I started to clean her up a bit. I wasn't fussy about it either, there would be longer and much more intimate grooming and cleansing sessions in the future but for now I just wanted her legs de-shitted, so I used my hose pipe and a long-handled semi-stiff brush. Poor thing, that water was quite forceful and damn cold, and there was no way she could avoid it.

Squealing into her gag and dancing around on her hobbled legs she got quite a soaking and gave me a good giggle as she tried to avoid the deluge. Most of the muck quickly washed off, but I couldn't resist giving her a quick scrub with the brush as well. If nothing else, it was yet another practical example for her of what life was going to be like and the absolute power and control I wielded over her. Once again, she was desperately trying to communicate with me, but I totally ignored her and anyway despite all the water flying about I was enjoying the spectacle and did find it all quite amusing. Less so that I also managed to get myself soaked in the process. Gonna have to refine the washdown process a wee bit!

I gave her a quick rub down with a clean coarse cotton towel. I suppose I could have left her to dry off naturally as it wasn't all that cold in the old stable not with the heating on, but I felt the urge to handle her again a bit more intimately, so I rubbed, squeezed and felt while she continued to squeal and struggle. I made sure her feet and lower legs were quite dry so that most of the muck and loosely scattered sawdust on the concrete floor wouldn't stick, then I walked her back to the stall.

Easier this time as some more of the fight seemed to have gone out of her. I yanked her head down to give her hair another pummelling with the towel and then drawing my riding crop from my belt used it to point down at the shitty dump she'd made earlier still nesting in a bed of damp sawdust. Naturally, she'd stepped over it when leaving and re-entering the stall. "Next time animal," I said giving her a mild swat on the thigh. "Over there at the side of your stall". I gestured and gave her another swat a shade harder to emphasise my point.

Once again there was movement and a seemingly endless torrent of muted sound from her which of course I ignored. I just gave her a cold look then turned my back on her and left the stall. I was back a moment later with a bucket and a small hand shovel. She was still trying to communicate and staring angrily at me which was good. I just ignored her and made something of a meal out of scooping up her 'dung' and putting it into the bucket then raking things smooth again with the edge of my shovel. This, I thought to myself was a very symbolic moment. The animal and its owner and the animal I noted had suddenly gone both quiet and very still. I picked up the bucket, raised it to my nose and sniffed deeply then winked at her. "Essence of ponygirl eh Beauty".

The noise and movement had then again started immediately as I went to ditch the contents of the bucket outside. Was it my imagination or did all that muted noise now contain a certain discernible degree of panic? Well, too bad if it did I thought. I didn't just show you those pictures for fun, well I suppose I did but also to get a message across. A very simple message. Welcome to a whole new reality animal!

Still ignoring her pathetic attempts to communicate with me when I came back, I checked her leg hobbles and the chain securing her to the wall of her stall. Satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, I turned to more mundane aspects of ownership. I.e. that of feeding and watering. That presented a slight problem as I would have to remove her gag and no doubt that would unleash a torrent of verbal utterances none of which I particularly wanted to hear. I wasn't in the mood. I considered for a few moments. Teaching her to eat would, of course, be another aspect of the fun and breaking in process. She would have to get her head down into her trough and eat whatever I gave her plus I would expect to see a completely empty trough when she'd finished, or she'd feel my severe displeasure. The question for the moment or two questions, was I in the mode to start her education in pony eating etiquette and if I wasn't, did I need to get some sustenance into her given that it was now some time since she must have last eaten?

I made my decision; she was a big healthy animal wasn't she so another night without 'solids' was unlikely to cause any significant problems. She might be a bit weaker come the morrow, but that was all to the good for the moment. Anyway, the diet I had in mind for her wasn't exactly going to involve a huge degree of chewing. Those big healthy looking but nicotine stained teeth would not be sinking into red meat any time soon. Mush and suck would be more the norm for her!

I would need to get more liquid into her though to prevent her from becoming dehydrated. I thought about it for a second. I could add a bit more substance to that, but the problem of the gag remained. I'd made my mind up that I did not want to hear anything from her. She was an animal; in time she would learn, my whips and canes would teach her that talking was a complete no no! Perhaps it was some physiological thing on my part, some lingering guilt complex?

She spoke English, and I did not want to hear one single comprehensible word from her, not that night anyway. Nor did I want to start the 'heavy' stuff on her. Eagar as I was to begin, I still had other things to attend to, and it was not the time, nor was I in the right mood. The crack of the whip, swish of cane and scream of ponygirl would start on the morrow when I was bright and fresh, and she'd had her first night to start coming to terms with her new life.

Yet another visit over to the house. I returned a few minutes later with a mixer bowl and my green rubber ear douche. Yes, that's right. I tend to suffer from a build-up of ear wax from time to time so following some advice from the practise nurse at my local medical centre I bought a small bottle of medical grade olive oil then via eBay something that looked like a bit like a female douche but designed for ear use. It was made from thin rubber about the size of a tennis ball with a nozzle at the top. Basically, you put a few drops of olive oil in each ear, leave it overnight to soften the wax and then bend your head over a hand basin full of hot water. Immerse the ear bulb, squeeze out the air then blast the hot water into your ear canal, repeat a few times. I found it worked a treat although if you overdid it, you tended to feel dizzy and best to stop at that point.

Ok, if there were any brownie points going for improvisation in such situations, I'd be doing pretty well I thought. Had I something like a baby's bottle maybe I could have used that, but I hadn't and once again was having to come up with a solution to a problem on the fly. I was fixated on not wanting to remove the gag in the animals' mouth, but I needed to get some liquid and nourishment into it. My attempt with the water bottle hadn't been too successful the previous night, so time to refine the technique.

Took about ten minutes but worked quite effectively. I first had to haul in the slack on the chain that secured her collar to the wall so that her head was hard up against it hardly able to move and then I went and fetched an old chair to stand on so that I could conveniently access her mouth. I flipped open that little plastic piece at the front of her gag, dipped my green bulbous device into my mixing bowl to suck up some of the contents and the proceeded to feed the beast through the opening.

I won't say it was completely plain sailing, but we both soon got the hang of it. She'd had that gag in her mouth for quite a while now, but It wasn't by any means the biggest I could have used, probably why she was still capable of making those loud but indecipherable noises. It was solid but once you flipped open that little round door at the front there was a circular channel about a centimetre in circumference right the way through to the other side specifically to pour liquid down. I inserted the nozzle down through that aperture and squeezed the bulb, too hard at first and nearly choked the poor thing. Once the first bout of choking and spluttering was over, I tried again with a less heavy hand.

I can't say that she was enthusiastic about the operation, but then she didn't have much choice did she. There was only so much leeway left in the chain so trying to pull away from me didn't work. That green rubber bulb just followed. Trying not to swallow didn't work either, I just nipped her nose with my other hand. She choked again a couple of times of course which was inevitable if you try to breathe through a mouth full of liquid mush. Eventually and sooner rather than later she decided that co-operating was the most accessible avenue open to her, well probably the only one. I released my grip on her nose and concentrated on feeding her.

I giggled again a time or two. I recalled seeing pictures of suffragettes on hunger strike strapped into a chair and being force-fed with tubes pushed up their nostrils and down into their stomachs. Compared to that this was quite civilised wasn't it? I doubt Beauty appreciated my keen sense of humour, but anyway she was too busy swallowing her supper. It took time, way longer than I thought but down it went.

I have to confess that although my fantasy preparations had been quite thorough in some ways, there were apparent gaps. Food was one. I hadn't given a thought to feeding beyond certain basics-healthy, bland, repetitive. This was a stable after all not a five-star restaurant, and I'd never heard of animals getting much variety in their diet. I recalled that the scraggy cat we'd had when I was a kid lived its entire life on the same brand of cat food. Now that I thought about it I wasn't sure if that was the cat's preference or a lack of imagination on my mother part. Evidently hadn't done it any harm as I recalled for it must have lived for about twenty years.

I wasn't sure and indeed did not care if Beauty was enjoying her first meal. Her eyes sort of bulged a bit, what I could see of them through the head harness but that might have been my imagination. They were wet with tears and still outraged - that I did note. You'll look a bit more docile soon I thought once I'd applied the stable cane a few times.

It was all going down anyway, and I was soon chasing the last remnants around my mixer bowl repeatedly squeezing the bulb to vacuum them up. OK so it wasn't the most exciting meal she'd ever eaten, but it wasn't revolting. I'd tasted a spoonful myself first. Of course, I had, I'm not that cruel, well I probably am, but I didn't want the bitch throwing up in the night and choking on me did I. Better leave that plastic piece open just in case and maybe loosen the gag strap just a smidgen.

My impromptu meal was mostly liquid anyway. I'd used two sachets of instant porridge with twice the suggested amount of hot water, added a generous amount of cold fresh milk and a liquidised 'going brown' banana. All good healthy stuff that should keep the beast fed and hydrated through the night and as I said not necessarily that unpleasant. Bland yes, boring yes, but certainly edible.

Dinner over I cleared away my chair and loosed off her gag slightly then the neck chain. How loose I debated with myself. As before so that she had only a limited room to move about or longer. Did I want her to remain on her hoofs for the whole night or did I cut her some slack, literally, so that she could lay herself down? I measured off a longer length of chain and adjusted the catch. Softie I thought to myself. OK, well I did want her nice and refreshed for tomorrow when I make her sing and dance for me don't I? I eyed the distance to the stall door and decided to add a second chain just for my peace of mind. Neither of them would allow her to reach the entrance and there was no way she could undo the catch if they did. However, early days and I wasn't taking any chances - no harm in taking the belt and braces approach.

Once again, I had the intense urge to reach out and start stroking and fondling helpless pony flesh. My pony, my flesh, mine to do with as I wished. She must have been telepathic because just as I was lengthening the chain and adding the second, she retreated into a corner of the stall as far away from me as she could get. "Going somewhere?" I grinned at her as I snapped the padlocks on the second chain closed.

There was no escape. I pinned her in the corner and ignored the pathetic attempt to kick out at me. I even giggled again. I suddenly had this mental image of slapstick comedy. Beauty lashing out one long shapely leg in a high kick and dragging its supporting hobbled partner along with it. Bound to come back to earth with a bump I thought. Still, better to ensure I avoided such actions. Beauty might well end up on her rump, but I certainly didn't want to lose my front teeth should she succeed in getting those long, muscular legs airborne!

I grabbed a handful of the chain, wrapped a few turns around my wrist and pulled it tight through a supporting wall loop so that once again her head was held firm against the wall. More than firm my less than gentle tug on the chain had caused her head to bang against the wall quite hard.

Interesting, she was way bigger and stronger than me but with her arms pinned in that binder, collared, chained and hobbled I could handle her far more easily than I'd anticipated. That boded well. She was also probably fearful and in a state of shock, and no doubt would display more strenuous signs of life and aggression once she snapped out of that.

I reached out with the other hand and ran a flat palm over the smooth leather that tightly covered her flat belly. I let my hand linger feeling her body warmth then I ran it slowly upwards to those oh so temptingly big soft hanging udders that were begging me to stroke them, so I did. Heavenly, was I a secret lesbian? I don't think so; I felt no desire for her as a woman, no physical attraction that way at all but the high I was getting was undeniable. It came about I am sure because she was so deliciously helpless, the soft, warm flesh under my hands and I could do just as I wished, absolutely anything to the this...this creature!

From one erogenous zone to another my hand slid slowly down onto the warm leather of her corset and then further, off the leather and over warm, smooth, soft trembling pony flesh once more till my fingers brushed that large hairy bush covering her mons. That initiated a prompt return to life from her, muted protests, flecks of angry spittle and drool flying about and frenzied movement. I prudently withdrew dropping the loops of chain. I'd come to a decision. That coarse bush was definitely going to have to come off. That was my twat now, and I wanted to see it, I wanted it on view 24/7 and anyway, how could I stuff my various toys up there if I couldn't even see the target area?

Time to leave. I won't deny that I wasn't sorely tempted to linger and play some more, but I had other things to attend to and tomorrow was going to be a whole new day of fun and games, so I didn't want to get too far ahead of that fixture tonight. I exited the stall, closed the doors and turned to lean over the top one to blow her a kiss. "Nighty night ponygirl, sleep tight, don't let the bugs bite." I turned off all the lights in the stable as I left bar the one above her stall so my wall camera with its little blinking red light could keep an eye on her overnight. As I departed, I could hear the muted sound of her feet stamping in angry frustration in the dirt. I walked back to the kitchen idly wondering if there were any bugs in the stable. Bound to be a few creepy crawlies I suppose, not my problem though.

I took another sip from my mug and glanced down at a scrap of paper near my mouse mat and then back to the monitor screen. I repeated the action, best to double and treble check when you are about to spend this much money, I told myself. Sheesh, keeping human animals certainly didn't come cheap. Well, on reflection I suppose it did. It wasn't as if I'd had to buy the damn bitches in the first place. I was still all 'a tingle' from just running my hands over Beauty. Gosh, if I were to tout the animal around the Middle East or somewhere, how much could I get for it?

I glanced down my order list and then for the umpteenth time down the lengthy list of measurements for the 'special' items. Gawd, made to measure the cost of that puppy suit dwarfed everything else by some margin. Still, gonna be worth it once I get the little bitch into it and I was paying a very high price for their ultra-fast tailored service plus special speedy delivery. I glanced over to the cluttered kitchen side of the large room.

"Raven", I shouted as a movement distracted me. "Leave her alone, off, away." I made as if to get out of my chair, and Raven prudently decided to scuttle out through the open door to my rarely used front parlour. Front parlour, now there was a by-gone term from another age if ever there was one. His muzzle reappeared as he peered enquiringly at me through the partly open door. I snapped my fingers and pointed. "In boy" He scuttled away out of sight, probably to his private den between the old sofa and the bay window no doubt to sulk and chew on one of his many toys.

Raven was young and curious and so naturally when I had entered earlier dragging my reluctant and struggling new puppy on the end of a leash his interest had been kindled. Dragging was probably the appropriate word for our short trip betwixt stable and kitchen. I'd hooked one of Raven's spare leashes on to puppy dogs' new collar and using my crop encouraged her to take her first...well waddle would be a more appropriate term than walk, around the stable.

It was actually quite funny, and I'd had yet another fit of the giggles. Her coordination was all to pot and that coupled with a few swift swats to her rear tended to put the brakes on rather than lead to forward locomotion. However, with a little more encouragement from the crop plus my getting impatient and starting to pull her along we made progress as she began to move on elbows and knees in that head down attitude her restraints forced her to adopt.

I found it all quite cute and so sexy that the juices started flowing again. The sight of this helpless little bitch down there at the end of the leash I was holding frantically trying to move and avoid another stinging swat was quite delicious. That puppy, that thing I had created was actually a fellow human being - once, but no more! It was mine, my very own creation to do with as I pleased. The immense feeling of power made me feel giddy. I flicked out with the crop. That little derriere wiggled so delightfully, and I hadn't even begun to use any significant pain on it yet!

Once safe in the kitchen I led her over to a vacant floor space near a window and tied the leash off on a convenient old metal hook. No idea what it was there for but being an old building, there were all sorts of similar oddments sticking out of walls in various places. I chivvied the enthusiastically barking and prancing Raven into another room and closed the door, not that it kept him out for long. Interesting, I noted that my new puppy appeared genuinely terrified of him - that would add an extra degree of entertainment to the cruel scenarios I had in mind for later on I thought if my evil plans came to fruition.

Twenty minutes or so later I'd fed and bedded Beauty down for the night and was back on my computer logging into my specialist equipment suppliers website and browsing through the fantastic range of products on offer, for a high price! I sometimes wondered how on earth they stayed in business? Yes, they did charge premium plus prices, but then the quality, materials and workmanship were excellent, and the range was vast. Surely though there could not be that many pervs in the world prepared to indulge themselves at those prices?

Puppy play was evidently quite popular as they had a whole section devoted to it. I hadn't paid much attention before what with my fantasy being so focused on the 'pony play' pages. They had plenty of good stuff though and interestingly lots of the pictures this time featured more women than men, unusual as I'd mentioned before they tended to go in for somewhat macho six-pack types modelling their restrictive products, almost always hooded or masked. I wondered if the models were also a bit masochistic because some of that stuff looked quite painful to wear!

I'd reduced 'Fluffy' to tears when I took her measurements. Fluffy! OK so not very imaginative but it sort of came to me when we had 'walkies' across the yard to my kitchen. I was looking back at her and thinking what a sexy bit of fluff she was, and it sort of went from there. I am also something of a Harry Potter fan, and I recalled that Fluffy was the name of the three-headed dog in the first book. Well, I now had a two-headed dog, a human head and a puppy head that just happened to be occupying the same space at the same time.

There were some fantastic doggie suits to choose from, and you could get them in a range of colours and textures and with a whole variety of openings and fastenings. Decisions decisions. If I hadn't been in such a hurry, I'd probably have spent a couple of days making my mind up and no doubt fantasising and masturbating at the same time. No need to masturbate now, well not for much longer cos I would soon have a puppy tongue to use albeit probably quite unwillingly.

Anyway, as with Beauty, there would be plenty of time to chop and change if I wasn't happy with anything. Neither I nor my two new little pets would be going anywhere so plenty of time to play and experiment with different outfits. I made a note of the one I liked. It was a sort of dalmatian one only the spots were fewer and bigger. Just for a moment, I wondered if I should change her name to Spot but decided against it. Fluffy was much more feminine and more in line with the sort of role I envisaged for her.

The texture had also been an important choice. Some of those puppy suits were so shaggy and hairy that looking at the attendant pictures you'd almost believe some of those depicted were real dogs. Maybe those that were heavily into consensual puppy role play big time would go a bundle on them but not me. I wanted visible curves and feminine shape. I wanted something that was recognisably a 'human' girl but rendered helpless via the puppy costume. I wanted thin, smooth, stretchy figure-hugging material, tight-fitting and snug, but to feel oh so sexy when you stroked her in it.

The other big thing, of course, was that it would have to last! Not just a case of a couple of hours of bedroom play or the occasional evening outing to the local fetish club! That's what I liked about this German company. Boy did they charge premium prices but from some of the comments and descriptions, the stuff they manufactured did the business. Once on the little bitch would be wearing it 24/7 and it wouldn't be coming off not till it fell to pieces. She'd have a second skin that she'd eat, sleep, crap and be bathed in no different to any real dog, so it was gonna have to be pretty darn tough and escape proof!

Well, the blurb said they'd guarantee the suit I was buying for six months continuous wear. Six months! I'll bet that's never ever happened before, but it's about to so we will see. I giggled aloud. Not quite sure how I would make a claim - dear sir, I just happened to kidnap someone and forced her into one of your doggie suits, and it only lasted six weeks, please can I have my money back. PS: please don't tell cops!

A little earlier we'd had a bit of a one-sided fight when I went over her with a fabric tape measure to take a range of measurements. I won easily of course and didn't even have to resort to using the riding crop, but I did deliver a couple of satisfyingly meaty spanks to her cute little rump, boy did that feel soooo good. I'd printed off the relevant form for her puppy suit, very convenient to have all the required measurements listed-and there were an awful lot needed for the bespoke ones. I could have bought a cheaper(ish) ready-made one, but I wanted something that would fit the little bitch like a glove, a nice tight one!

Her passivity had lasted until I took the final measurements when my eager fingers reached for her bra straps. I'd been saving this final titbit-excuse the pun! I didn't bother with the catch but just wrenched each shoulder strap from its stitching on the back strap and ripped away the last item of 'human clothing' she'd probably ever wear. Sort of symbolic I thought.

Of course, that re-started the pathetic struggles and muted noises but, sheesh, I mean you'd have thought by now that the total helplessness of her position would be sinking in? Hell, there is not a whole lot you can do about anything when you are down low virtually at floor level, butt naked to boot with your arms and legs doubled up and tightly bound plus having a sizeable lump of hard red rubberised plastic filling most of your mouth!

I suppose I would have done the same in her place. She'd seen the pictures, and she knew what I was doing to her and what I intended doing to her. Yup, I would have struggled as well. But I wasn't the one down there, she was, and I was the cruel bitch relishing the moment and getting ever wetter at the thoughts of all that was to come.

"Quiet, still" I shouted and gave her another meaty slap on the rump, this time hard enough to leave a faint red palm print. That made her buck, but it did serve to quiet her movements although she was making faint whimpering noises. She was trembling when I rolled her onto her side so I could get a good view of my latest treasure. Oh, so nice. Teeny tiny titties but such perfectly formed conical little mounds.

"Mmmm, nice". I reached out to fondle but changed my mind and withdrew my covetous fingers. Business before pleasure, so I quickly took the final couple of measurements and added them to my form. Once done l would be free to have a nice little play but I took my time. Cat and mouse and this pussy was going to enjoy the tasty little rodent. I suddenly giggled again. Well, perhaps I should put that the other way round. The little mouse would certainly get to taste 'pussy' wouldn't she?

I stood up and returned to my pc, took a sip of lukewarm coffee and carefully transferred all her measurements to the online order from. Check, double check, final check on the order and then on to the credit card details. I confess I was a touch uneasy now. In the past, I'd had nothing to fear from giving my details to this company. Indeed the only problem might have been some overzealous customs official deciding my fetish items broke some puritanical import law.

Hardly a major crime though, confiscation of goods and maybe a fine for repeat offences. Now I thought with these two beauties to hand everything had changed, and I had a horrid moment where an image of dank prison cells and clanging iron doors fluttered once again across my consciousness. Idiot. That company already has all my details anyway so what difference is one more order going to make. Anyway, given the sort of stuff, they make you'd have to assume that total discretion was a major factor in their business plan. That did set me pondering for a moment or two as I sat idly looking at my monitor without seeing it. I wondered if I was their only customer with a dark secret? Were there any others like me out there?

Interesting, I clicked through a few webpages re-examining photos. Hmm, quite a few six-pack guys but not all, a few were definitely on the porky side. Likewise, the few female ones and the one thing that had now piqued my interest. Not a single photo showed a face. Bits yes, eyes, mouths, noses peeking out of hoods and harnesses but not one single recognisable whole face. Again, likewise those corsets and harnesses, etc. No loose-fitting leather outfits here to prevent tell-tale marks on the models' bodies. No glossy lipped top shelf cuties in slack fetish gear. Now that I looked closely, I could see how tight and restrictive some of that gear was. Maybe that and the lack of features was all part of the marketing but whoever had dressed those models must have been fairly ruthless with many of those buckles and straps.

I shook myself out of it. Pure fantasy and I had more practical things to attend to. I cast one final careful glance over the order form. Beauties hoof boots? They did have a bespoke service for those, and I'd considered going back to the stable and taking some measurement but decided against it. I liked the idea of hoof boots and those made to measure ones were exceptional both in quality, design and of course price particularly those in what they called the 'lifetime' range. Measure twice, thrice, purchase once, lock on once, and your pony is hoofed for life said the blurb.

Lifetime? Were they kidding? Those boots certainly ticked a lot of boxes. Apparently with use they'd mould to the wearer's legs like a second skin but still allowed the skin to breathe. The realistic hoofs were fitted with steel horseshoes (or hard rubber for indoor use). The blurb did state that almost all owners preferred the steel ones both for practicality and for the more 'realistic' animal sound made by the creature wearing them. They were replaceable anyway if they ever got to worn down. Sheesh, how long would it take to wear out steel or even a hard rubber horseshoes with a bit of occasional ponyplay?

The main thing I'd noted about this companies' boots was that they were not the impractical sort you almost always see depicted in fetish art or photos sort of like six-inch stiletto platforms minus the heel with models teetering on tiptoe on the front hoof portion! They did have some like that, but the blurb made it clear that they were only suited for short term bedroom fetish play and photo shoots, etc.

I knew there were lots of boots like that available because I had a whole file full of sexy hoof booted ponygirl photos on my hard drive and numerous companies made them. Quite a lot in China I'd noticed. Gee, they are into everything these days. Yes, they all looked sexy, but for how long could you wear them? Yet again, great for a photo-shoot or a bit of hanky-spanky short term pony play but much more than an hour and you'd probably be crippling someone! Great for posing but I doubt you could walk very quickly on those relatively small pads let alone run and pull a cart or do anything similar!

The ones my German company made did at first glance look similar, but their design was much more sophisticated and practical. Less high for one thing and while they retained the traditional fetish shape the front part supporting the ball and front of the foot was longer and took a good deal of the weight. The heel was still elevated, but the way the front hoof part was set back so much deeper allowed the upward curve to fully support the arch and heel so that all though the latter was still raised there was a lot of support for it so that it could play its full part in supporting the ponies weight. Much more so than with a traditional high heeled shoe because the smart design meant the heel had a lot more stability.

They were a sort of cross between the fetish hoof boot and one of those ugly 70's platform shoes but with an infill between the front and the heel of the latter. They still looked the part though, very sexy, very fetishy and Beauty would still be going up in the world and enjoying a whole new sensation when moving! They wouldn't, of course, be as comfortable as the trainers her feet had previously been used to, but I was confident that these would be wearable 24/7 without too much discomfort and more importantly ensure that she was still fully mobile - with a bit of practice and 'suitable' encouragement of course. I felt a little flutter and kick from down below. Oh, so much to look forward to, so much to dampen the gusset in my panties!

Since I had last looked, they'd added a couple of short video clips of the boots or similar to the website. A ponygirl was doing some dressage exercises on the end of a long lunge line; she was moving pretty niftily for the out of camera shot person controlling her with line and cracking whip. Two ponyboys are pulling a light cart down a dirt road with a girl perched on top cracking a whip to urge them on, and they were also shifting or trotting very efficiently. Nice, sexy. They were interesting new additions since last I'd looked at this page, and I played them both a few times and was a trifle disappointed to find that there were no more when I browsed more pages. I made a note to check back as there were a couple of notes saying videos pending on the page with all the saddles, carts and other related stuff.

I'd opted for a pair of ready-made ones in Beauties size. I hadn't been one hundred per cent certain in my mind about footwear for her. Sure, those boots would be great and serve to reinforce the animal role I had cast her in...but then I'd always had a bit of a thing for high stilettoes heels, as long as I was not the one wearing the uncomfortable things of course. I had a final ponder.

Hmmm, those long legs would look great and so sexy in high heels, nice eye candy but again we would be moving away from the dehumanisation process and were they really suitable for dirt floors and the sort of activities I had in my nasty little mind for her? Nope. I made my decision and hit the send button. I did seem to be developing a penchant for female flesh but if I wanted a bit of painted up, leggy, high heeled, glossy top shelf magazine fluff, I could always go find a third toy, couldn't I? Whoa, girl slow down! I'd fantasised about getting just one, acquired two...so don't now be a greedy little bitch. You haven't even played with the two you've got yet.

No time like the present and those newly uncovered little titties were soooo cute and perky, just begging for a fondle and a squeeze. Cute with a capital C! Maybe I should pop out and buy a lottery ticket this week? My luck was indeed running sky high. Two adorable animals now in my 'tender' care and not a single hitch as far as I knew. Talk about good fortune. Hell, given my growing lust for what I'd wanted I probably would have settled for some wrinkled old homeless bag lady. Instead, I'd acquired two top of the range creatures for my wicked pleasure.

I glanced over towards Fluffy who'd been starring continually at me with those big green, moist sad puppy eyes. I wondered what she was feeling. A stranger in a strange land and now so helplessly caught up in such a bizarre and terrifying experience. What must be going on in the brain behind those frightened anguished eyes? What questions, what emotions?

Fear for certain. Fear, I reflected, an interesting and unusual emotion. Fortunately, not one which we experience all that often in our daily lives. Not real fear. Yes, we might be afraid we will miss our bus or our flight and similar, worse fail an exam or lose our jobs, but that's still not real fear is it? Not the sort of deep-down gut-wrenching fear little Fluffy must be feeling now as she looked at me.

I met her gaze and looked calmly back at her. I wondered if I should smile, stay impassive or try and look cruel. Did it matter even? Did I care? No, not really. That, that creature over there poised so pathetically on its elbows and knees, so helpless, that thing that I had created and brought so low, that which once had been a human being but no longer was, no, not in my eyes.

I suddenly yawned which surprised me probably much as it did her. I was tired, inwardly I was so wound up with all that had happened and with what I'd done and once again it was fatiguing me to a certain extent. The effect of that yawn set her off. Her body shook, and she suddenly started blubbing big time her whole-body heaving, shaking, quivering and even muffled as she was, I could plainly hear the muted whimpering sort of sounds she made so high was the pitch. I surmised that when I'd looked at her and yawned it had hit her as to just how indifferent I was to her suffering; just how insignificant she was in my eyes and with that had faded any hope that somehow all of this nightmare would somehow come to an early end.

I stood up. Well, she was right I suppose in one respect. Our relationship if that were the correct term, certainly wouldn't be coming to an early conclusion. It had barely even begun. Insignificant? No quite the opposite. Little Fluffy there was going to play a very significant part in my life. Indifferent, perhaps? I'd feed her, groom her, use and enjoy her as I pleased...but as to her...we'll she was merely an animal, my animal, now wasn't she?

I'd fed and watered Beauty so now time to fill a couple of bowls and do the same for this little bitch and poor neglected Raven, then maybe a turn or two around the yard with both of them to see if she needs to do her business although I doubt if she will. Then.... then I think I will select a nice leather paddle and maybe even a cane and we will both retire upstairs early...to play!


Chapter 12 (added: 2019/05/04)

12 Oh, what a beautiful morning.

I couldn't get it out of my head; you know how it is when some completely random tune or song pays you an unexpected visit and then decides to take up residence. It popped into my head as I headed for the bathroom needing an urgent early morning pee. I found myself sort of half humming and half singing the words. Well, it was the morning after the night before...and boy what a night!

"Oh, what a beautiful mornin'

Oh, what a beautiful day

I've got a beautiful feelin'

Everything's goin' my way"

Can't remember where it came from, one of the Rogers and Hammerstein old musicals, Oklahoma, I think. I had a vague memory of watching a video my mother received as a Christmas present a few years back; she was into that old movie musical stuff. Not that it mattered. The song or at least the few lines that had somehow managed to survive my decidedly 'non-musical' nature had lain dormant till now.

I had woken slowly and been contemplating a long lazy lie-in given the lengthy erotic nature of the previous evening's activity. Activities that had resulted in my dropping off to sleep drained and one zillion per cent sexually and sadistically satiated. Oh, boy, what a fantastic night!

However, one of the fundamental requisites of nature had abruptly elbowed my lazy aspirations aside. i.e. my bladder was not inclined to join my slothful mood and bladders don't have snooze buttons! I couldn't roll over and ignore it, and anyway, I now had extra responsibilities hadn't I, so I'd jolly well better get up and start attending to them.

Gawd, I thought staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Face, zombie, reminding of, hair, hedge backwards through dragged and for heaven's sake stop yawning like that you've just had the most beautiful sleep you've probably ever had thanks to little Miss Fluffy puppy dog releasing some of those pent-up frustrations for you!

I felt a twinge of guilt at that, last night I hadn't been kind to her, very much the opposite. I certainly must have had a lot of pent up frustrations, and a whole lot of them had emerged without any restraint last night - good job I didn't have any near neighbours. I wondered if Beauty out in the stable had heard all those screams?

A quick sponge over the face and a few other parts and I began to look marginally less like the bride of Dracula. To hell with a shower. Too damn lazy. I reached for the cotton bathrobe behind the door and then thought, 'what the hell'. I'd left the bed starkers, and I wasn't going to be showing anything to that little bit of fluff in the bedroom that it hadn't seen already. Mmmm, another morning and maybe I would have that lie-in plus perhaps a bit of early morning 'relaxation'.

Fluffy was where I'd left her late last night, and by the smell of it, she'd had another accident. Her leash was tied off to the radiator pipe, and she lay half curled up on her side atop the 'bed' in the corner I'd made for her with a couple of old duvets. She sort of whimpered at me and cowered back as if she thought that somehow, she could melt away through the solid brick wall behind her.

"Morning Fluffy, sleep well puppy?" I tossed off casually and then promptly ignored her as I rummaged in dresser and wardrobes.

I spent some time getting myself ready for the day, a day that if it was anything like the previous night, was going to be so entertaining and exciting and I had every confidence that it would be. Fluffy had been a bonus. Admittedly a handy one but today would be spent in slaking my long-standing desires and fantasies with my own helpless ponygirl. The bonus of course now was that no matter how randy I became and I already knew that I would get very randy, very randy indeed today, and in days to come an excellent source of relief was now available....if a touch unwilling - no more vibrators and self-stimulation for me.

I took the time to brush my hair and apply a little makeup. I didn't give a shit as to how I looked for Fluffy but for Beauty that would be different. Fluffy would see me every day (and night) as I was warts and all and I certainly wasn't going to bother getting 'dolled up' every time I felt the urge to have that little bitch between my legs! Too much trouble, way too much and I knew that from now on I'd be getting randy at all times of the day and night.

Beauty, however, would be different, and I fully intended to start as I meant to go on. I wanted a contrast. Stark contrast. I would be the owner, her owner, always well dressed, clean, scented, feminine, and fresh from my warm, comfortable bed and bathroom. I was her owner and human. Beauty, on the other hand, was owned, and an animal, confined within a spartan stable stall, harnessed, restrained, naked, smelly, befouled and entirely dependent on the whims of her elegant owner.

An owner who had absolute authority and commanded via thought, voice, rein and whip whereas Beauty was a mere beast that bore the marks of the whip, obeyed instantly without thought and had no voice other than the irrelevant sounds of a mindless animal. The difference between us and our respective lifestyles would be vast, and that gulf would never be bridged, nor would there ever be any compassion of compromise on my part.

The fearful subdued whimpering from the corner continued as I dressed. I suppose this was another contrast. Here I was now clad in expensive almost new black glossy riding boots, skin-tight stylish two-tone riding breeches, smart sleeveless crisp white blouse, not to mention my black lacey bra and panties. The creature blubbing quietly in the corner was stark naked apart from the leather collar, corset and homemade little rubber puppy legs. Legs that were by now probably extremely uncomfortable, perhaps painful.

Yes, another delightful contrast. I was the one in total control, dressed and dominant. She, on the other hand, was the dominated one, who had been dressed in what little she had by me, reduced to a crawling cur and lay there whimpering with her little backside a mass of red, black and blue, bruised and bloody flesh. The implements that had done the terrible deeds still near to hand. A long thin bamboo cane was dangling by its curved handle from my bed headboard and a leather paddle with a wooden core lay on the nearby bedside table.

Yes, my nasty little toys had delivered a very firm first obedience lesson and now remained carelessly yet strategically placed before her eyes should she choose to look. Toys that she had only begun to get acquainted with. The first of many that she would share a close relationship with, some more intimately and others with a painful bite!

In retrospect, I probably had got a teensy bit carried away.... that thin whippy cane a bit of a newbie mistake on my part had cut her up a bit too easily, must use a thicker one and not get so carried away unless merited in future. Anyway, I reflected, the lessons delivered last night would undoubtedly linger till tonight when I was sure to want some 'loving' attention from her again.

Yes, that smell was getting stronger now. Fuck, I thought. I'm gonna have to air the bedroom before tonight and probably have to get my latex gloves on again! Who knows what I'll find over there, well from the smell I kind of know what I'll find? Puppy house training I decided was going to have to feature quite high on the 'to do' list in the coming days.

I left her to wallow in her stink and soiled bed. I'd deal with her after I'd fed Raven and myself. All the fun and games the previous night had made me feeling decidedly peckish, unusual because I was not a big breakfast eater. I went down to the kitchen still singing softly to myself.

"I've got a beautiful feelin'

Everything's goin' my way."

Well, that was indeed true. Everything certainly was going my way and listening to the news there was absolutely nothing to indicate otherwise. My animals had disappeared through a black hole into my private galaxy, my personal heaven and their living hell. I chuckled. Their matter was not so much anti-matter, more a case of no longer mattered!

Raven and self suitably fed I dumped my coffee mug and dirty dishes into the sink. One advantage of living alone especially if you were a lazy bitch like me. I tended to 'batch' wash up every couple of days. To be honest, there had been times when I'd gone as long as a week, only being forced to act due to an empty crockery cupboard.

I contemplated whether or not I should do something about Fluffy's bottom. I hadn't exactly spared the rod last night and from what I'd glimpsed of her rump this morning, it looked rather colourful and probably very sore and tender. Not so much fifty shades of grey as fifty shades, of red, Blue, purple and black!

I'd made a resolution and then immediately broken it. The first night, first time for both of us, first of many many nights of wickedly perverse fun, better take it easy. Well, it had been perverse, (very) and fun (for me), but I had got a little bit too enthusiastic. Well, I suppose I could excuse myself if the little bitch had been even a little bit more cooperative - her own fault then, she wouldn't have such a red hot, blistered, sore ass this morning, would she?

It had started of course when I'd fed her and watered her. I suppose I should have done something similar to what I'd done with Beauty earlier. I was in a hurry though and hadn't the patience to go through all that hassle again. I grabbed a couple of Raven's bowls from the cupboard under the sink, picked up his water dish, rinsed it under the tap and refilled it.

I opened a large tin of doggie chunks in gravy, one of the cheaper supermarket own brands. Usually, as much liquid as chunks but you gets what you pay for don't you and if you don't pay much! I decanted about two-thirds of it into Raven's bowl then added a couple of large handfuls of his favourite doggie bix mixture. The remaining third I decanted into a wide chipped earthenware bowl. Changed my mind, didn't want the little bitch cutting herself on those edges so junked that one and found a stainless replacement, sluiced the dust-out and tipped the contents of bowl numero uno into bowl numero duo.

Indeed not the most appetising looking dinner, Raven might have thought so, but I doubted if little Fluffy would feel the same. Too bad, just like Beauty she was going to have to adapt to a whole new diet. Not that I intended to be ultra cruel and feed her just that, well maybe I would be at times if she did piss me off big time at some point. A quick rummage through my refrigerator (must give that a clean out some time soon), some cooked pasta, half a small tin of baked beans and the last pre-cooked chicken leg from a pack of four.

I chopped at the slimy pasta with a knife, ripped the chicken off the bone in small pieces and then added everything to the mix, gave it a few swirls with a wooden spoon. Voila, din dins! Oh, come on, better that than doggie chunks on their own? I even gave it a dash of salt and pepper! Can't say that I would have eaten it but then I didn't have to did I?

Raven, didn't raise any queries regarding the standard of cuisine and plunged his muzzle straight in as usual. Fluffy on the other hand was nothing like as enthusiastic as I dragged her over to the feeding area, it took both of my hands on the leash plus a few sharp kicks to get her moving.

She'd been watching what I'd been doing, I'd seen out of the corner of my eye. I held up the now empty tin of doggie chunks for her to see and gave it a little waggle running my tongue slowly around my lips as I did so and making a rather rude slurping noise before tossing it into the trash can.

Neither of us was in any doubt as to what I was going to require next - my wicked anticipatory grin colliding with her wide-eyed look of horror.

"Now now" I chided. "You'll like this, nice puppy chow and we'll get rid of that nasty old red ball muzzle from your mouth. Din dins and then you can thank me later to show me how much puppy girl loves her nice new generous owner."

I'd no idea how much she understood, probably very little beyond the visual, but then it didn't matter. As with most owner/pet conversations most of it if not all was for my benefit, not hers. Thinking about it, her lack of English would be a bonus for me. It meant that she would be no better than Raven over there and she would learn just like him. Learn to respond to the tone of my voice, my mood and to those short commands that I would give her.

I bent down to pat her head and gave her soft hair a few gentle strokes, then unbuckled the gag straps, gently eased it out of her mouth and tossed it onto the draining board. I patted her gently on the back as she took a few heaving deep breaths and almost choked. "There there puppy."

I must admit I was tempted to retrieve the thing and stuff it right back where it had just come from! Even the greedy Raven was startled enough to temporarily abandon the last few mouthfuls in his bowl and look up with a startled expression. Talk about noise.

It was a good job; my nearest neighbours were a couple of miles away. Twenty-four hours of pent up silence exploded out of her mouth like the vocal equivalent of Hiroshima! Screams, shouts, shrieks, vociferous incomprehensible verbal babble plus about half a ton of saliva! I caught the odd English word, 'Fucker' was probably the most frequent within the tirade. Presumably, I was some East European equivalent of a 'motherfucker' or similar or worse!

I let her rant on for a couple of minutes to get it all out of her system. It made no difference to me after all, and whatever the little pup said, the same applied to her circumstances. She was the one cowering naked at my booted feet, and I was the one holding her leash!

Eventually, she had to stop for a breather. I was quite impressed. The little bitch could be quite strident. Raven might have some competition when she started barking, yapping and howling for me in the not too distant future.

"Finished," I asked sweetly. No answer required as I used my left foot to shuffle Raven's water bowl across in her direction and picked up her dinner bowl placing it down on the floor near her head, then as an afterthought picked up my discarded riding crop off the kitchen countertop. I was probably going to need it I figured.

"Drink" I ordered hauling tugging her head over in the direction of the bowl. I'd slopped some of the contents when moving it, but there was plenty left. Anyway, once she was trained up a bit, I'd use her obedient tongue to lick those sort of spills up. "Drink" I added again, this time bending to force her head down to the bowl. The more exercise her tongue got in this fashion, the better life would be for me I reasoned.

I think she was caught in two minds - thirst versus the sheer indignantly of being forced to drink like an animal. I wacked her rump hard with the crop to help simplify the choice, and she immediately yelped so delightfully. Sheer music to my ears, the first totally un gagged sound one of my animals had made for me. Delightful, so much so that I gave her another just a teeny bit harder.

She must have been extremely thirsty because she got her cute little snout straight into that bowl without further protest and lapped away for quite some time occasionally pausing to take a breath and to stop her self-choking and spluttering as it got up her nose. Once or twice I gave her a little gentle assistance courtesy of my right boot on the back of her neck, just a mild bit of pressure to remind the creature who owned her!

Once she appeared to have slaked her thirst and lifted her head, water still trickling down her chin, my boot foot nudged her food bowl towards her. I gave the leash a quick tug and gestured towards her dinner with the crop. She didn't seem particularly enthusiastic, so I gave the leash another couple of short, sharp tugs and whacked her ass again, hard!

This time there was substantial resistance to the 'appetising' meal in the bowl before her. Unfortunately for her, I did not have the patience to play games. I just grabbed a handful of her hair and rammed her face down into the mixture, held her for a second or two then released my hold.

She jerked upward spluttering and coughing and yammering something at me. I caught what sounded like a couple of no's but by that time I was repeating the dunking processes at one end and using my crop on the other. Twice more we went through the same routine until she finally bent her head and I heard her slurping the food into her mouth. Once again, I used my right foot to gently press her head down and hold just for a brief second. I was in charge, not her. If I said eat, she ate, period!

This time I would be gentle or rather not too demanding. In future, though I would expect to see a spotlessly licked clean bowl. If I couldn't see my blurred face in the shiny steel bottom, then her puppy muzzle would get rammed straight back in to finish the job plus her arse given a reminder that she must not spurn my kindness.

It was all so cute, pussy tingling cute. Once or twice she sort of choked and raised her pretty head from the bowl to draw a couple of deep rasping breaths. Once she even looked up at me in such a delightfully pathetic way with her dinner smeared all over her features. Oh, my goodness, my sexy little bitch puppy, so so adorable with those big moist eyes, the bits of pasta, chicken and gooey chunks daubed around your mouth. Yes, my pet, look up at me, your Mistress and owner towering so far above you, petite I may be, but you have fallen so low on the scale that you barely register and count for nought!

Somewhat to my surprise by the time she'd clearly had enough, she'd eaten a lot of it possibly as much as two thirds. I mused for a moment as to whether I should make her finish it off but decided against it. The ever-hungry Raven was hovering nearby, and I think she found him unsettling. I wondered if she was thinking of the pictures, I'd shown her but decided probably not. I think it was just an ordinary sort of fear he was a big beast after all and in her present position she was entirely defenceless not to say even smaller almost and certainly at a lower level in more than one way.

Ironic perhaps, she was more afraid I suspected of doggie teeth than hot red doggie cock, but she'd learn that the odd bite would be the least of her problems. However, that little titbit was for the future and for now it was entirely my needs that the little bitch was going to satisfy, and my needs were far more pressing even than Raven's insatiable hunger.

I briefly thought it might be amusing to leave the pups face all soiled then remembered where that face was soon going to be! I didn't want greasy doggie chunky bits depositing all over my pussy, so I quickly wiped her clean with a tatty damp dishcloth. Then leaving the delighted Raven to finish off the remnants of her supper I hauled her reluctant little body over to the staircase and gave her the necessary encouragement to start struggling upwards. My hunger now was not for food, and I didn't give a single thought to my having a quick snack or anything. Beauty was fed, Fluffy was fed, Raven was fed, but my immediate desires were focused on only one significant part of my anatomy, and it wasn't my stomach that was craving attention and satisfaction. The puppy had just lapped up one meal, and now she was going to lap a whole lot more!

If I'd thought progress on the straight and level was slow then our going upstairs was virtually at a standstill. That was partly due to her total inexperience, the enormous difficulty she faced anyway in trying to climb the stairs trussed as she was and my sense of humour. I was in hysterics. I'd dragged her up the first couple of stairs, whacked her ass a few times to get her moving, but it was just so? Well, cute wouldn't even come near to describing it.

It was adorable in such a deliciously hilarious way. The waddle, the struggle, the panicky effort she put in every time I threatened her with the crop. It was so funny, and of course, she couldn't keep it up but eventually rolled over, stubby legs waving helplessly then slid back down to the bottom, bump bump bump.

Incy Wincy spider climbing up the spout

Down came the rain and washed the spider out

Out came the sunshine and dried up all the rain

And Incy Wincy spider climbed up the spout again

Well, she was supposed to be a puppy, not a spider, but the old poem came immediately to mind after our second attempt failed at the fifth stair. Funny as it was, I was also fast losing my patience especially with the other activities I had planned on my mind. Our third attempt was more successful chiefly with me getting my fingers firmly under her waist corset then part lifting and part propelling her upwards aided by her own pathetic efforts. Fortunately, she was not all that heavy, the old staircase not too steep and her stubby little front legs did scrabble for footholds.

I hadn't bothered to put the ball gag back deeming it superfluous for the time being. Once again, I was treated to a somewhat hysterical Eastern European monologue as we progressed slowly towards my bedroom. The puppy was certainly in full voice; well make the most of it little bitch cos very soon all you are going to do is go woof woof and howl...and the howling starts tonight!

Maybe once she got her proper suit, and we'd had a lot more practice at 'walkies', we'd have an improvement. Heck, no need to worry about her escaping if she was left loose. At present speed and agility, it would take her about three weeks to get as far as the nearest public road, and that was assuming, she even made it down the stairs without breaking her damn neck!

I kicked the bedroom door wide open with the toe end of my foot, dragged Fluffy through and slammed it shut with my heel. I was as randy as fuck and nothing, but nothing was going to stop me getting that little bitch's face between my legs, her face into my crotch and her tongue deep inside my lustful cunt. Nothing.

That was the theory, but in practice I had ready realised that there might be one teeny weeny snag. We might have a little attitude situation on our hands first might we not? Well, no problem, the right tools were to hand. I looped her leash over another of those ancient but convenient metal relics sticking out of the wall and retrieved the necessary items from a draw in my dressing table. I could have used the crop I suppose but why when I had plenty of other 'nice' little toys to experiment with.

I selected a nice thin ultra-swishy cane and a thick leather paddle. I held each of them up as I retrieved them making sure she had a good look at the 'toy's we were both going to play with. I flexed the cane once or twice and gave it a couple of swishes. Similar with the paddle all though with that I just smacked it down on my left palm a time or two. Big round frightened eyes from puppy plus a squeak every time it struck my palm.

Actually, I'd done it a fraction too hard because my palm stung a little. Well so much to the good, if those mild swats made my palm tingle, what would a few or more than a few real heavy whacks do to her plump little ass cheeks? A question that I would soon have an answer too.

The urge to plunge my hand down my pants and to start playing with myself was overwhelming, but I resisted. Why pre-empt what was surely not far away? I tensed and relaxed myself a few times. Patience baby, patience.

Having puppy girl down on the floor wasn't as convenient as it might be, I decided as I looked at her nor did I want to have to chase the little bitch all around the bed or the room for that matter regardless of how slowly she moved. I wanted a nice sitting duck of a target once I got going plus there were my other needs to consider. I needed her head and mouth available, and I didn't want to be sliding around on my bed as my wet cunt chased a fleeing mouth!

Not all my collection of fetish toys were out in the stable. I had a few in my drawer over there that I'd experimented with a few times while playing with my little pink vibrator. I found an adjustable spreader bar and a few lengths of special 'bondage ropes'. Don't know what was special about it other than they were bright pink and came in a cellophane package with a photo of a slightly plump blonde demonstrating the contents.

I unhooked Fluffy's leash, kicked her and then dragged her over to the end of my king-sized double bed. One of my first purchase when I moved back. The alternatives were the single bed in my old bedroom or my parents somewhat ancient one. King-sized? Well, to be honest, I'd succumbed to the high-pressure sales chat of a young sales guy with gorgeous eyes at the bed showroom. Couldn't resist his offer to bounce up and down together on it to test it out. I'm a sucker when it comes to buying things anyway, gawd knows how I'd be in North Arica or wherever when it came to haggling. Probably take a 747 to get my souvenirs home!

Ha, if I thought getting her from stable to kitchen and from the kitchen to the bedroom was difficult, then the fight I had to get her up onto the bed trumped both combined. She started yelling again at the top of her voice repeating what was probably a total negative in her own language. Also, she fought the pull of the leash like a tiger plus decided to throw her body from side to side as violently as she could.

I was sorely tempted to pick up that thin cane and let fly, but I'd made my mind up. I didn't want to stand there vainly trying to flay a rapidly moving target. I wanted as I said, a sitting duck but she was pissing me off. No more rubbish about one cheek at a time, she was going to get it full on both barrels!

I think the little bitch had a reasonably good premonition of what the next few hours might involve. Well, you didn't need to be a qualified NASA engineer, did you? I simply grabbed at her and heaved, pushed and heaved a bit more. Given the restrictions on her limbs she did put up a reasonable fight, but the struggle was always going to end one way.

By the time I'd got the leg spreader securely fastened to her upraised ankles I was both sweating and out of breath. I think both of us were the same except I wasn't speaking and making pathetic whining noises. I eyeballed her position on the bed, dragged her a bit further forward then used four of my garishly girlie coloured ropes. Two from the spreader bar to the low mattress retaining rails at the foot of the bed and two more from her upraised wrists to my bed head posts. That should hold her upright and in place with enough leeway to get her head down just where I wanted it.

TIME. Time to begin I thought eagerly. My little chicken was all trussed up and ready for the oven. I just needed to 'cook it' a little and then I could greedily satiate my new found lezzi lusts till I was bloated from the feast! I leaned over to give her head a few casual reassuring strokes which seemed to have the opposite effect very much. Not that I cared about that. I just enjoyed touching my little pet. I was also wondering what my next move was going to be. Did I pick up one of my toys and start to persuade a 'reluctant' tongue to cooperate? Or, should I get myself ready to receive such 'loving' attention first?

I took a moment to arrange my pillows so that I would be comfortably reclined and eyeballed the distance to her predominantly pink ass. Yep, I should reach that nicely with the last six inches or so of the cane when I needed to gee her up once I was in position. Yes, Once I'd turned that pink posterior a vivid shade of red, it would indeed need only a few touches of the cane to ensure eager compliance to worship at my randy honey pot!

My hot wet and eager cunt thus decided it for me. I quickly divested myself of boots, top and under clothing, kicking the pile of discarded cloth into a corner of the bedroom. I stood starkers leering down at little fluffy, my left hand working at my wet slip, the right hand now holding the paddle. I met her horrified gaze and slowly ran my tongue around my kips. I was hungry, and I'm sure she wasn't, but we both knew in that instant which of us would be doing the eating!

"Nie, nie, no, please, I no girls, no girls, boy yes, no girl, nie" she shrieked at me and it was probably the first understandable bit of language that had registered with me. Pity that it would also be one of the last. So, I'd been wrong little Fluffy, and Beauty were not like that after all. Just friends, maybe they came from the same place or school or whatever? Who gives a fuck anyway?

The tingle between my legs got stronger and wetter. OK, so much the better. Much more fun for me if she wasn't an experienced little clit licker after all. We would both learn together, wouldn't we? I wondered for a moment about myself. Had I changed at all? If little Fluffy down there was all dolled up in a sexy negligee, perfumed and in full on warpaint. Would I have the hots for her I wondered?

Somehow, I didn't think so. I genuinely didn't feel those sort of emotions. Yes, I lusted for her tongue, her helpless submission and enforced cooperation, the pain I would inflict upon her but not for her as a woman. I just saw her as a female animal, an animal that I would use for my pleasure whenever the mood took me, not a bedmate. I looked back into those big frightened tearful puppy eyes with not one iota of compassion nor the slightest twinge of guilt in me. I smiled, pouted a kiss at her then walking to the end of the bed, casually fondled her quivering buttocks for a few moments before I raised the leather paddle.

Chapter 13 (added: 2019/08/25)

I paused momentarily outside the old wooden doors before I entered the stable taking a couple of deep breaths to calm myself. This was the moment I had continually fantasised about for months, and I wanted to savour it fully. I contemplated the old wooden doors without even consciously seeing them; my mind was being focused only on the magnificent creature that awaited beyond. I doubted that it would view my return with the same zeal that was already surging through me not that it mattered of course. Yesterday had been but the first small step on her journey from woman to beast, today's trip would be a whole lot more entertaining (for me), and I expected, very painful and considerably demeaning for her.

I wondered as I entered if I should say anything to her. 'A cheery good morning pony, sleep well' or something of a similar ilk? No, I decided. Maybe on other mornings but not today. I didn't want this animal getting any unnecessary 'human' brain stimulation, not today and probably likewise on any other day. To talk meant it would listen and understand and maybe even still feel like a human being. Foolish, that was something my Beauty would never be again, and the sooner she realised that simple fact then-then, the easier it would be for the both of us!

Also, I decided as I clicked on the light switches and crossed over to her stall, it would be less painful for one of us as well in the long run! Ironically it was a resolution I was to break immediately.

She was standing as I approached. Not straight and proudly upright, I noted with sudden disapproval. I hadn't given a thought to any form of morning ritual until now. However, I suddenly found the sight of this splendid animal standing there dejected and slumped like the proverbial sack of potatoes highly irritating. The beast should be pleasing to my eye when I entered, a delight to behold for her mistress and owner, not sagged and drooping like some sad, lifeless carcass!

I made an instant decision. I owned this damn creature; I was its mistress, I controlled it's every move and destiny, l fed and watered it, I harnessed it, stabled it, the fucking animal was mine. The only bloody thing it could do was blink, breathe and suffer under my whip. It couldn't even lay down in the dirt unless I allowed it to! It struck me then and there that my dominion over it was absolute, total, ultimate! Whether it lived or died was now solely up to me and my benevolence, and at that moment, I was not feeling benevolent!

I was angry. Fucking arrogant slovenly creature how dare it, how dare it to present itself to me like that! I strode quickly forward crop at the ready. "Stand up, stand straight you lazy beast" I screamed. I grabbed at her bridle and thrust her head upwards while my crop swung up and down several times the flat leather tip impacting sharply on soft bottom flesh.

The ungrateful beast. Well, I suppose on reflection that this was more than a bit over the top given the circumstances of the situation. Here I was taking care of the animal, feeding, watering and sheltering it and... Ok, ok so I know that was an absurd way for me to be thinking but for a brief moment that is exactly how I felt. Weird I know but I felt that big lazy cow was somehow spoiling my perfect moment!

I delivered three hard strokes to her prominent white rump and handicapped as I was by holding her bridle and the sudden resistance in her they were still pretty meaty. They certainly made her squeal into her loosely fitting ball-gag.

"Attention" I snarled, "stand straight, stand to attention when your owner enters, stand tall, straight, upright animal" I gave her another hard one. "Stand proud damn you!"

Ok so I had immediately broken my talking resolve, but in this case, I could make an exception. The message quickly got across because she suddenly straightened up and I released my hold on the bridle to take a pace backwards shouting "still, stand still pony" waving the crop in front of her face as I did so.

Yes, the message had got across. My evident anger, her complete helplessness plus a few hot spots on her bottom had ensured that. She stood stiff and still panting slightly her eyes flashing with anger, no not anger, rage, yes rage absolute but impotent rage! I tapped her on one thigh with my riding crop.

"Legs together, together now" I emphasised the order by flicking the tip of the crop against her left thigh lightly. "Tight together and stay still. Stand tall, stand straight and still".

I had said it before, and I will say it again. Beauty was a magnificent creature. She was also mine all mine every single enraged bit of her, and despite my order, she was shaking ever so slightly. I didn't mind if anything it showed she was learning her place, learning respect and that was how it should and would be.

I walked around her a couple of times taking care to duck under the chains that secured her in the stall. I was enjoying myself immensely and already aware of the effect all this was having on that critical part of my anatomy that dwelt deep between my legs. Training my very own ponygirl had finally started, and boy was I already on a high. I was reasonably sure that I would be pressing little Fluffy into action long before the evening came around!

She moved her head, trying to follow me as I circled her like some carnivorous predator assessing its terrified prey. That simile probably wasn't too far out given her hopeless situation and my sadistic lust. I tapped her on the nose with the end of the crop.

"No pony, no. Head straight to your front. You don't move your head; you don't move a fucking thing unless I tell you to. NOW LOOK TO YOUR FRONT AND EYES DOWN ANIMAL" I screamed at her and lashed her backside again hard making her squeal and jump. "Keep your eyes down; you look at the dirt because that is all you are now, a fucking dirty beast!"

I stood in front of her to look her full in the face. I had to tilt my head back, yes she was so beautifully statuesque. Just for one fraction of a second, her angry eyes met mine but instantly dropped to stare downwards before I could even raise the crop an inch. I smiled, oh yes we were getting on fine. Training had commenced!

She stood there so tall so perfect and for the moment so subdued. My eyes devoured her. Those oh so long sharply athletic legs, that overgrown bushy clump hiding goodness knows what, the defined waist, strong, broad shoulders and best of all the two generous but not floppy tits that shivered and gently swayed so erotically before my greedy eyes. Those proud thrusting udders that were now mine as much as, indeed more mine than hers now. My fingers itched to touch but not yet. It was not the right moment to start intimately pawing at her. She would react and probably violently!

No, that would be for later when I had her securely fastened down and then the stable cane would quiet her. Quiet her in one way anyway but probably not vocally! I'd be disappointed I thought if it did. Ironic wasn't it? If I accidentally stood on one of Raven's paws and he yelped in pain I'd feel so contrite, yet I knew that I would flog my newly acquired animals without a second thought and what's more, I would enjoy every moment of their suffering!

I continued to look her up and down, savouring my absolute power over her. My how big she was and how much strength was there in those long legs? How much in those arms that I had now rendered useless? Even in her bare feet, she towered over me, and when she got her hoof boots? Yes, what a titanic creature she would be then. Davina and a female Goliath, but the latter had had only death to contend with whereas fate would be far crueller to my giantess!

I reached out and gently probed her hairy snatch with the tip of my crop delighting in the way she flinched, her stomach suddenly being sucked in and she did have a beautiful flat belly on her. Not too much fat to work off around that midriff. She stood her ground though, the presence and threat of the crop enough to keep her stiff and still. Yes, the beast was learning fast.

Beast? Yes, I thought. Beast. Interesting, already I no longer saw or thought of her as a young woman. Strange I reflected, and in such a short time, I'd made that mental adjustment. Was it because of all those intense fantasies I'd had for so many months, so many stories read, and images viewed so that her conversion was just a mere formality in my mind? Was it that I wondered or something much deeper that only some Freudian physio analyst could explain? Did it matter and did I care anyway, no not one teeny weeny little bit!

I wondered what her labia looked like; how would it react to the touch of my crop on it? I pressed a little harder with the crop the leather flap pushing through the tight wire like tangles of hair that covered her mons and bent as it encountered solid flesh. Beauty flinched sharply but remained obediently in place. I jiggled the crop a little delighting in the way she swallowed hard a couple of times and what I could see of her cheeks through her head harness began to change shade, white becoming the blushing red colour of shame.

Her eyes then lifted to catch my gaze. She glared at me in absolute hatred, and there was so much venom in that glance that had it happened in any other circumstance it would have frightened me. As it was, it merely amused and at the same time angered me. Almost without thinking, I took a step backwards, and my crop flashed up and down twice with deliberate aim and force - the end of the implement tip catching first one firm free-swinging breast and then the other.

This time she did move. My how she danced and howled any thought of rebellion I suspected immediately banished as I left my mark on her precious udders. She swung around to present her back to me and to protect herself. The cheek of it disobeying what I had ordered. Well, the crop swung twice more, and two big fleshy white buttock cheeks now also carried my mark and this time I hadn't held anything back.

She spun around mutely yelping and then danced back around again as my crop caught her left tit again. I suppose we could have gone on like that all morning, but there were other things to attend to. There were mundane matters such as shovelling out that wet patch of sawdust where she'd relieved herself at some point and getting some food and water into her. I mused upon the latter. Maybe later she certainly didn't seem to be suffering, and the energy levels were still high. Ultimately, of course, we'd have a daily housekeeping routine, but not yet, not today, not when I so wanted to start playing.

I left her hopping up and down presumably in helpless suppressed rage and pain while I went to prepare for the mornings first training activities. There wouldn't be much traditional ponygirl training done that day it was going to be more about humiliation and punishment for her and pleasure for me. I intended by the end of the day that our respective roles would be firmly established and one of us would know just how painful any form of wilful disobedience could be!

I ran an eye around the stable I looked around the old stable. Hmm, I muttered to myself. All my preparation, all my purchases had been to one end, dressing a ponygirl plus some essential bondage gear and a basic collection of punishment implements. Big pieces of apparatus had never even featured on the shopping list, probably because I never truly believed there would ever be a need for anything.

I'd joined a few online fetish dating sites and the best I'd hoped for was meeting a suitable submissive girl interested in the pony-play scene. Such 'play' as it were would inevitably have been somewhat light and entirely consensual. Now I was faced with the 'problems' albeit a delightful one, of needing to securely fasten a very 'unwilling' ponygirl into a position where I could apply some decidedly 'non-consensual' punishment.

I'd have to go back to my favourite website for the long term. I knew that the company had a section of costly (what else) pieces of dungeon style furniture. I was going to need something that would be readily accessible at all times and easy to quickly fasten the animal in a suitable position whenever I felt the need. I would also leave it in view at all times as a 24/7 reminder, leave it somewhere that she could still see even when in her stall so that the terror of it would be an ever-present threat!

Sheesh, no question about it I was becoming a thoroughly nasty bitch wasn't I? The immediate problem though was what to use for now and probably the next few weeks? Not the sort of thing you could pop out and buy from the nearest Ikea store was it?

My sense of humour abruptly asserted itself, and I suddenly got a brief fit of the giggles. Flat pack whipping benches! I had a quick mental image of me flogging a screaming struggling ponygirl, then the apparatus collapsing as per cheap flat-pack wardrobes and the like are prone to do when under stress! Stop it, I giggled to myself looking back over my shoulder, but Beauty was facing the other way and by the look of it, making strenuous efforts to free herself from that secure arm binding.

That would soon be the least of her worries. I collected myself. No that would not do at all. Apart from the danger that the bitch might get hurt it would hardly do much for my intended image as the sophisticated and aloof owner of the beast! I needed something both substantial and secure.

I did one and then a second circuit of the building's interior looking into all the cluttered corners telling myself off for not hiring a waste skip some time ago and clearing a lot of the rubbish out. I discounted the cheap papering table that I'd use to dress her on, far too flimsy once she started thrashing about in agony! There were a couple of places where I could fasten her erect that I made a note of. Yes, there would be times when I might need to do that, but for now, I wanted her horizontal, not vertical. I wanted her brought low. Low and helpless so that I looked down upon her and not the reverse.

My eagle eye espied the very thing I had in mind. I'd just tentatively moved a broken armchair to reveal several old rolled up lengths of mouldering carpet, and what was that? Was it, no, yes, yes it was I remembered it from yonks ago when I was a kid? I raked out the carpet, noting that all of this was having something of a soiling effect on my pristine wardrobe! A broken standard lamp still crowned with a rotting embroidered shade plus the remnants of a pine bookcase followed before I was able to heave my target free along with a thick cloud of dust, dead insects and other assorted bits of air-born shit!

Once I'd finished a coughing bout and blinked a couple of annoying dust specs out of my eyes I was able to assess what would become one of the few pieces of furniture my ponygirl would ever have the privilege of using. I smiled to myself; somehow, I thought that once it became acquainted with the item, the option of standing in its stall might be much more preferable.

I remembered the piece as I said from years back. Formerly it had belonged to my grandmother, an aged lady whom I could barely remember who'd died when I was about four. I have vague recollections of an old tall red brick terrace house with paint peeling off the outside windows in strips that blew in the breeze like signal flags. Inside always the overpowering smell of mould and damp and rotting vegetation from the many dead or decaying house plants everywhere. Thinking about it, I recalled my grandmother always seemed to smell equally musty and damp as she grudgingly doled out stale ginger biscuits from a rusty tin like some benevolent monarch dispensing alms to the local poor!

My parents apparently called in someone from a local auction house, and they cleared most of the contents, so they told me later. A few pieces they'd retained, and I was looking at one. An old Victorian leather chaise lounge that I recalled had briefly lived in our lounge for a year or two before being consigned to where I had just retrieved it. The brown leather was filthy but didn't appear to have any cracks or cuts. The curved padded back that ran from the high-end two-thirds of the way to the low was loose, okay, I didn't need that. I wriggled it a few times and then wrenched the whole thing away in one piece. Yuk, lots of grey woodlice scuttling away shunning the bright light. I shuddered; I hate insects, but then I wasn't going to be the one strapped to it so not my problem!

A lot of the buttons were missing that formed the padded sections, but that was irrelevant. I gave it a thorough shaking. Probably riddled with woodworm and some rot but for now, it appeared sturdy enough. Well, I would soon find out wouldn't I once Beauty started to thrash around. Not the most elegant of objects especially now I'd ripped the backrest off, but it should suffice in the short term.

I looked down at myself. My clothing was filthy, and I suspected my face wouldn't be much different - not much point in getting changed though before I was finished. I dragged the piece over to my wet area and spent ten minutes hosing and scrubbing the damn thing down. I supposed any reputable furniture restorer would have been horrified at my callous treatment, but I didn't care. As long as it lasted a couple of weeks that would be good enough and by the time something more appropriate arrived I expected Beauty would have become a good deal more docile. Biddable? Unlikely but we would both have found out much more about the extent of my cruelty. However, I suspected that my boundary might lie further away than I could foresee at the moment!

The old wood was far harder than I'd expected. Oak, Ebony, Teak? Who could tell under aeons of thick varnish? Armed with a screwdriver, some large brass wood screws and a selection of straps from my bondage equipment draw I was busily adding restraints in suitable locations. I had to break off and fetch my rechargeable hand drill from the house; otherwise, it would have taken me half the day. Anyway, if a job is worth doing its worth doing well, (it also takes a lot bloody longer of course!), I grumbled to myself casting a glance towards Beauties stall. Hope the bitch appreciates all this, well on second thoughts I'm sure she won't! At least she isn't likely to come loose halfway through a good flogging and damage herself on the floor or something similar. Fuck why do brass screw heads always bush so darned easily!

It was roughly two hours, or so later and I was back for round two. Once again, I was the pristine sweet-smelling little pony owning madam. The jodhpurs had been replaced by a new pair of skin-tight two-tone red and purple riding pants and the top a thin white sleeveless clingy ribbed sweater. Freshly showered, scented, newly garbed and impatient for some serious action. Boots, gloves and of course my crop as before. I was beginning to regard that particular crop as my 'badge of office'.

It was time I thought for some basic obedience training for my animal. Um, well perhaps training was the wrong term, it wouldn't be doing any elegant dressage style high stepping at the end of the lunge line or the like. This was all going to be about imprinting my absolute 24/7 authority on the beast's mind, and I'd do that by embossing various parts of her anatomy with painful livid raised wheals and bleeding welts!

That suddenly reminded me of something else. Embossing. Raised weal's, branding irons. In almost every harsh ponygirl story I'd ever read the unfortunate creatures were branded with their owner's personal mark at some point. I fully intended to do likewise, once I'd figured out just how to do it of course, where to get a suitable iron and what my mark should look like?

I giggled aloud causing Beauty to stop shuffling nervously in her stall and stare with big round eyes at me, which of course made me giggle even more. I'd just wondered how many hits 'pony girl branding' received on Google which started me off and then the way she was looking at me. Oh, if only she knew. Well, I reflected collecting myself, the animal would understand at some point wouldn't it and certainly would not like to. I shuddered a little myself at the thought of it, but the moment immediately passed as that permanently damp part of my anatomy sent a delicious spasm surging through me. Any doubts I might have harboured went south if the border at that point.

It did, however, bring up another point, one that had crossed my mind as I was showering the first time that day and thinking of what I'd already done to little Fluffy. First aid! In all the books and stories, the ponies and other unfortunates stoically absorbed a considerable degree of physical punishment yet were invariably ready the next day to provide tempting fleshy targets for their owners' nasty toys. Their miraculous recovery rates would probably astound the average physician I'd often thought.

Unfortunately, both for me and my animals we lived in a world of 'animal reality' and my medical knowledge was somewhat lacking the meagre contents of my medical cupboard likewise. I was going to have to learn and learn quickly about their capacity to absorb and recover from chastisement and about the effects of all my evil little toys on human.... Correction, on animal flesh!

While the learning process would undoubtedly be a lot of fun for me a certain modicum of care needed to be taken, I must not get carried away as I had done last night, or I would soon have an empty stall and kennel - a sobering thought. Likewise, I'd better do a bit of medical research on the Internet about bruises and the like plus do a bit of urgent shopping at the big pharmacy in town.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Beauty was still watching me and no doubt wondering why my face was screwed up in a pose of thoughtful contemplation. I doubt she'd have appreciated what I was thinking about. The rigorous application of painful damage and then the repair so as to allow the cycle to be repeated ad infinitum!

Later I decided, worry about such things later. The creature wasn't going to keel over on me after just one or even two 'attitude adjustment' sessions was it unless she had a weak heart or something similar. If so then nothing I was contemplating in the 'aftercare' department would be of use anyway!

Experiment, I thought. I knew that I bruised easily, would this animal I wondered? I'd never had much interest in science, biology and the like but it would be interesting to see how that big animal's tender white hide reacted to my painful toys, how quickly it recovered and would such treatment over time actually toughen it? Again, from the books and stories I'd read that element of 'toughening over a prolonged period had cropped up. We'll see I thought, we'll see.

I dragged the makeshift whipping bench into the centre of the stable where Beauty could easily see it. Most of my DIY modifications had been done over on the far side and out of her line of sight. I gave it another vigorous shake. Yes, all seemed in order, firm enough, and the old leather had dried off. I pushed down against the padded seat with my hand. Heck, the bitch should be thankful there was some give in it, much more comfortable for her than being strapped down on some rock-hard solid surface!

The dumb animal was still watching me, no doubt wondering what I was up to and would it involve her? Stupid creature, of course, it would involve her! Everything that happened in this stable would affect her one way or another, wouldn't it? I collected my riding crop, gave her a long hard contemptuous look then raised it and brought it down in a couple of hard strikes against the padded leather surface. I saw and relished the look of alarm in her eyes and the way she abruptly flinched back almost stumbling.

The sound of leather on leather was quite delicious, and I wondered what the sound of leather repeatedly striking quivering pony hide would be like? No matter, equally delightful to my ears and much more entertaining I surmised and of course, I about to find out.

Premonition I thought. She was making plaintive noises again as I entered her stall, and I could even make out some of the words. Help, please, no and I am pretty sure 'bitch' also featured more than once from behind her loose gag as she quickly backed herself as far up against the stable wall as she could go. Maybe premonition was the wrong term as she must have divined my intentions, alarm and fright would probably more accurate. Well, didn't all sorts of animals have that sort of intuitive sixth sense when danger threatened?

That's a solid stone wall behind you pony so don't think you can fade away right through it I thought. Why do they always do that? Puppy girl had tried to same with my bedroom wall! That is as far as you can go and we both know it and now is the time when you learn that saying aloud 'no or bitch' or any other word to your owner is not a good idea. Not a good idea at all even if I can hardly make it out!

I unlocked the two chains that secured her in the stall then hooked my fingers into her bridle and walked her out and over toward my latest improvisation. Surprisingly she offered little resistance probably because I had the riding crop waving menacingly in my other hand and she'd already had a taster of that. Next time I thought with some amusement, next time I do this I doubt she will be anything like as acquiescent, not once she knows what this bench is for!

I steered her around to the raised end. The other with no back was far too low. This end, I could use either way. Bent one way her big rump would be raised high just begging for my whip. The other way I could lay her length ways face up and hook her legs over at the knees if I wanted to work on her tits or cunt!

We stalled a couple of yards out when she caught sight of the straps I'd recently attached all undone and laid out awaiting the next or in this case, first victim. All strapped up and hobbled as she was, she still had some strength in her the unruly creature. I almost thought for a moment that she was going to get the better of me, which of course would be unthinkable! However, her restrictions plus my crop, some frantic tugging and a couple of heavy kicks from my boots and she was hard up against the end where I wanted.

I quickly bent and secured her lower legs to the bench with one strap then grabbed her bridle again and yanked her forward and down. She tried to straighten up again as she once again started shouting semi-incomprehensible words, some in English and some in a foreign language. I reached for a length of cord with a metal hook threaded on it laying at the low end, snagged the hook onto one of her bridle straps then hauled in on the loose end of the cord.

Beauty had no choice but to lower her head as I hauled in the slack until she was literally 'kissing' the musty smelling tarnished old brown leather. I quickly looped the cord around a bit of spare wood I'd screwed on one stumpy wooden leg to use as a makeshift cleat. I had all the time in the world then to experiment with my straps and securely fasten the struggling creature in place tugging the leather as hard as I could through the roller buckles so that her skin bulged either side of the straps as I immobilised her.

I slackened the hobble chain and removed the strap on her lower legs and replaced it with the two small ones I had affixed to each of the corners. Now her legs were spread apart quite nicely, not a huge amount but enough for me to grab a good handful of helpless pony pussy if I felt the urge and I was positive that I would at some stage.

To be on the safe side, I double checked all the restraints. Not that it was all that necessary, even if she could have freed herself from that bench, she was still not in a position to go anywhere or worse perhaps, attack me. Not with her arms tightly bound behind her back and a hobble chain on. Still, I'd decided that my approach at all times would be very much a belt and braces one. No point in getting into bad or lazy habits when the security of the animals was at stake and more importantly, my own safety.

I took a step or two back to admire my handiwork and savour the big creatures total and absolute helpless state. There she lay tightly stretched over my makeshift whipping bench, legs spread and held tight, arms incapacitated, and her big arse raised high and quivering ever so slightly before my delighted gaze. I spasmed and shuddered for a couple of seconds and had to hold myself ridged to stop myself cuming there and then just from looking at her.

Looking at her. Looking down at her. Looking at my very own big strong beautiful Ponygirl and oh so delightfully vulnerable and we both knew it! Had someone offered me a million, no a billion-pound win on the lottery instead of that moment, there would be only one answer I would give, could possibly give.

I sauntered around to the front. I walked slow, deliberately crunching the toes of my boots into the dirt floor to make a crunching sound. Her head twisted around to look up at me her chin running with rivulets of drool, so cute. Her eyes met mine. Hers upward looking from that lowly submissive position, mine on high looking coldly down at my possession. What did she read in mine, and what did I read in hers?

Lust, lust and fear. Fear and contempt! I saw fear and maybe a touch of contempt in hers. Fear but fear of the unknown I suspected rather than fear of me. I was the contempt element. That would change, I would change it. I would replace that fear with terror, absolute terror and it would be of me and a few of my well-chosen toys of course! Contempt? No animal, I do not think that will last even till the end of the next hour.

The lust was mine, and it wasn't lust for her magnificent body at least not in the way some dyke might have salivated over her various physical attributes. My lust was that of the sadist, the purveyor of pain and misery, the suffering, humiliation and enforced dehumanisation of a once free spirit now to be forever shackled and in permanent thraldom to my will. Ultimately to become nothing but a dumb beast to suffer under my whip for my delight and entertainment

I sneered contemptuously and pulled my thin black leather wrist gloves from my waistband conscious that she was watching as I slowly eased them over one hand and then the other stretching the expensive leather the length of my fingers, flexing them in anticipation. It felt good; they were not lined, I wondered what a pair of leggings or a full catsuit made to measure would feel like against naked skin. I'd never been into the 'leather/rubber mistress' fetish, but maybe there was something in this second skin fitting kink after all?

Her eyes followed me again as my hand dropped to the riding crop hanging from my belt, and I saw them widen. I wondered if she could see the paperclip. Probably not. Once again I'd improvised, I felt that I should carry the crop with me at all times, my queenly sceptre or official badge of office, the visible symbol of my omnipotence. The implement in question dangled via its wrist loop from a large paperclip I'd twisted into a convenient belt hook. Incongruous but practical!

I briefly glanced down at her, caught her eye again briefly then ignored her. I ran my hands along her armbinder checking everything was still tight and tweaking a couple of straps a little tighter. One hand slipped underneath her and explored her waist corset fingers sliding between leather and skin, ignoring the odd squeak she emitted. Maybe in a week or so, I'd take it in a notch or two, but for now, I was satisfied with the fit.

Her bridle also needed a few minor adjustments as did her gag. I'd left the latter relatively loose overnight, and so now I faced a decision, in or out? Should I replace it with one of my 'bits' that would in time become almost a permanent feature of the animal's life? How much noise would she make when I started to beat her, I wondered and how far would it carry? Last night on reflection, little Fluffy had done some serious shrieking. I was a long way from my nearest neighbour and a fair distance from the road. Still?

Fuck it, I thought. Raven was running loose in the yard and even if he'd got bored and gone back in the back door was open. He'd soon be out, and I'd hear him barking I suspected if anyone approached, even if this creature was advertising its pain and misery to the world at large on full volume. The noise would be half the fun for me; otherwise, I might as well hang a dusty old rug over the washing line and beat the hell out of that.

The beast would talk of course, but that wouldn't be much of a distraction, and it had to learn, didn't it? I'd been thinking about that trying to decide what was the best way to get the 'basic rules' across. Yes, the whip, crop and cane would teach and enforce the necessary lessons but how to communicate the subject matter to the creature?

Technically it ought to be far easier than say training a dog. A dog learned by reward, punishment and repetition. Repetition of both command and task. The human animal had a far more capable brain so there should be no problem serendipity, but that would mean talking to the animal, communicating with its understanding. Would that be out of character or detract from the dehumanisation process?

I walked back to her upraised rear end and absently ran a gloved palm over her right buttock. It felt good, and I realised what I was doing. I also made my mind up. Simple. Just as with a dog or any other animal you trained, I would give commands, simple commands and adopt the same reward, punishment and repetition. Communication would be a one-way process. My ears would be deaf to any noise from the animal bar screams. If it wanted to waste its breath, so what, it would soon learn how ineffective that would be.

Mmmm, that big ass did feel good. I started to run both palms over enjoying the feel of smooth helpless pony flesh, all mine to fondle and squeeze and squeeze I did. I squeezed, and she squealed. Yup, that's how I would play it, I decided. If the odd other thing slipped out, if I said something rather than a command, we'll it happened with other animals, didn't it? OK, so this one would understand but so what.

I'd half considered having a list of simple rules written on a board in her stall, but then that really would be silly wouldn't it. That would be pandering to the creature's humanity, and I was determined to avoid that. This animal would be forever denied that form of mental stimulant. In future, if it saw the slogan on a discarded plastic bag while we were out, she could consider that the intellectual highlight of her day, or even week!

My hand continued to roam, moving to her flanks. Mmmm, so smooth and yet so muscled, yes this beast was so, so very perfect for all I had in mind. My fingers strayed a little further down to her hairy mons. "Still", I shouted as the wretched creature bucked and tried to protest. I abruptly withdrew my hand and used it to deliver three stinging slaps to her right rump. I know they stung her because my palm certainly felt them, and she jumped about in her restraints, making those delightful muted protests.

Time, I thought to myself. Time to show this animal just who was boss. Time to make my mark, literally. Time to dispel any silly notions the silly creature might still have about its present situation. I walked over and opened one of my wall cupboards. I paused to dwell on the contents. A delicious array of painful eye candy but I already knew which of those wicked 'toy's' I would be using. Indeed, I had purchased three of them with just such prolonged and frequent usage in mind.

Hmm. I looked over my shoulder. I must remember to position the bench so that it can see where I am standing and thereby all the fun items I have stored in these cupboards for both of us to play with. I selected one of my three nominated stable canes, and a thick leather covered paddle. Not so much 'cut and thrust' I thought as 'wham bam and followed by swish and cut'.

Oh, the look in her eyes when I walked back to her with my two toys. Now that was the sort of look guaranteed to send shivers of delight rippling through me. Oh my, oh yes. I ran my left wrist through the loop in the paddles handle and took hold of the tip of my medium thick bamboo cane. Oh my god, I almost orgasmed on the spot as I stood there flexing my cane and looking down into my lowly creatures terrified eyes. OH, MY FUCKING GOD!


Chapter 14 (added: 2019/11/08)

Time had passed quickly as it always does when you are having fun. Well for me it had, but I imagined that the last couple of hours would have seemed like an eternity to my captive pony and 'fun' was certainly not how she would have described it. Not unless she was an out and out pain-loving masochist. If so, then her attempts to hide the trait behind torrent after torrent of high-pitched agonised screams and shrieks until she had neither strength nor breath for more had been very convincing! I had sensibly decided that enough was enough at that point and anyway, my arm was beginning to ache a little.

Yup caffeine time I'd decided after checking the now still form. Good, she was still breathing if a little raggedy. No real harm done other than maybe the stress her frantic efforts to escape my restraints had put on her various muscles. I made a mental note to bring some antiseptic cream with me when I returned. Her wrists were looking raw and bleeding a little where she'd twisted and rubbed hard against the restraining straps as she thrashed about in her agony. Perhaps I should get some leather straps with a thin layer of padding on the inside. I'd seen them but dismissed them, too wimpy I'd thought, only for casual play, not the real thing. Logically, of course, the opposite applied now I came to think about it. How many people got brutally flogged into screaming insensibility during a mild consensual bedroom bdsm session?

I double-checked the other straps at ankles, knees and waist. They all seemed ok. Maybe a little raw skin where she'd writhed and twisted but nothing too serious, unlike the wrist ones. The real damage, of course, was the major havoc I'd wrought on her meaty rump and thighs. Yes, I'd overdone it again just as I had the night before with little Fluffy. Beginners enthusiasm I suppose. In time I was sure that I would learn how to inflict the same(or greater) amount of pain with considerably less damage. Moderation I thought. I could hear my mother's voice with that piece of advice - moderation in all things dear.

I wondered what she'd think if she could see what I was looking at now. The grin that was forming on my lips quickly faded as another thought came to me. Shit! Now I was a little annoyed with myself as I surveyed the still silent form of my completely comatose pony. I'd intended to spend most of the day instilling the first of many obedience lessons into the creature, but of course, I'd stupidly let myself get carried away hadn't I? Probably as well that she had fainted on me for the third time. I should have come to my senses on the first occasion. Shit, shit and double shit!

On the first two occasions, I'd brought her round with some splashes of cold water and a few hand taps to the side of the face as I impatiently went about the tedious business of reviving her and wondering if it was still possible to get hold of smelling salts these days or something similar. At that stage I hadn't even wrought all that much damage. Well not too much compared to what I now surveyed.

I'd started relatively softly with my paddle and given her rump a comprehensive all over warm-up that grew in intensity and force as I became more practised and more sadistic. The latter being driven in part by the volume and intensity of her shrieks of pain and outrage! Once again I'd quickly forgotten my original intent of concentrating everything on to one buttock and leaving the other pristine. Hah, way too much tempting soft white flesh, a large tender quivering blank canvas that so attracted my increasingly painful 'brush' strokes to colour every square inch of it.

Of course, I'd removed her ball-gag before I commenced the better to hear her squeal and then scream. Not that the creature had been the least bit grateful for my kindness. A minor amount of spittle accompanied a torrent of vocal noise emerged the moment that bit of hard plastic was removed and immediately rose in volume despite the warnings she'd been given. Wow, in between the cough and gasps that filly certainly had a very impressive vocabulary when it came to the coarser aspects of the English language and no doubt her own by the sound of some of them although I was already mentally filtering much of it out. Just meaningless animal noise so far as I was concerned and irritating animal noise at that.

I suppose that I'm a bit of a hypocrite, I tend to swear maybe more than I should but usually only to myself. It always bugs me when I hear others using such words, especially in the course of their normal conversation rather than for a specific reason! Why oh why can't some people string a couple of sentences together without using the word 'fuck' a half dozen or more times? Cretins! Well on this occasion I had both the means to hand and the will to put a stop to her foul-mouthed tirade. Time for my pony to sing to a different tune, one that I would both compose and conduct via my special batons!

I leaned forward and slapped the paddle hard against the side of my makeshift flogging bench near her head and grabbed a handful of hair with my other. My action momentarily halted her, and I twisted her head around and leaned nearer. She with her big blue sad, weepy wet eyes already red and sore looking. Mouth agape in a mixture of horror, pain, anger and surprise. Her lips and chin glistening with saliva. Me with a savage merciless glint in my eyes, and cruel anticipatory smile of sadistic delight on my lips.

Just for that brief second as our eyes met, I think that the full horror her situation began to register for the first time. I don't know what she imagined the past day or so had been for but at that instant as I twisted her head around I knew that the first truly major milestone in our journey together had just been passed. The one marked total, absolute and complete realisation!

I gave her no chance to follow up. The leather loop at the end of the paddle's handle was around my right wrist, I loosed my hold of the implement and swiftly used my gloved palm to force her mouth closed before that foul verbal flow recommenced.

"Shut it, pony" I snarled. "No don't you dare try and move. Stay, stay still you fuc...you...you wretched animal" Almost committed the same sin myself there I admonished myself.

I used both hands in a slight twisting motion so that she was silenced and looking at my face mere inches from her own. Just for a second an image of our two contrasting positions flickered across my mind. There was no doubt as to which was the more preferential one of course.

"Listen to me animal" I snarled slowly and gave her captive head another little twist. She tried to say something but couldn't, not with me holding her jaw clamped tightly closed. "Shut it and keep it shut. I know you understand English animal, but you can forget about speaking it or anything else from now on! Last night I amused myself with your pretty little friend. You know what I did to her animal?"

"No, you don't do you," I said with a degree of amusement. " I turned her into a dog. That's right animal you heard correct, a dog, a bitch dog! Your friend is now nothing more than a pretty little puppy dog bitch all trussed up and crawling around on her elbows and knees for my entertainment, my amusement and my sexual satisfaction! How does that grab you Ponygirl"?

Another slight twist and I tightened my grip. "Yes, a dog, a sweet little puppy dog with a nice wet pink tongue and guess what she spent half the night doing with it between my legs? Licking and guess where? ! Yeah, got it in one pony but don't look so revolted...it was either that or get another hard beating. Didn't you hear her screaming, I'd have thought with all the noise she made you would have heard the little bitch even over here?"

"You probably didn't hear the other noises either. She wanted so much to talk just like you, but my nasty little toys soon taught her otherwise. Oh, she still makes noises but a little differently" I broke off to giggle. "She now barks and whines and growls for me so prettily." I laughed. "I was surprised, amazed even at how fast she learned once my bamboo cane went to work on her pretty little puppy rump pumpy"

That was true. I had been genuinely surprised that it hadn't taken all that long. Every time she started, I had put a finger to my lips, shushed her, shook my head and then let my cane do the rest. After each beating, I pointed the cane at her and then demeaned myself by making a variety of doggie noises. I whined, growled, yapped and barked then gestured at her with the cane again indicating at whom the lesson was aimed.

Inevitably she immediately started to babble away in that unknown tongue, but I simply repeated the routine. It took four goes, but the last time I pointed my simple wooden item of torment at her she paused for a moment and then rather hesitatingly began to mimic me. I'd smiled at her, bent down to rub her head and plant a big wet kiss on her forehead and moved to the bed. It had been time for the next lesson to begin.

"Not that is quite so pretty now with all the nasty bruises and bloody welts, but she certainly learned fast how to stop me hurting her." I paused thoughtfully. Not quite correct. Nothing could have stopped me hurting her but when I finally did cease she had indeed demonstrated less reluctance than I'd anticipated when I eventually dragged her head between my legs. The fact that I still held a whippy cane in my right hand might also have contributed to her sudden acquiescence to the distasteful (for her) task. I required.

"Of course," I added, "I expect that I will have to repeat the lesson numerous times in the days, weeks and months to come....yes months you heard right. Oh, do stop twitching you stupid creature, you must realise that neither of you is going anywhere soon. Did I say months, correction let us make it years animal"?

"Yes, your sexy little friend, now called Fluffy, by the way, is up in my bedroom nursing a very sore bottom, one that resembles a map of the Alps with all those pretty purple and scarlet raised ridges" I giggled and then raised my voice. "That was just for practice though pony. By the time I'm finished here today your animal backside will look like the FUCKING HIMALAYAN MOUNTAIN CHAIN' I shrieked in her ear.

A scrap of torn paper caught my eye, and another idea occurred to me. Should I again? Why not, after all we had plenty of time, and a little additional mental cruelty would make a fitting hors d'oeuvres before I served up the main course. I nipped her nose ignoring the squeak and spluttering and promptly popped the red ball gag back in and tightened the strap. "Back in a minute pony don't go away will you" I giggled patting her on the head as I released my hold.

I was back a moment later with the printed pictures I had shown her previously salvaged from where I'd carelessly screwed them up and dumped them in my wet area. Fortunately, despite a few rents from my crop they were still useable, so I smoothed them out, selected a couple and carefully placed one on the floor immediately under her just as I had done the first time. I grabbed her head again, twisting my hand in her hair and forced her to look straight down. She was already doing that anyway, but I wanted to make sure she knew one hundred per cent who was in charge here and just how helpless she was. I wanted her to feel the hand of her owner and understand fully the power I had over her. Plus, I wanted to enjoy the physical sensation when she reacted to this little reminder as I knew she would.

Was she all that bright I thought thinking back to the books I'd burned so indifferently? Medicine, mathematics? Hadn't the pictures I'd shown her before fully registered, the way I'd bound her, the way I'd treated her, the primitive stall she'd been kept in overnight. Christ, she couldn't be that thick surely? Did she really think that there was going to be some sort of easy exit from her situation, that vile and evil things would not happen to her?

Maybe it was some phycological thing. Maybe her brain had gone into a form of shock and switched off her ability to think logically. Perhaps it was even being ultra-clever and had headed the full realisation of what was happening to her 'off at the pass' so to speak. Alternatively, maybe the bitch was just too damn stupid to recognise what was happening to her outright! Ostrich syndrome, stick your head in the sand and it wouldn't, couldn't be happening even? Well whatever, it was time for a reminder that it was and would!

Happening it most certainly was. I'd used picture three again, the one drawing depicting a helpless ponygirl being exercised out of doors. Arms in a binder, large naked breasts bouncing, bitted, bridled, hoof boots raised high, eyes wide with horror as she pranced at the behest of the tiny girl dressed cowboy fashion holding the lunge line in one hand and a long, cruel whip in the other leaving vivid angry streaks on her ponies' body.

Picture six quickly followed, the one depicting the same young cowgirl mounted and riding her pony. The image bore the large label 'Broken'. A running ponygirl in a bent forward pose, her young rider sitting comfortably on a saddle partway up the pony's back reins negligently held in one hand, the other naturally wielding a long riding crop. The movement lines the artist had drawn, and the marks on the pony's flanks showed that although 'broken' the pony was not being spared additional physical encouragement by her sadistic young rider.

My grip on her hair tightened. "Look, look long and hard my ponygirl" I hissed in her ear so close that my lips almost touched. "Look good and think about me. I am hardly any bigger than that nasty little cowgirl and you, you I think are much bigger and stronger than that wretched pony!"

I pulled her head back, held it for a second and then abruptly released my grip so that caught out unexpectedly, it fell forward so quickly that she would have banged down hard on her chin had it not overlapped the edge of my bench. I took a couple of paces to one side and ran my gloved hands over her rump and down her thighs then back up. I repeated the action several times, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin leather of my gloves and relishing each and every tremor that ran through her. Cold, fear, nervous reaction? Probably a combination of all three.

"Yes, pony" I cooed resuming my previous place. "Quite a bit bigger and stronger I think. Much better formed to carry a saddle high up on here, oh and of course to feel the bite of my crop" I laughed and bend down to whisper in her ear again.

"Oh yes my beauty, oh by the way that is your name from now on pony. Beauty. My Beauty my big strong, beautiful ponygirl. That is what you are now - my pony. You will live in that stall, wear this harness, eat the mush I feed you, feel the regular bite of my whip and spend your boring days perhaps dreaming endlessly of what might have been".

I paused to stroke her head gently for a few moments before continuing. "But don't worry Beauty I'll take good care of you and it won't always be boring, you can look forward to the times when I put a saddle on you and take you out for a gallop" I laughed and patted her head.

She was writhing now against her bonds as best she could. Wriggling and squirming or trying to and her eyes were staring down at the picture with, or maybe it was my imagination, but they did have a slightly bulbous look. However, there was no mistaking the sheer horror and panic now. I giggled again; I thought it was actually quite funny.

I took a couple of seconds to ponder and wondered if I should continue my thread. Mmmm, might make life a tad easier I decided. Anyway, she was still part human, wasn't she? Well, for a few more hours or so. Once I released her beaten body from the bench though she would be pure animal in my eyes and treated accordingly. Heaven help her if she tried to get 'gobby' with me after that I decided with a grim resolve.

I placed the third and last picture I had selected on top of the other two. My crop had certainly wrought the most damage to that one as it had been on top; nevertheless, there remained enough for her to get a clear picture. A clear description of her most immediate future via a rumpled torn image I giggled silently to myself and pointed downwards with one finger and tapped her rump a couple of times with its equivalent on my left hand.

This was the drawing of a ponygirl being severely flogged by yet other another diminutive owner. The helpless creature was well covered in nasty stripes with head back and mouth agape obviously screaming for all she was worth. That expression on the face of the young fiend doing the flogging showed that she was enjoying herself and showing not an ounce of mercy. Ditto I thought!

My head moved down and close to hers again. "Now then my Beauty, just as that picture in a few minutes I will begin to train you. It will be the first of many such training sessions you will receive. None of them will be enjoyable for you because they will involve pain, a lot of pain, pain and humiliation. I expect that over time you will get used to the humiliation but probably not the pain. How much and how often will be up to you. I won't enjoy beating you of course (I lied) but it will be necessary, an essential part of your journey from girl to pony. Human to animal. My pony animal!"

I flipped my wrist and caught the paddle by its wooden handle and reached back to collect my whippy bamboo cane from where I'd hung it. "These, "I told her looking down as she twisted her head to look up at me. "these simple objects will be two of the tools I will use to apply pain to your body. I have others, lots I might add." I took the business end of the cane in my spare hand and flexed it a few times just for effect.

Poser I thought. Beauty evidently thought otherwise. Her eyes fastened on the flexing cane and then dropped to briefly look again at the picture and then back toward me this time to my face. I smiled at the look I saw in her eyes. Yes, my beautiful animal, I like that look of terror, and I expect to see it again and again and again! I tapped her on the nose with the tip of the cane then bent my head close to hers once more.

"Listen up, animal". I blew softly in her ear before whispering, "Listen good. Your little friend is next door chained to a radiator in my bedroom waiting for me. In my eyes, she is now nothing but a dog a cute little puppy anxiously awaiting her mistress's return so that she can pleasure her mistress as required and hoping against hope I expect to avoid another beating from me! To me she is no longer human; she is an animal, a dog, a puppy that I one hundred per cent own and will use for my pleasure. Understand?" I tapped her again and smiled. "If little Fluffy up there makes so much as one single 'human-like' sound when she sees me, just one word, one single vowel I'll beat the crap out of her and now she realises that. She can bark, she can yelp whine, growl and whatever else her fellow four-legged canine equivalents do...but if she makes just one damn non doggie sound she'll be screaming half the night again that I promise!"

I paused for a moment before resuming. Once again her nose felt the tip tap of my cane. "You my fine Beauty" I continued are no different in my eyes. You are also an animal, a simple mindless dumb beast and the quicker you realise that and learn to behave, the better for both of us but more so for you. In a moment the pain will start, perhaps you can distract yourself a little by preparing yourself, think about your new vocabulary, think hard about the sounds horses and ponies make. Can you do similar, I hope so for your sake! Learn a new vocabulary Beauty, use your imagination, who knows maybe you will still be able to communicate with me...albeit in a very simple way" I finished with a laugh.

It was true her eyes were bulging. Horror, shock, disbelief and a hundred and more other panicked emotions I surmised. I couldn't resist embellishing just like some vindictive high court judge of old not only sentencing some poor felon to a long stretch but maliciously adding and emphasising 'ultra-hard labour' to his miserable lot.

"Take a look around Beauty," I told her. "You have had lots of time now to do so, and I assure you that there will be endless opportunities for more" I paused to laugh again. "Heck, I'll bet in ten years you will have counted every brick in this stable a thousand times over just to try and stay sane. In a year or two I expect you will be chomping at the bit, literally," I laughed. "Oh, so excited when I enter this building just in case an outing is in the offing. The thought of a ride out with your owner on your back, a change from the endless monotony of your stall, a welcome whiff of fresh scented air after the stink of this place. I bet it will seem, better than, than what? Better perhaps by far than the deepest most intense and satisfying sexual orgasm the most experienced of lovers could ever give to you!"

I tapped again to ensure I had her full attention. Silly, not much else I suppose that would occupy her at that particular moment. Probably not the best analogy I could have come up with but relevant. Very relevant.

"Don't get too excited pony" I cautioned negligently. "You can also forget any future action along those particular lines. You know I don't even know if you are a virgin or not do I? I haven't explored you deep enough, but don't worry; it does not matter because from now on your pony cunt is an orgasm free zone. Oh, I am sure you will get randy from time to time especially if it amuses me but don't expect any release, ever! "

I looked at my wristwatch. Time was marching on. A cruel part of me wanted to carry on and enjoy the mental torture I was inflicting. Yes, she had a good understanding of English. I could see it in her eyes, I had been speaking slowly and clearly almost as though I was reading the evening news on the radio or TV. My subject matter though had been very different, and the news imparted was solely for the benefit of one pair of ears. However, another even crueller part lusted after a more direct form of torment and that part was getting impatient! Another part of my anatomy was also adding its quota, and I didn't want to have to go and change a pair of sopping wet panties before we'd even got started.

I flicked the top of her head lightly with my cane. "Alright pony enough of this jaw-jaw, time for some action, time for lesson numero uno. Today's lesson, Mmmm lets call it an introduction to basic pony etiquette, and we start with two elementary rules. Rule number one. This will be the last time I or probably anyone else talks to you like this. You are not human anymore, not to me and in the unlikely event of my ever allowing someone else to see you, not to them either. You are an animal. A beautiful two-legged animal but just an animal and nothing more!"

"A dumb animal", I tapped the tip of my cane on the ball gag then slid it upwards to lightly lift her upper lip and then back down to repeat the action with the lower. "Animals don't talk pony, so if anything, that sounds like human speech should emerge from between these today or at any other time you will feel the touch of this simple thin piece of wood across your fat animal rump many many times, and I can assure you...the touch will not be pleasant! Think about that when I remove your gag. Today is not going to be very pleasant for you at all anyway but piss me off from the start, and it will get infinitely worse believe me"

I moved back towards her rear. "Rule Two. Like I said no more chit chat ponygirl. Orders will be given, and orders will be obeyed. Mostly simple one-word orders, I command, and you obey, instantly if you know what is good for you. It will take time I'm sure, but you will learn pony. Oh yes, my pony you will learn, and we have all the time in the world to devote to your education!"

She gave a loud anguished yelp easily discernible through her loosened gag as I abruptly delivered what I considered to be two reasonably hard strokes of the cane swiftly across both ass cheeks. "I can't stop you thinking pony; indeed, I wouldn't want to, but I can and will render you dumb like the beast you are now".

She turned her head, desperately attempting to say something to me. I made out the odd word and merely sighed. Oh well, I'd given her fair warning hadn't I?" I gave her a third stroke then tossed the cane on top of the pictures on the floor below her face, more food for thought. I flipped the buckle at the back of her neck and removed the gag altogether dropping it to lay alongside the cane.

Of course, the silly creature immediately screamed blue murder and then started to talk! My ears were deaf to it. I flicked my wrist and caught the paddles handle and moved back to my 'work area'. The three stripes left by the cane were readily visible, the last one already oozing tiny droplets of blood through the raised weal in several places. I choose the nearest buttock cheek now feeling somewhat peeved. "Oh, for heaven's sake I thought, well if she hadn't the sense to keep her big gob closed then the I would see that she sang to a different fucking tune! I raised the paddle.....

Yes, I repeated to myself sometime later. Time really does pass quickly when you are having fun. She'd passed out a second time not long after I switched the paddle for the cane and then for the third time after a particularly rigorous and savage application of the bamboo across her heavily bloodied and bruised rump and thighs. Indeed, I'd given her two more quick stokes before the sudden silence alerted me to the fact that she was no longer screaming and writhing but had gone limp and quiet on me again, so focused had I become in seeking out unmarked flesh to kiss with my cane.

I gently stroked her hair. "Oh, you poor pony, dear dear me, and the nasty nightmare has only just begun. Are you dreaming sweet dreams ponygirl or reliving the horrors I wonder? I laughed and gave her ravaged meaty rump a hard slap with my gloved hand. "Well, I can assure you Beauty that the same horrors will still exist from the very moment you wake. What will you do I wonder, what will you say, will you be pony, will you be girl or betwixt and between?"

Some fragments of splintered wood caught my eye. Yes, I must invest in better quality canes when I next put an order into my supplier of quality exotic toys. Those eBay things broke way faster than the subject I wanted them to break. Cheap rubbish or maybe I'd had used them a bit too enthusiastically. Whatever!

I gave her a final check then left her to slumber on looking so peaceful. I doubted if she would be out for more than a couple of minutes and I wanted her to wake and find me gone. Let memory return and then she could sweat on as to what came next - bondage, humiliation and de-humanisation. Given sufficient time I could have probably broken the bitch without even laying a hand on her I suspected. Then again, where would the fun be in going that?

However, I was acutely conscious of one thing. The state of that big well thrashed bottom meant that I now did need to change my sopping panties! I closed the stable door very quietly. Dream on pony because when you awake, it will be an introduction to 'bit and breakfast', and you won't like either!


Chapter 15 (added: 2020/01/06)

She got her first full taste of the obligatory mouth bit as I released her from the bench and walked her back to the stall. A slightly weak legged wobbly walk even though I'd generously given her a couple of hours to recover from the flogging. Again, not my original intention but what the hell. When all your fantasies come true, and you're on a massive sadistic organismic high, well, like I said, what the hell?

I'd had my coffee and nibbled on a few cookies but much later than I'd intended when I left the stable. I had meant to quickly nip upstairs to check on Fluffy plus a quick change of knickers. Well to cut a long story short as they say. Boots kicked off, britches down, crotch naked, panty drawer open and...and my smelly little puppy girl with her big sad eyes and a runny nose snuffling so sweetly backwards into the non-existent safety of a nearby alcove.

That's not the way it's done I thought to myself. I'd just had the enthusiastic young Raven jumping all over me and yapping like crazy down below in the kitchen. I fully expected little Fluffy to behave the same whenever her owner appeared, much more so in fact because I wasn't likely to roast Raven's rump in the way I'd cook hers! Oh, well Rome wasn't built in a day, and as I'd said to Beauty earlier we all had plenty of time and this little creature could look forward to a lifespan way in excess of the normal briefer doggie one. In this case my puppy certainly wasn't just for Christmas but for one hell of a lot longer. Perhaps hell being a very appropriate term in her case!

I paused then looked thoughtfully from her to my rumpled unmade bed, back to her, to the discarded paddle and back again to my frightened piss stinky little bitch. I slammed the drawer shut, walked over to pick the paddle up and then over to my now terrified puppy, slapping its smooth flat leather-covered surface against my other palm. She got the message and did that cringing 'trying to push herself through a solid wall' act again. I stood looking down at my cowering snivelling little bitch still tapping my punishment paddle. God, what a feeling of omnipotence! Coffee and Beauty were going to have to wait a bit, maybe quite a bit I decided unhooking her leash, kicked her butt and dragged her bodily towards the bed little puppyfied bent limbs scrabbling cutely but to no avail on the carpeting. I settled myself comfortably, opened my legs, clicked my fingers and pointed to the damp target area and waited.

No movement. I raised my eyebrows along with the paddle this time slapping my other palm with it several times so that it made a beautiful loud noise not to mention making my palm tingle. I snapped my fingers again and pointed to my crotch. Still nothing. Bitch! Ok, if you want to play it that way, I looked around, and my eyes alighted on the thin crook handled cane that I'd used on her last night innocently hanging from my bed headboard.

Movement, her eyes had followed mine. She gave a gasping sob and then began to move. I hadn't needed to say a single word. I watched with cruel satisfaction as she managed to use her cute little puppy legs to scramble up onto my bed and slowly oh so reluctantly approached to pay homage to her owner, tears cascading down her face. She also had snot dribbling from her nose I noticed with distaste but decided to ignore it. Body fluids of whatever sort was something I would have to get used to with my captive animals anyway and right now that reluctant pink tongue approaching my honeypot was way more important even if it did mean wiping her mucky snout with my hairy muff!

I sighed in anticipation, settled a little deeper and spread my legs wider. Amazing, one night was all it had taken. One single night and now I could look forward to this touch of heaven whenever the mood took me. Not only that, with practice, it would get a whole lot better I was sure. Beauty would take a little longer to come to heel but what chance did she have...none at all. I picked the cane up anyway and tapped Fluffy on the head and then stabbed my finger downwards. "Begin pup!"

The stupid animal started again the moment I pulled the stable door open. Sheesh, hadn't I recently lit a bonfire on its bloody bottom and left it laid out cold, devoid of breath, strength and conscious awareness. Apparently she hadn't learned a damn thing! I ignored the babble. Yeah, go on then missee, go report me to the police then! Just the minor matter of getting yourself up off that bench and out of that harness first. Free? In your dreams pony, in your fucking dreams!

Much as I would have liked to have carried on our little 'etiquette' session common sense overruled the urge, and I don't mind admitting it was a very strong urge. Especially with the racket she was making! Yup, I decided, no doubt about it, I was an out and out sadist wasn't I? Still she was getting tiresome now and could I trust myself if she continued to piss me off? I needed to shut her up so no better time to move right along onto the next stage of ponyfication.

There were several for me to choose from, and I'd experimented with them all. I selected 'Black Beauty'. Appropriately named, this device would shut her up and at the same time serve to remind her of just what sort of a critter she now was I thought. It wasn't the biggest nor the smallest, but it was among the most expensive. I'd use the medium size. Maybe the smaller one would be better. No, I thought, she had a generous wide mouth, and she was a big lass. Anyway, I didn't have one; I'd purchased only the medium and the large-sized ones. I'd save the latter for a later date.

Naturally, she wasn't very cooperative when I fitted her with the specialised pony bit but then there is only so much you can do when you are strapped down tightly to a flogging bench isn't there? Correction. Actually, there is not a damn thing you can do beyond trying to keep your mouth closed, but not for long though as someone pinching your nostrils closed soon renders that action ineffective.

I think in the brief interval available to her she was attempting to start shrieking something again about the police before I popped it in and silenced her. Our local constables in the blue suits. Were they blue, dark blue I wondered or black? Anyway, the only thing you noticed these days most often was the yellow high res over jacket many of them wore. I shook myself. Concentrate silly!

The nasty device clicked securely into the appropriate fittings on her head bridle, and I reached down gently to pull the tightening straps through their respective roller buckles. My gloved fingers pushing it firmly into place and ensuring it was a snug fit. Snug but not too comfortable. It wasn't a comforter damn it. Its job was to render her dumb and add yet one more aspect to the de-humanisation process. There was an internal piece which pressed down upon her tongue, and although it didn't silence her completely it ensured that the only noise that emerged was both muted and indecipherable!

Easy-peasy and one ponygirl quickly rendered dumb or virtually dumb. I tweaked the straps a little tighter. Better. I looked down at the saliva on my gloved hand with a slight feeling of nausea. Odd I thought as I rubbed it off against my riding pants. Why should I find that offensive when a tongue wet with the same stuff had been energetically lapping away at my naked pussy barely thirty minutes before!

I bent down to take a closer look. Even that simple act gave me a jolt of sheer pleasure. I could do that. I was totally in command of my own body and will. I could bend, stand, laugh, cry, talk, dress and was no different to how I had been last week, last month, last year. This creature, however?

Alright, so maybe a little different was putting it mildly. I was after all the one responsible for the animal's predicament wasn't I? I was the one who had just thrashed it and would undoubtedly do so again and again and again! The difference between us though? That was part of the thrill I realised. I could do all sorts of things and she most certainly couldn't! She couldn't do a damn thing for herself. She wasn't even a slave; her life would be a hundred times worse than any of those unfortunates who'd laboured on the plantations in the deep south.

Hmmm, but those yellowing stained teeth against the black bit! I suppose you couldn't have everything. There was no way I could get her to a dentist for some teeth whitening was there? Pity though. A beautiful gleaming set of pearly white gnashers chopping on her bit would have been...oh well, come on girl why worry about such a minor thing when the rest of the beast was so damn perfect. Hell just a few days ago you were frigging yourself off over pictures on your computer, and now you have the real thing helpless and beaten in front of you!

I twisted her bridle slightly so that I could look her full in the face smiling as our eyes met. Mine cool, contented and gleaming with cruelty, hers wet, red-rimmed and still full of horror, fear and loathing. I gently rubbed her down one cheek or the portion I could see with one gloved finger allowing myself to trace down the path of a wet tear. Then I rubbed over her teeth upper and lower as I checked the hard rubber bit, checked it was being held tight but not too tight. I wanted her silenced. I wanted her to feel like the dumb animal she now was. I wanted her uncomfortable but not in pain. Well nothing unbearable anyway.

I had others over there in the drawer that would be a lot nastier should I choose to use them, and I was sure that she would give me plenty of opportunities to do so until she finally accepted her fate and to whom she now belonged and the role that fate had cast her in. Not that any such acceptance would spare her as I was sure that my cruelty wouldn't diminish with time.

Sheesh, I must have read reams and reams in all my pony books and stories about bits and gags and downloaded a ton of images of the things both in and out of pony mouths. It was only a small thing and yet in its way perhaps far more humiliating than anything else I had strapped on to her body. The corset, the harness, bridle, armbinder yeah all horrible things but taken individually they did nothing to dehumanise her. Restrain her, yes but she was still a human being, wasn't she? But the bit, the bit silenced her, deprived her of the power of coherent speech. Yes, a ball gag could have done that but a slight shape change altered everything. One simple device switched her from a silenced captive human to a dumb captive animal.

I intended to keep it simple as well. I'd read stories where owners pulled several teeth out of their ponies mouths so that the bits they wore fitted better. Well, I certainly wasn't going to do that. Too squeamish for one thing. Funny, I had just thrashed two women quite unmercifully turning an indifferent callous eye to bruised bleeding flesh yet the thought of using a pair of dental pliers, ugh! Maybe it was something to do with that innate dislike of dentists that most of us seem to have?

Besides, I'd experimented on myself with a number of my purchases and didn't think it necessary to go to such extremes. I'd even gone so far as to download decibel apps to my cell phone so that I could measure the amount of noise I could make with different bits and strap settings. How nerdy can you get?

Well, there's nothing like carrying out a practical test under operational conditions so to speak. Her eyes went wild as I bent down and picked up my paddle. Aw, c'mon pony I thought. It's not the cane so why the sudden panic? A little unfair I suppose give the bruised and bloody mess her rump was in, but that was all to the good as far as this wicked little experiment went wasn't it?

A moment later, after delivering a good solid meaty stroke smack plumb on the main target area I was able to reassess the situation from her reaction. A very satisfying response it was too. The animal writhed and wriggled so delightfully but totally in vain of course, and she yelled full-on, or tried to but with only marginally more success than her frantic efforts to escape. She could still make noise, more than enough to get my pussy tingling again but now it was but the muted meaningless howl of an animal in pain.

Her head turned towards me again, and I saw jaw and throat moving in tandem desperately trying to speak, to tell me something, to beg perhaps but all to no avail. Spittle bubbles, drool and some low volume inaudible...what emerged? I smiled to myself. Indistinct, meaningless pathetic animal noises that's what. Job done.

I was delighted - two birds with one stone. Not only had I dehumanised her vocally, but I could still hear and enjoy those squeals of pain and outrage that I found so delightful. I was so happy with myself that I gave her a couple more hard swats just so's to enjoy the music.

My pony was still making funny noises as I walked her back to her stall, I found them as entertaining and arousing almost as much as her screaming. That I realised had been louder and more intense than I had realised as I recognised the signs of a possible migraine coming on. Oh well that would be a small if inconvenient price to pay for my fun.

Staggered was probably a more apt term than walked. I thought she was going to fall straight over as I helped her up off the makeshift flogging bench. All the strength seemed to have gone from her legs, and I had to half support her for a moment while she re-discovered her balance, then we lurched across to the waiting stall. Good job the pony boots hadn't arrived yet. I giggled, my sense of humour coming out again. Just as well there were none of the 'police' she'd been shrieking to help her around either. Definitely looked like a case of someone who'd had a few too many! True I reflected thanks to me, but the 'many' had not come out of a bottle!

I'd only just steered her through the door and re-secured her when my phone beeped to let me know that I had a message. I'd hovered a little indecisively wondering whether to clean up the mess of shit and piss she'd dumped in the sawdust overnight while keeping her outside the enclosure for convenience or bung her in and work around her. I'd decided on the latter feeling that once again it would add that little bit extra to the dehumanising program when I got the familiar jingle.

I tapped my phone screen and then gave a big whoop of delight. That must have surprised Beauty as much as it surprised me. I had a parcel from Germany waiting to be collected at the post office, yowser, I'd paid a substantial extra fee for speedy airmail delivery but...sheesh, German efficiency! Kudos even to their British counterparts.

Beauty was leaning hard against the rough stone wall in abject misery her lungs working overtime as she continued to learn the art of breathing almost entirely through her nose after heavy exertion. Heavy, gee just a beating and a bit of a walk. Wait till you have to gallop pony with me on your fucking back! Odd muted muttering still emerged from around the drool covered bit but hardly audible and undoubtedly incomprehensible. Her moist tearful eyes fixed on me with a look of sheer incomprehension as if nothing that was happening was happening! Why? Why her, what had she done?

Wrong place, wrong time baby I thought as I raised a finger and patted her on one cheek the bit of it visible under the head harness and bridle. "Oh, don't look so sad Beauty, things will soon get better" I lied to the poor creature without a second thought. I moved my hand and ran the same finger over her top teeth rubbing up and along her gums. "Such nice big gnashers pony. Pity about all these nasty nicotine stains. Maybe I can find something to give them a good scrub, eh?"

I withdrew my finger and wiped the saliva off it on her left breast pausing for a second to give the big nipple a few gentle strokes. That caused her to suddenly buck and jump back as far as she could which was all of about six inches.

I laughed. "Ok pony, break time." I smiled sweetly. "Your new owner has to go out for half an hour or so but I promise I won't be too long. When I get back I'll muck your stall filthy out and see about feeding you some nice pony chow." I reached out to her breast again, but she tried to turn away looking at me with wide horror-filled eyes making me laugh again.

"Enjoy the little break, Beauty," I told her. "When I get back and done with the boring housekeeping bit we can both play 'finish dressing the pony' with some lovely new items won't that be fun?"

I quickly nipped her nipple between two fingers before she could resist, gave it a quick tweak and then as I released it blew her a quick kiss and departed on my errand chuckling at the look of utter disgust in her big blue eyes.


Chapter 16 (added: 2020/01/31)

I made extra sure that my house and stable doors were firmly closed and locked. It was highly unlikely that anybody would be coming out here anyway, those that did such as the telephone engineer who had recently sorted out my intermittent internet problem, I knew about in advance. I couldn't even remember the last cold caller in fact I don't think I had ever had one since returning to live there. Nevertheless, I wasn't about to take chances.

My sense of humour took over again as I drove along the winding track to my entrance gate. I don't know why but the subject of holidays had suddenly entered my head. In a sense thinking back some months that's what had started everything off when I'd been thinking of going on a pony trekking holiday, and the keywords I had typed into Google had ultimately put poor Beauty into my stable.

I was amused because I was thinking of my two new animals and how tied down I was going to be from now on. Way more so than any regular pet owner. I couldn't exactly put little Fluffy in the nearest boarding kennels could I while I flew off for a week to sun myself on the beach in Majorca! Likewise, with Beauty. Excuse me could your stable look after my pony for a fortnight and please could you give her a damn good whipping every day and don't let anyone fuck her...lol! That was an aspect you never came across in fiction. Mind you, most people in books or stories' were mega-rich and had a ton of gorgeous young stable girls or lads to look after their animals hadn't they.

That set me thinking a few moments later as I headed towards the village. I wondered if I were the only one, no there must be at least a few others maybe even hundreds who harboured the same dark desires that I had had. Must be from the sheer amount of fetish material around. Who knows I chuckled, maybe there were specialist 'animal' sitters out there somewhere? Hell, if I had known that plus the where and how I could have volunteered and saved myself a lot of trouble.

Not that I intended to even think about doing anything stupid. How many criminals got caught because of their own stupidity? That was something else that was at the back of my mind, and it killed my amusement. I was a criminal now wasn't I. I had committed serious crimes, kidnap, false imprisonments, sexual assault, torture and a few others. It was a sobering thought. How easy was it to cross that line? I was still me and yet as I had thought before, how would other people see me?

What happened if one of my animals got sick really sick would I have to...could I....that was going into a dark area I decided, and I didn't want to begin to think about going there. Thoughts like that and I might turn around and go straight back and release them both. I brooded for a second then the memory of Fluffy's frantic little pink tongue and Beauties delightful screams blotted it out. No bloody way. I had got them, and I was damn well going to keep them. Hell, if the opportunity ever arose, I would even add to my little collection. Now there was a thought.

That amusing little idea kept me occupied all the way to my destination and started that delicious tingle deep in my crotch off again. All the more delicious now I had the means back at home to attend to it. A ponyboy perhaps, maybe it would be fun to have a stallion to fuck, no that wasn't the right way to put it was it? To cover, that was it to cover my Beauty from time to time but only on rare occasions of course and absolutely for my entertainment, not hers! Another puppy? No, I had two already now, and of course Fluffy was going to be, what was the expression for doggies doing it, mounted? No matter fucked would suffice. I suddenly laughed. Hell yes, if she thought licking my pussy was terrible wait till she had to provide Raven with some fun.

A pig! I had an old disused pigsty outback hadn't I. Imagine owning a human-pig. A naked pink human piggy rolling around and rooting about in a filthy muddy pigpen. How humiliatingly disgusting. A boar or a sow I wondered, which would be best. How about a couple even, one of each, wouldn't that be fun? Maybe a bit boring though I decided. I mean once the attraction wore off what would you do with them. Make bacon? I chuckled.

Maybe if some fucker ever really pissed me off and I got my hands on them I decided they might end up rooting for truffles in my sty. What else then, a cow, some nice plump big bitch with oversized udders in another stall I could milk twice a day. It'd read a few Hucow type books. How the hell did you get them to produce the stuff anyway? Probably pure fiction I surmised. I was parking outside the post office and waving to Mrs Ravi before I could take my fantasies any further. Perhaps just as well because who knew to what depraved depths my wicked erotic imagination might take me.

"I certainly hadn't expected this package to arrive this quickly," I said as she passed the heavy-duty cardboard container over to me. That certainly was super-fast".

"It came very special delivery," Mrs Ravi told me in her rather fast sing-song voice. "Never before have I seen one arrive like this, but it is to you via us, same package like other ones you have from Germany before, but they are always before been by the parcel post. This one came on its own brought in by man from delivery company I have not known previously."

"Oh well, I said. I am glad it is here early. There are a few groceries I need to buy as well. A thought struck me as I glanced around at the well-stocked shelves of the shop part. Do you still have any of that cheap dog food you were trying to shift a couple of weeks ago?"

"Oh yes, we still have plenty, no one want to buy it. I told him at cash and carry, no I said do not buy that as no one will want it, it is no good rubbish, but would he listen. I tell him if cash and carry sell so very cheap and it have long date then it is no good, if they cannot sell, then we cannot. Did he listen to his wife? No, of course not! Ten cases we now have, ten! You sure you want?"

I laughed. Oh, I think I can find a use for it. I'll mix it with a few other more tempting additives."

Mrs Ravi shook her head, looking doubtful. "Our little Raj wouldn't even taste it. Sniff sniff once and that was it, No, damn good, I think your dog will not eat."

I laughed again. "Oh, have no worries, I'll take a couple of cases off your hands. I am absolutely sure my puppy will eat it; I can be very patient and persuasive" I assured her. Well I thought to myself that was only half a lie I wouldn't have much patience, but with my cane, in my hand, I could undoubtedly be very persuasive if little Fluffy got too fussy over the cuisine!

Five minutes later, I was on my way home thinking up menus that progressively got more revolting. Doggie chunks and spaghetti, chunky dog lumps and beans, raw egg and gravy chunks and...well you get the picture. I was way too engrossed to notice a small non-descriptive white van pull out of the pub car park and proceed along the road behind me. I stopped to open my gate to get the car in when it carefully pulled up beside me, and the driver's window slid down.

"Excuse me, madam," the driver said politely but with an odd heavy accent. He gestured up and down the road with one hand. "I have delivery here for Greystone House, is somewhere along this road but I have no number they give only road and name which is for house, is difficult!"

I nodded sympathetically. A lot of us don't have assigned house numbers along here, just a building name, road and the postcode. Mine is Brockhurst farm. I can't help you with that one though I have never heard of it. Mind you I hardly know the names of any around here. Why don't you ask at the post office back in the village that way? It's not far, and they should know."

The man gave a little appreciative exclamation and nodded his thanks, drove a little further on then made a three-point turn and waved to me as he passed. I thought nothing of it, manoeuvred the car through, closed the gate and drove home extremely eager to open my parcel and commence the next stage in my animals evolution.

I plonked the box down on the kitchen table and went to rummage around in a kitchen unit in search of a knife. I knew from previous deliveries that this company didn't cut costs on packaging, nor should they at their prices! Despite my eagerness, I was amused to find myself carefully replacing the knife back in its respective drawer once I'd finished murdering brown adhesive tape with it. Quite a contrast to the resident clutter I'd just carelessly swept aside to make room for the box. My I thought, aren't we becoming a tidy little madam now that it might not be advisable to leave bladed items like that laying around!

One deluxe made to measure 'puppy suit' wrapped in several layers of soft purple tissue paper. One very high-quality outfit, my eager hands told me as I examined the garment. Soft, very soft with a distinct furry feel to the exterior, thin though and stretchy so it would cling tightly to every curve of my sexy little puppies body.

I carefully examined the leg and arm 'pouches' or pockets I suppose you could call them, after all, they were the essential features of the outfit. I'd considered the variant where knees and elbows were supported by padded artificial paws and concluded that they were just clumsy and unnecessary additions. They looked good in the photos but how practical in daily use I questioned? I'd settled for one with simple thick leather pads that could easily be replaced with the spares they included.

There were some wide Velcro fastening straps of a very thin material enclosed with the instructions, quite comprehensive instructions with lots of colour photos that showed how to put the suit on your puppy, how to restrain its bent limbs, how to keep the garment clean. That was simple. You could they said, put it through the washing machine at a low temperature or, and I had to laugh at the images. They showed several photos of a puppy boy complete with doggie headgear being hosed down by his young mistress and then scrubbed with a stiff brush. That appeared to be their recommended method, easier for the owner than repeatedly removing and re-fitting the suit!

They advised the owner against using a very stiff bristle brush and hot water. A soft to medium stiff flexible nylon brush plus luke-warm or cold water and a mild household laundry detergent should suffice, also to choose a suitable location preferably outside. The newly bathed puppy should be encouraged to shake themselves vigorously as per their canine counterparts to assist the natural drying process. There were a couple of pictures of the same puppy boy doing just that, his mistress having swapped scrubbing brush for a bamboo cane to provide the recommended encouragement. Shit, this company knew how to hit all the right buttons!

Although in one sense the garment did feel a little on the flimsy side any doubts I'd had about the security of the suit diminished at that point. The arm and leg enclosures were supposedly much stronger than the rest of the outfit for obvious reasons, but to my fingers, I could not feel any significant difference at all. If this company described them as 'escape-proof', I had to believe them. Besides, even if the little bitch did manage to rip her way out of it all she'd gain would be one hell of a thrashing. The leather collar would remain locked about her neck 24/7 and the chain from that to some strong point likewise when I was not around.

The straps included were designed to restrain the puppies doubled up limbs to assist in dressing. The suit had a 'thermal' element to it. They said once you'd got your puppy snuggly ensconced in its second skin, there was enough stretch to allow you to get a hand in and release the straps. You could leave them on, but they recommended against doing so. That could lead to future problems with muscle cramp and blood flow. The garment was designed to react to body heat and would slowly contract to ensure a perfect fit and would continue to do so should the puppy lose weight. A not 'uncommon' occurrence the pamphlet informed when new puppies were becoming accustomed to a different diet. Shit, this companies literature! They must have a hell of a lot of 'heavy fetish' players filling up orders for this stuff in their extreme range? Either that or it must have been designed for ultra perves like me!

Once you were happy with everything you could fasten the unique low-profile zip along its back and the cunning seal would provide an invisible smooth join that you could barely feel let alone see. There was no ugly break to ruin your visual enjoyment of your pets new skin nor spoil your delight when stroking and petting the animal.

The cleverly designed leg and arm restraints would adapt to your puppies needs, allowing a modicum of internal flexibility for health reasons but remain absolutely inescapable. Even if the puppy tried to snag the material on a sharp protruding item such as a nail, it would be unlikely that their limited posture would allow them to muster sufficient strength to cause any significant tear.

Evidently they had the same confidence in this product as they had in their leather gear with the customary standard guarantee for the 'inescapable range'. Everything was either ten years or life. It made me wonder as I popped everything back in the box how many of their customers had a puppy confined in one for ten years or life? Would I be the first? I giggled aloud. I wondered how they'd react if I were to send them a photo ten years hence from a highly satisfied customer? One satisfied half of the partnership, I doubt that the other half would be anywhere near as happy nor likely to happily endorse the product! Ten years, Sheesh! It was unimaginable.

I moved onto the next item. Boots or puppy-suit? I pondered briefly. A mostly redundant question because I had already considered it and ninety per cent made my mind up while driving home. I'd carry on with Beauty out in the stable, I was dressed for that anyway and no doubt I would be as randy as fuck once again after I'd finished with her. I 'd pop a bottle of wine in the fridge to chill, I know some people would think that sacrilegious, but I liked a chilled glass of white wine or two, now and again when I relaxed. I smiled, yes I was anticipating doing a lot of sensual relaxing later that evening!

Once I headed upstairs with a cold bottle along with Fluffy's new outfit, I did not intend coming down again till the next morning. I planned on making it a double dressing session. There were several flimsy garments in sealed cellophane packets lurking at the back of my knickers drawer that I'd purchased on a whim and never actually worn. This seemed like the perfect occasion to slip into that sexy black nylon catsuit with the open crotch. If nothing else it would give me the freedom of movement I would need when I 'dressed' a very unwilling young woman into her second skin. I anticipated more than a little body contact between us as I forced her into it, and wouldn't it make everything feel so much sexier?

Practicalities though first. Desirous as I was to start cramming my Beauty into her hoofs I had to restrain my eagerness and attend to the basics of animal husbandry. The fun part discounting having to collect up all of Fluffy's piss stinky bedding and shoving it in the washing machine, was taking her for a few turns around the yard followed by the curious Raven yapping at her heels. Poor little weepy thing desperately waddling along on her filthy elbows. Terrified both of my hovering cane and of her substantial four-legged admirer sent me into overdrive. The urge to drag her sexy quivering little body straight back into the house and up to my bedroom was considerable!

I was about to make a little speech about puppy bedroom hygiene when I remembered that she probably wouldn't understand me. Beyond basics her English was virtually non-existent and what with Raven and me both menacing her I doubted if a single word would have registered anyway even if she'd been fluent!. OK, so I might as well start her toilet training by example. I mean to use the much-hacked phrase, it weren't rocket science, learning to crap in the dirt, and last night she'd shown she could learn pretty darn quick when it came to what I'd wanted from the other end!

Besides, real puppies don't speak English either, and they soon learned when and where to pee and poop, also to hold it in till it was time for walkies. All it took was repetition plus perhaps a little mild 'corrective' encouragement. Mild? Not relevant to this case, and I was already holding a suitable implement to assist the tutorial.

I was ably assisted as it happened by my real four-legged canine. I'd dragged the reluctant little beast over to the corner of the stable near my overgrown rubbish heap when Raven fortuitously abandoned sniffing at her rump and decided it was time to cock his leg. I bet down and grabbed her head, twisting it and pointing to Puppy number one going about his business as though on cue!

"Good boy, good boy" I complimented him and stroked his head then hauled Fluffy over to the little brown pile and pointed my cane at it. Given the uneven head down posture, her bindings forced her to adopt the nose of the creature was almost touching the three turds nor would I let her retreat from them. I contemplated whether I should shove her cute snout down into them or to merely hold her head near enough to get a good sniff. That was one thing the little bitch would have to get used to, sniffing all those wonderful things doggies like to get their noses into!

A thought occurred, resulting in the inevitable giggle. Better make sure that I wiped her muzzle down carefully before she got busy on her extended oral puppy duties later. I doubted if Raven would be fussy, but I most certainly would be! The little bitch wasn't at all happy what with what was right under her muzzle nor with Raven resuming his sniffing at the other end making her flinch at every touch of his cold, wet nose upon her rump.

"No, NO, STAY" I ordered hauling her forward. "NO" I gave her a quick cut with the cane on her rump. "Stay, stay Fluffy, that's a good girl! No Raven, away Raven, not now, not yet boy. You can play with her later, away. Go on; it will be well worth the wait mummy promises darling".

He gave me a reproachful look and then slunk away pretending to be miserable for a few yards till something fluttered past his head, then he bounded forward barking loudly and happily chasing after it in the direction of my little paddock.

Fluffy was watching him, so I gave her a mild swipe to remind her to stay focused on the matter to hand. I decided that I might as well demean myself again it had worked last night so why not now. I waggled the cane in front of her eyes, keeping a firm hold on her leash as she attempted to back away again. "NO Fluffy!" A sweet little tear-stained face turned towards me, so pathetic and yet so deliciously sweet. I'd shoved her gag back in before we came out. I suspected that if I hadn't, we'd be back to square one when it came to getting vocal, and it was unlikely to be in 'puppy talk'.

I pointed to the unpleasant little pile again making sure that I had her full attention, then I made a squatting motion and pantomimed pointing to my arse and then to Ravens small pile. I did that several times then tapped her rump and followed through by poking her ass hole and clit with the tip of my cane and gesturing toward the yucky pile with an outstretched finger. Then I assumed a posture indicating that I had all the time in the world to wait.

It took a couple of goes, but then I saw horrified realisation dawn in her eyes. It was fun that look she gave me. I smiled in encouragement and nodded down at her and pointed once again to Raven's dump. Yup girl, bingo, you got it one bitch. Well maybe got it in four! I wonder if you are all that bright. There you are, down there with a dog collar around your neck, grovelling on all fours on the end of a leash, do you really think it will all stop for a proper bathroom break, you silly little bitch?

I jabbed a finger down again at the example and tapped the cane impatiently against my boot. Three times I repeated the action and then lashed out, giving her a hard cut. That sent the little wretch rolling in the dirt howling mutely into her gag. I gave her a couple of seconds before dragging her back on to her paws and repeated.

Her hind legs reluctantly parted in a sort of squat and she finally peed. Not a huge amount but enough to satisfy me as I watched the yellow trickle splash into the dirt. The bitch now had six fresh new stripes across her tortured rump, but once again she'd learned a new trick.

"Good girl, good good girl!" I watched the final dribbles with mixed feelings. A part of me was thrilled and elated at how quickly I'd reduced the little bitch to this low animal status, yet another part was a bit disappointed. Had the bitch no pride, no sense of shame, could she not resist me for at least a little bit longer. Maybe it was my own fault I reflected looking at the six bloody welts across her already swollen bruised and pulverised rump. If that was me could I have stood up to another thrashing on that plump little booty I wondered?

Thirty minutes later I was back to my big parcel on the kitchen table retrieving the second major item I'd ordered, the long rectangular box that contained Beauties new footwear. Little Fluffy was safely chained to the wall having been fed and watered. I'd gone soft and changed my mind taking pity on her at the last moment. I'd grabbed a couple of tins of the new dog food from two different cartons intending to give her a choice, but somehow the look in her sad puppy eyes got to me. Softie! Anyway, didn't I wanted her fully energised for later?

I'd filled her doggie bowl with cornflakes instead, added a couple of mashed up bananas, some mixed dried fruit and a generous quantity of semi-skimmed milk. I put it down in front of her and removed the gag but not before tapping her on the nose a few times with my cane. Once again I demeaned myself repeating the doggie noises I'd made the previous night and pointed at her then tapped with the cane again. My eyes never left hers as I removed the red ball gag, ensuring my menacing cane was continually in view. She gasped and spluttered and briefly resisted as I took a firm grip on her collar and pushed her head down over the bowl and snapped my fingers.

Ten minutes later she hadn't completely finished it, but at this early stage of her training, I could forgive that especially given the choking fit she'd had halfway through. I would not tolerate it for too long though. Good puppies licked their food bowls spotless and I would expect no less from her regardless of what tasty delights I placed in them! Raven was still happily running around and playing outside, so I left her secured in the kitchen and went to over to feed Beauty and then muck out her stall.

A little later and chores finally complete I re-crossed the yard with the long boots box under my arm. That would be another lesson I'd have to teach the little bitch I thought to myself. Puppies should greet their owners enthusiastically every time they enter the house not just lay there in a tearful snivelling heap of self-pitying misery. The bitch was there for my entertainment and delight, so she'd better learn to keep such emotions well-hidden or else!

These boots were something else. Vastly more impressive in the flesh than in the website images. Unlike some over-priced 'must-have' smartphone or the latest fashionable electronic gadget, they didn't come in a fancy designer box. One of those cunningly contrived to convince the gullible that the product within was better than its rivals and thereby justify its premium price. These just came in an unadorned, simple white cardboard one with the contents wrapped individually in that same purple tissue paper.

It hit you immediately, though. That heady aroma of brand-new leather, expensive leather, the craftsmanship, the quality and yet, perhaps a slight feeling of initial disappointment. I'd seen cheap high heeled knee boots in shopping malls that outwardly looked glossier and more finished hadn't I?

That feeling quickly disappeared as I took picked one up and started examining it. These were working boots handcrafted to the highest standards and intended to last for years. They'd cost a fortune but then I thought, take that price and divide it by the number of weeks, months even years then the amount was negligible! How much did a decent pair of hand-made construction site steel-toed work boots cost and their usage would be minimal compared to these two beauties? Naturally, I giggled. Two booty beauties for Beauties tootsies!

No these were not fashion boots designed for some little tart short of skirt and long on makeup to strut her stuff around the office or down at the local disco. The only 'hard-ons' this footwear would arouse would be in perverted people like me, just looking and touching them for real rather than over the internet was already stirring up those ever-eager internal juices I'd so belatedly discovered.

As with the puppy-suit, there was a comprehensive set of instructions and recommendations enclosed complete with colour photographs. Hell, I thought as my eye quickly scanned the literature, this was a bit different from the last pair of boots I'd purchased. All that had involved had been opening the box, removing the packing pieces, sticking my feet in and then pulling up the zips. My eye caught advice on removing leg hair, particularly in male ponies, wetting and warming the leather for a skin-tight fit, permanent and non-permanent usage - that looked interesting. The toe end of the hoof could also be removed via some small recessed screws to allow an owner to trim the nails on the 'natural inner hoof'- their expression not mine.

Just as with the puppy suit, there was a definite thread running through the 'recommended' advice they gave. I wouldn't have described it as blatantly sinister, but it was always there and not entirely subliminal either in some places. At one point they drew your attention to the boots available in their range that did not feature the removable toe covers, better suited for those ponies whose owners had taken the appropriate 'cuticle' removal' steps to ensure that such regular trimming was superfluous! Jeez, were these guys for real? If so, sheesh the mind boggles!

I put the box down on my improvised flogging bench and turned to look thoughtfully at Beauty while absently turning the right boot over and over in my hands. Beauty was stationary and watching me intently, but I was too far away to see the look in her eyes, but I knew she could see what I was holding and that she would also know which of us would soon be wearing them! What she didn't realise and at that distance probably couldn't yet appreciate was just how specialised her beautiful new footwear would be!

I could see the messy splodges of food splashed all over her face. Beauty had proved considerably more stubborn than her little friend when I had tried to feed her ten minutes or so earlier. I hadn't entirely made up my mind as to her future diet yet and as I'd overdone the amount of food for Fluffy, I'd used the excess with the addition of a large handful of traditional porridge and a cup of cold water as an afterthought. Well, you know what I mean, horses plus oats!

The ungrateful animal surely must have been ravenous but showed absolutely no appetite when I placed the two stainless steel bowls into their respective cut-outs I'd carefully crafted into the shelf fitted to the rear of her stall. I was a bit miffed, that shelf had taken me the better part of two hours and some pretty nifty work with a jigsaw. How dare the sullen fucker refuse to eat and drink!

I won't deny that that urge to viciously reapply cane or crop was somewhat overwhelming at that moment but the brutal damage I'd already wrought upon her rump was so evident that I reluctantly subdued my sadistic ire. Angry as I was I certainly didn't want to kill the poor beast did I?

My second reaction was equally automatic reaching up to her head harness with both hands I dragged downwards, released one hand and used it to shove her face down into the water bowl firmly.

"Drink" I screamed as I fought the struggling creature. "Drink, eat!"

Three times I dunked her and then repeated the action in her food bowl. It was a fight; she was stronger but considerably handicapped by her bindings and I was panting heavily when I released her and grabbed for my crop. "Fucking animal" I snarled looking up into her wet food smeared face. "That food bowl had better be fucking empty by the tonight or you'll get more of this!"

I let go of her head harness and sank the tip of the crop deep into her bruised right buttock. My how she jumped and squealed and was about to make another cardinal error, but I stopped her. I twisted my arm and jammed the handle of my crop into her open mouth before she could say whatever meaningless thing she'd been about to utter. Meaningless to me, anyway!

"Don't!" I hissed. "Don't even think about saying anything, pony. You know what I'll do to your fat fucking pony arse if you try and talk. Think about the pain I will cause you." I pushed cruelly upwards against the roof of her mouth. "Think hard". Our eyes met and she was the first to flinch and look away.

I lowered the crop slowly nodding to her as I did so. "Better" I straightened my arm and raised the tip of the implement to tap her on the mouth. " Much better. Keep this useless hole tight shut except for eating, drinking and making your pony noises, think on it my Beauty. Then a thought occurred to me producing the inevitable giggle.

"Well ok, let's add screaming to the list because I rather enjoy that" I whispered and tapped her bloody rump. "Somehow how though I don't think you really want to do any more screaming for me today do you, eh?" I gave her a double tap delighting in the skittish way she jumped with each light touch.

"Maybe think is the wrong term, eh animal?" I continued. "let us call it instinct instead, that primitive survival instinct all animals must possess. Instinct because FUCKING ANIMALS LIKE YOU DON'T THINK PERIOD" I shrieked and gave her yet another slashing cut with the crop.

Of course, she did scream for me at that point and somewhat to a mixture of amusement and disappointment on my part proceeded to break the cardinal rule once more, yelling at me, screaming just what she thought about me, about everything and a lot more. I think that just for the moment she was quite beyond fear and the inevitable consequences of such silly disobedience. Still, early days, early days I told myself as I firmly popped her bit back in and tightened the straps effectively cutting most of the strident flow off.

Fortunately, I had my ire well and truly under control, fortunately for her anyway. I ran a finger down her cheek and chin collecting some of the yucky detritus left by her meal, flicked it up into her face and then wiped the remainder off on a handy quivering white breast.

"Better you stay quiet for a bit Beauty I think," I told her. "Once I have got your nice new boots on I'll take it back out and you can eat everything and lick your trough bowls clean." I laughed and adroitly gave a prominent nipple another quick squeeze. "Give you something to think about while you adjust to them, food for thought eh?"

Oh, if looks could kill! However, they can't, and although my relationship with my two delicious captives had barely started, I was already totally impervious to all looks and pleas from them. Indeed, the opposite was true. Big sad, tearful eyes and pathetic squeals merely served to stimulate not smother my sadistic impulses. I couldn't resist giving that oh so helpless and tempting nub of sensitive flesh another vicious squeeze as I leaned close and whispered. "Best to get everything sorted early on pony, better for both of us in the long run I think!"

Looking at her again now it was a pity that I had not received that text notification a little earlier while I still had the big creature securely strapped tightly upon my bench here I thought looking at the boot and then glancing down at the info sheets. I was going to need her fastened very firmly so that she would be immobile again. It wasn't going to be a case of awaiting a suitable opening to grab hold of a stubborn flaying limb tightly and thrusting her foot into a boot, then securely fastening it. Apart from future potential problems if I rushed the operation, I'd also be returning to the possibility of losing my front teeth to a flying kick!

No, this would take time, and I wanted to do it properly, once those boots were on, I intended for them to stay on for a long time. A very long time. I didn't want the silly creature imagining that they'd be on and off every ten minutes. I intended for them to be as much a part of her anatomy as the leg enclosed within it. In a sense more even than that, in my eyes, they would replace everything from the knee down, human feet would become animal hoofs on this exquisite creature! What was that term they'd used, 'natural inner hoof'? Yes, that natural inner and the un-natural outer would become as one forming my Beauties new hoofs!

I was so engrossed in the erotic thought process that I neither saw nor heard the stable door open quietly behind me. Beauty noticed because she startled me by suddenly jumping up and down in her bonds and making frantic noises into her bit, her head and body shaking violently from side to side, her eyes suddenly wide. Just for a second, I thought she was having some sort of fit or seizure but then I heard a quiet female voice from behind me.

"I think perhaps that you will find it easier to fit her hoofs were I to assist?"

Not being restrained, I jumped much higher than Beauty, and it was my turn to have a fit!

Note: This chapter ends Pony Reality part one. I have some ideas for part two, which I may get around to writing at some point.