Midnight-Pearl

'Midnight-Pearl' (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 5 – Sobs

After the horror and fascination of seeing poor Koala-Bare being ridden so terribly brutally with whip and spur I, 'Midnight-Pearl' as I had been so cruelly dubbed, was wiggled along at quite a pace, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip clop in my tip-top-tiptoe-topping wooden clog hooves, hooves now shod, literally shod, with iron pony-shoes, being dragged along, as my beautiful bottom, and the obscene tail forced into it, wagged like the sinful buttocks of a whore seeking custom.

I had no choice other than to go where Alena would have me go. I had a rubber bit tied hard back between my teeth and over my tongue in my thus gaped mouth. And from this bit, fastened to one of the rings the bit had at either and of it, and thus at either side of my lovely negress' lips, hung a short strong lead rein, clipped to one of the rings, and being pulled by Alena as she would have me move as if we were, she at least, and me presumably in consequence, late.

With my waist squeezed savagely down by the saddle belt I wore around my tummy, my bottom seemed to, no, decidedly did swing to and fro alarmingly. No decent girl would walk like the saddle belt made me walk. I had seen hookers, or rather actresses playing hookers, in films on TV. But prostitutes, or even the lap-dancers I had also seen portrayed on celluloid, were not a metaphor for how sensuously sexily my beautiful firm brown bottom undulated and swung as a consequence of my waist being squeezed down from twenty-three delightful inches to a mere fifteen.

'Belly dancer!' That was it; that was the comparison my mind was seeking for, as I was hurried along clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, over the cobbles in the main yard of the pony-farm.

We know, we all know, the enticing and exciting hip-whip of the belly dancer in full flow. That was exactly what my murderously squeezed-down waist was making me do. My belly held steady whilst my bottom, as well as having its girlmuscular hemispheres rise and fall, whipped to and fro like an upbeat metronome. I wiggled like a rattlesnake on speed, and the long tail that rose from the end of the dildo forced up my anus, rose in a parabola before obeying gravity and then the command of my wickedly wildly swinging extremely sexy rear, as it must not just sway at leisure, but swing almost like a puppy dog's tail in time with my deeply erotic gait.

Deep embarrassment and horrible shame were the accompaniments of my lovely bottom's accomplishment. I was never ever a girl who would disport herself this way, and to be stripped naked and made to wiggle endlessly emphatically obscenely, was mental torture for me. Even dancing before and for a girl I loved, I would surely not have flaunted my feminine charms so dirtily! 'Dirty' is a good word for it: I was forced to swing my bottom like a dirty little trollop, no, like a cheap vamp tramp whore, and it shamed and deeply embarrassed me.

As I was walked along, swishing my bottom and swaying my tail, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, I had visitors: very unpleasant visitors.

The sun had risen and I felt its comforting warmth on my nakedness; but even the comfort of the sun could not relieve the irritation from the mass and still building visitation I was receiving.

My absolute and total terror and horror at witnessing Koala-Bare being so savagely used and abused, coming on top of my terrible thought I had harboured, that the blacksmith had intended, once she had deceived me to calmness, to brand me on my bare body, had caused me to piss down my lovely legs. I had pissed in my terror and horror as Koala-Bare was viciously whipped and spurred past me, and the proceeds of my copious peeing was now dried on my thighs and legs.

In the stories, flies always 'buzz'. So do flies buzz in real life: believe me they do! If you don't believe me, imagine a pretty girl bondaged as a ponygirl, wafting her bottom uncontrollably dementedly side-to-side as she clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip-clops obediently on the end of her lead rein, with irritating itch making flies discovering her dried-piss-coated inner-thighs and legs, and then you will know what I mean.

I tugged at the cuffs holding my arms, trying to rescue them from being held up, bent at elbows, wrists fastened above biceps by chains from wrist cuffs to cuffs on upper arms, with my lovely hands no more than extremely decorative dangling appendages. I could not possible free them, as I simply longed to, in order to have some means to drive off the horrible flies: and flies were crawling all over the front insides of my superb thighs. Oh god how they itched and tickled me!

Why? How? How do flies find their target? They were on my breasts now. Ignoring, indeed seeming to enjoy the challenging of hanging on and crawling over them as they bounced, as my huge firm thirty-eight double-D-cup titties bounced, they were enjoying and I consequently enduring, enjoying, oh god, enduring, oh god, my nipples, oh god my nipples!

Why? How? Why had they gone for my nipples? These flies: One or three at first, and now in tens, they were crawling and then flying off from, before returning to the lovely soft complexion of my thighs and, oh god my nipples, my nipples, oh please god my nipples!

How? Why? As I clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip-clopped along with the flies buzzing around me and crawling on me, I shook my shoulders to make my breast swing: I must try and make my lovely breasts swing so as to get the horrible flies off my nipples, oh god my nipples, my nipples, oh please god my nipples!

How? Why? It did not work. I surreptitiously swung my titties as hard and as quickly as I could, but the flies clearly loved my two-inch-huge diameter areoles, and to my nipples, within milliseconds of my breasts settling to a standard bounce from my deliberately swinging them: settling, my titties settling, to their natural pronounced bounce and pounce, flies were once more crawling all around and over my nipples as I clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip-clopped to where, my nipples, my nipples, oh god my nipples, my nipples, oh please god my nipples! to wherever I was being taken.

Flies were now on my face and threatening my mouth and I must blink to keep them out of my eyes. And flies had discovered, in their tens or grosses, had discovered, oh no, oh please no, had discovered, no, no, please, please no, had discovered, no, no, no, no, had discovered, no, no, please, no, no, no, no, had discovered, NO, had discovered, no, and covered no, no, uncovered depilated and unprotected, no, no, no, no, they vectored onto my, my, no, my no, no, my, my, my, my no, no, my, my pod!! My, my, my, no, no, no, no, my, my, my, my pod!!!

Torment, total torment: torment almost beyond torture. The flies were driving me out of my mind as they crawled on my face and my lips and my eyelids, and my nipples and my shaven naked minx. They zigzagged up and down the lips of my minx driving me insane with desire. They were arousing me. Despite all the filthy dirtiness of it, they were arousing and had aroused my poor nipples and were making my pod ooze.

It was disgusting and horrible. I was behaving in a manner disgracing and devaluing the depiction description 'animal'. I just could not help it. The awful flies were tormenting me to lust; and my body, rather than fighting the disgustingly foul, was excited and aroused, yes, sexually, truly sexually aroused by my being so downrightly filthily abused.

My swishing swinging tail kept the horrible flies off my swishing buttocks and, correspondingly, where my tail dangled, off the backs of my thighs, and off my calves, but oh heaven and hell how I longed that my tail could get the taunting haunting tantalising tormenting flies off my pod, off the nude shaven petals of my lovely virgin's tight lipped purse, off my maiden's minx!

But even then, the lubrication of my love-lips caused by the taunting teasing crawling flies, seemed also to lubricate the sexy-devil-width-wide my bum swung as I clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clopped, being led like the animal my body was betraying me to portray, as much if not more than my bondage could persuade, off the courtyard area to open grassed ground.

I say 'grassed ground'. Through my sin-inducing-deep-brown eyes, my eyelids flicking as I tried to waft-off the devil's own flies, even in my tormented tortured degraded depraved deeply shamingly aroused state, I saw a circle without more than the odd tuft of grass, worn scored by constant footfall, and some kind of post with an arm horizontally leading out from its top

Alena dragged me on my lead rein clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop onto the grass, and then, knowing the routine of course from years of training ponygirls, tethered my lead rein to the arm that came out of the upright post, leaving me thus standing on the worn circular path I had noticed as she forced me to clip, clop, clip, clop, out to where we now were.

"You will learn to walk, trot, run, and display-leg", Alena told me completely coldly.

"You will NOT kick your legs out sideways as you run, like some silly frightened little bitch of a schoolgirl. You will run rhythmically with your pretty legs straight fore and aft."

Why had Alena told me that? Alena knew I was a practiced runner; not a young girl who had had no training in how to run properly: properly for an athlete that is.

The cameragirls had caught up with us. All I could assume was that Alena was playing to some kind of script in which my subjugation featured, and they wanted to make it seem as if I needed more training to run than in reality I did. Yet they were supposed to be filming what was really happening! It would remain an unresolved conundrum, why I should be told not to kick my legs out sideways, as, uncorrected, a girl's natural construction makes her do when she runs.

Alena now strolled casually over to the central pole, and, even in the midst of the tormenting flies crawling all over my sexual parts, or perhaps because the flies were arousing me so much; I admired her shapely bottom in the tight jeans she wore. Her breasts moved within her gingham shirt as if they must, yes as if they were, no, because they were, because they had, no, because she wore no brassiere.

Alena looked at me momentarily as she bent to pick something up, as she bent showing cleavage in her wonderfully soft white bosom. I concluded she was enjoying teasing me with the loveliness of her shapely horny body, as I watched in horror when she picked up a whip and some kind of radio or the like, but seemed to linger overlong, beyond even the longest time surely needed, in doing so.

At the sight of the whip, I clenched my buttocks on the sphincter-penetrating dildo that held my tail in me.

"Well might you flinch you filthy little whore!" Alena hissed with the venom of an asp.

"If you ever, and I mean ever, look at me again like you did just then, when I was over in the centre, I will, believe me, I will whip you, you fucking slag!"

I dropped my eyes to the ground in instant total trembling fear-filled fear-fuelled surrender.

So, I hoped, so I could not be seen doing so, I did my best to look out of the corners of my gorgeous brown eyes at the terrible whip Alena held. I recognised, from the old-fashioned films I used to love on TV, a carriage whip. I recognised the long handle and longer flagellum of a carriage whip, and felt an instant sexy gasp escape me, partly because the murderously abundant crawling flies on my now distended nipples and the lips of my naked pod were so stimulating, making me seep like a slut, and because a flash of the opening sequence in the film 'Belle De Jour', where the carriage bells jingle and jingle till the girl, oh god, the girl, oh no, oh, no, the girl, she, the girl is dragged off, dragged into the woods: she, the girl is dragged off into the woods, and tied up and the girl, she, the girl, tied up and, and, and whipped, oh god, my fly smothered purse was all but dribbling my cognac as I recalled how I had almost masturbated watching that scene.

Whatever Alena had picked up in addition to the whip, she now pressed a button on, and I heard a heavy buzz before I began to be dragged and was having to walk, as the arm from the central post was pulling on the lead rein by which I was hitched to its farthest end. The central post must have had a motor fitted as it now rotated and thus forced me to wiggle-walk with my bottom beating out the teasing torment sensation-temptation of the very devil herself, as I swung my rear like a toreador's cape, but more excitingly invitingly than any red rag before a revengeful bull rage-full.

"Give the little slut seven hours to ease her in" I heard Fabrina suggest.

And with just that phrase it was decreed without any consideration whatsoever of me, that I must walk around the circle I circled, dragged by the arm from the rotating central post of that training device, for that is what it was, a ponygirl trainer, for the next seven, yes no less than seven long hours!

No. No, of course it was not as simple as that. Alena stayed with me. Initially, Alena stayed with me.

Alena sipped her water within my sight clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop.

Alena raised her white parasol as the sun got higher in the sky and beat down on my nude body, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop.

"Get your feet up you lazy slut!" she would shout, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop.

Around and around, and endlessly around the central pole I wiggled my enticingly excitingly succulently supremely sexy body, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop at a fast walk, flexing my gorgeous legs at every step

The heat beat, the flies swarmed, my eyes closed as the flies crawled over my eyelids, my mouth was dry and filthy as flies tickled my lovely lips, and crawled, yes they even crawled onto my tongue, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop.

And the flies were driving me insane as, "Get your feet up you fucking whore!" as they danced on my nipples and zigzagged wandered all over my super-sensitive sex, trying to get inside me, "Get those fucking feet up you filthy slag!" clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop.

"Get your feet up you idle bitch!" the voice was different; Fabrina had taken over: clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop.

I knew that this would go on for endless hours. I was a fit girl but……….

But then I heard a terrible scream!………. clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop. A shiver went down my lovely curved spine and I came back from the strange auto-pilot clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop with which I continued to circle.

"Get those fucking feet UP you fucking idle bitch!" Clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, the scream again!

For two whole hours, punctuated by a horrible scream from some poor girl, a ponygirl know doubt, I was made to walk at a brisk pace around and around the central pole on the warn path in the grass, where so many ponygirls must have had to walk as I was, before me.

For two whole hours I suffered either Fabrina or Alena's abuse. For two whole hours I suffered the purgatory of the obscene things the creeping crawling flies were doing to me.

"On order Midnight-Pearl trot", Fabrina called, "I say 'trot': Midnight-Pearl trot! Midnight-Pearl trot with the back straight. Midnight-Pearl lift pretty leg every time so Midnight-Pearl knee at level with top of lovely bum. If Midnight-Pearl not good trot, Midnight-Pearl made hurt with naughty whip" she concluded dismissively, insulting my intelligence, and as if a whipping was of no consequence, as indeed it was of no consequence for her.

Fabrina pressed the button on what was obviously a remote control, and the rotator speeded, as therefore must I. My gorgeous powerful supremely shapely legs must now work like pistons to obey the order that I trot in the way a ponygirl must learn to trot, even though it is not entirely natural. My gorgeous legs speeded me, clipclop clipclop clipclop clipclop clipclop.

I feared the whip. I was terrified I would be whipped. I jogged my lovely long legs and juddered my huge titties as I beat the ground with my newly pony-shoe shod hooves.

"That good girl! Midnight-Pearl good girl! Midnight-Pearl clever girl" Fabrina called to me, though a hint in her voice was more of despair that I was really bad, and she was merely trying another tactic to her preferred one, that of abusing me.

I could not believe my ears. Suddenly I preened with pride. I was being subjected to the degrading torture of being made to perform like a human horse, and yet suddenly I felt pride that I had received praise.

I trotted round and round and round and round, my heart pumping and with my pride, yes pride at having been praised for my trotting ability, that pride showing in my eyes.

"She is good. Don't you think she is good?" I heard Fabrina query of, I assumed, a returned Alena.

"Good? She's fucking lousy and you know it…………" then, as a bye-the-bye, "By the way, Night-Breeze has had her foal weaned", Alena replied.

I trotted obediently around and around and around listening, as the two older women talked as if I were not there or, even if acknowledged to be there, as if I were of no consequence.

"Night-Breeze could go to the plough now of course, but we have a shortage on the production side. I've detailed Selina and Jonquil, let them off classes for a while, to hitch Ice-Queen to the gig, and take Night-Breeze's foal to the ponygirl nursery", Alena quietly confirmed informatively for Fabrina's half-listening ears, whilst she, Alena, half-watched me trot round and round and round.

Now I knew the reasons for the screams of pain I had heard: some poor girl had had her child taken away: this was the commonplace of the pony-farm. That is why it can be described so glibly. A girl had had her child taken from her.

There was a pause in the conversation of the two women as I trotted endlessly round and round and round…

Then, just as casually, Fabrina asked in a voice that said that of course she knew Alena would have taken care of the problem, but just wondered, in order to tuck away a loose end in her briefing: "What about the ploughing?"

"Oh: Koala-Bare of course. She needs a damned good whipping that girl. Pulling the plough will do her the world of good".

No more was said for a good five minutes as I trotted, straight-backed, lifting my lovely thighs horizontal with each step, around and round and around and round the central post, the horizontal arm from which I was securely tethered to the end of by my mouth bit.

"Lunch?" enquired Alena of Fabrina, as Fabrina momentarily looked away from inspecting me, and slowly shaking her head in despair at my performance.

Fabrina turned to look at me again, as I trotted endlessly around and around and around. With eyes not really seeing let alone studying what she saw, she daydream-watched me picking up my superb legs, flashing my folded legs with their beautiful strong muscularity, curving my compelling calves, thunder in my thighs, as I trotted as ordered and as compelled by the machine, around, and around and around, and she saw without seeing, because it was nothing unusual to see, certainly nothing unusual for her to see: she watched the flies crawling all over me, she watched as they buzzed away from my obviously excited nipples, to either re-settle and feast some more on my judder jodder jigger joggering sweaty breasts, as they bounced in unison whilst I trot-trot-trotted, or to join the hundreds of their compatriots who, to an eye easily deceived, gave me the appearance of having re-grown my pubic hair, so thickly had they congregated and so keenly were they nudging and jostling each other to get a taste of the lovely secretion from my pod. And she watched too, as continuing to obediently trot, around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around, I pissed like an animal. Even whilst I trotted around and around and around, I was publicly openly copiously pissing: pissing like an animal.

"Lunch! Yes! Good idea!" Fabrina replied.

………………

Lunch was leisurely. Why should it not be, I was well taken care of. I trotted around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around for two solid hours and more. In fact, I myself had no idea from other than the fact that the sun had gone overhead, what time of day it was.

The two women were laughing giggling and snorting with lovely laughter, from some private joke as they casually sauntered over to where I was still obeying my order to trot.

"You fucking slut!" Alena shouted at me: "Get your fucking knees up!

"UP I said!!"

"Get your knees UP you idle bitch!!"

I was nearly dropping with exhaustion and Alena knew it: she full well knew it. I had been trotting for two-and-a-half hours non-stop.

This was the bitter part of my training. This was when I was to have my lesson driven into me. This was where the border between Emma Bronwyn Jones, the girl, and Midnight-Pearl, the ponygirl lay. This was the point at which I could begin to be broken.

I trotted around and around and around and around and around now Alena began to crack the whip behind me to remind me who my mistresses were and what my place in the world was.

Around and around and around and around and around I trotted exhausted, beyond exhaustion, with the carriage whip cracking behind my obscenely swinging bottom every time I showed even the slightest sign of a sign of a sign that I might slacken.

Around and around and around and around and around I trotted. They were going to drive me into the ground in order to teach me my place: in order to break me, I was to be exhausted beyond exhaustion's exhaustion.

Around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around I obediently trotted: "Get those fucking knees up you filthy slag!!" Fabrina cursed and the whip cracked.

Around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around I trotted and then I stumbled "Get going you slag!" Alena shouted, "Get fucking going!"

I tried: I tried to move my lovely legs. I was being dragged around by the machine, the flies crawled all over my breasts and my nipples not least, and were feasting, literally feasting on the tightly in-tucked in-curving luscious lips of my virgin pod, as I was dragged along around the circle having fainted from exhaustion in the searing heat of the Spanish mid-afternoon.

I came around to the splash of two buckets of cold water over my nakedness as I was still being dragged around by the training machine.

I came around in darkness. They had put a hood over my head. I could see nothing. "Trot you fucking whore!" Alena shouted and cracked her whip behind my body. I found, from somewhere, god know where, I found some reserve some last drop of adrenalin perhaps, that got me once more trotting around and around and around and around once more. "Keep going you slag!"

How I managed it I do not know, but, being taught by the blindfold bag over my head that I must quite literally learn blind obedience, I trotted around and around and around and around and around for half-an-hour or forty-five-minutes more, till I fainted and fell again.

…………..

Another douche from cold water brought my fly-crawled-over body back into the realisation of how hot the sun was. I was lying on the ground. The hood had been taken off my head. They were playing cold water over me from a hose.

I instinctively rose to my hoofed feet, my head hanging knowing I must have disappointed.

"Useless! Totally useless! She's a slag! She's a totally useless fucking slag!" Fabrina hissed in despair at Alena, whose resigned look confirmed she shared the view expressed even without need of it being expressed.

"Seven fucking hours wasted! She's no idea! After seven fucking useless hours, she's no idea how to walk properly; her trotting is abysmal, and she's yet to run let alone learn how to display-leg!!" Fabrina stomped a foot down in anger and disappointment.

"How the fuck are we ever going to get this totally useless bitch up to the standards little Miss Ryan will want, and has every right to expect in her pony?

"We've had tougher jobs" Alena tried to sympathise.

"Like what?!" Fabrina snapped back in an instant of fully surfaced frustration and anger.

"Well: like Flamenco-Firefly" Alena proposed.

"As you damned well know, Flamenco-Firefly, was an animal, or as near as, when she arrived. To break a girl so close to nature in the first place was easy. She had a lot of spirit I grant you. This one's got no stamina: no stamina at all. Flamenco-Firefly would be on the trainer for twelve and fourteen hours and still be going strong…….." Fabrina countered.

Tempers were clearly growing shorter as the women despaired over my breaking and training and lack of staying-power.

"Yes Fabrina, yes, but if you'll recall, if indeed you can be troubled for one single simple moment to be bothered to recollect, we had to give Flamenco-Firefly ten lashes across her cunt to initially break the stubborn bitch!!" Alena shouted.

"Sorry! Sorry! You're right. Sorry", Fabrina whispered, holding up a flat hand palm of peace to Alena.

There was a pause: a silence in which both women wanted to apologise to each other for my causing their anger and frustration.

"Anyway it was nine" Fabrina whispered.

"Nine what?" Alena asked, before immediately realising how silly her question was, and both women thereafter ended up laughing that two such close friends should have been falling out over a mere ponygirl…………..

School being over for the day, Hai Moon and Kim Kai were running enthusiastically up to take me back to the stables.

"Gaynor is coming by tonight by the way", Fabrina said.

"We'll have a talk about this one then: with Gaynor too I mean" Alena prompted.

"Sounds good to me" Fabrina laughed, putting a loving arm around her friend as they left me in the care of my stable-girls.

………………

To say that I was exhausted would not be to even scratch the surface for a suitable depiction of my state, as Kim Kai took my lead rein and I clip clopped behind the two lovely little Chinese dolls.

The fear I now knew, knew no relaxation in the presence of these seeming angels, my pretty little stable-girls, now either. Had I not witnessed Hai Moon brutalising Koala-Bare as she rode her, whipping Koala-Bare and driving her vicious spurs into poor Koala-Bare's thighs?

Then, as I wiggled submissively along on the end of the lead tether, Kim Kai loosely held, I realised that I did not know the names of these girls. No, not my stable-girls… But let us start with them. In admitting that these, Kim Kai and Hai Moon were my stable-girls, I was accepting my relative position wasn't I? And in knowing the other girls in the other stalls only as 'Laser-Dance' or 'Flamenco Firefly' or 'Calypso-Canter' was I not, oh it was so horrible to have to admit, but was I not accepting that they were ponygirls and had no other existence other than as 'Laser-Dance', 'Flamenco Firefly', and 'Calypso-Canter'? And where did that leave me? Surely, oh god, surely, oh hell and heaven, surely it could only mean that I was accepting, or at least beginning to accept that I was, relative to Kim Kai, Hai Moon and the girls in the stalls, that I was and only now existed as 'Midnight-Pearl'?

I clip clopped back onto the cobbles of the pony-farm's stable area, the flies that had taunted and teased me all day, continuing to crawl all over my sweaty body and my filthy sweaty piss-smelly pod in particular.

Kim Kai tethered me to the stable wall in the outside air once more and I experienced next, the most wonderful event to date of my captivity. I was being sprayed with warm water by Kim Kai. As Hai Moon was using a sponge soaked in soft soap to wash me down, I was being given a shower. I was in heaven, as they shampooed my hair and at long last washed the wicked flies off my breasts and from around my sex.

Now I was being blown dry, hair and body, and my hair was being brushed and combed, my lovely dark short negress' curls were being combed and brushed. This was bliss! This was total and absolute bliss. Now they were massaging my lovely long legs, and treating my aches with the horse-liniment that was so relaxing to my tired, tired, lower limbs.

My post exercise treatment over, Hai Moon led me to my stall. I was almost too exhausted to feel it as she pulled out my tail. I would certainly be unable to escape any distance, so extremely enervated was I, as they took out my bit.

My mouth freed just for a while from the vile bit, I wiggled over to the trough within my stall the instant my bit was removed, and risked another girl demanding that such lovely lips not be wasted on other than a luscious kiss, as I pouted my gorgeous constant-kiss-provoking negress' lips to suck up the water, I was so completely desperate for, so extremely dehydrated had I become after seven and more hours in the sun.

I heard sobs.

And then I ate from my manger.

I heard sobs.

I took hungry mouthful after eager mouthful of the bran, the warm steaming sweet-smelling hot water liquidised bran that was in my manger.

I heard more sobs.

I was so hungry. I was famished. I licked my manger! I actually completely emptied and animally licked the bottom and sides of my manger with my pink pointy-ended love-luring tongue, degradingly desperately, I was still so hungry.

I heard yet more sobs.

Kim Kai poured something new in my manger as I sucked up more water with my commandingly delicious lips. I returned to my manger, and bent over it, thereby showing my naked shaven pod to the young stable-girls, who were giggling shyly as they became excited at the sight. I eagerly ate and chewed what Kim Kai had dumped in my manger, even though I knew it contained fresh grass: grass being, of course, the key component in the diet of a ponygirl. Now I knew what had been the 'secret ingredient' in the food that Alena had fed me at the university: grass!

I heard more sobs.

I drank more water, and then wiggled back to my manger to eat more grass, and as I wiggled between water trough and manger, I was pissing like an animal. I gave it no thought. I gave no thought to the fact that that very morning I had nearly wretched-up my bile watching the other ponygirls urinate like animals, and now here I was walking around on the straw lining the bottom of my stall, so tired that I was just pissing, I wiggle-walked around my stall my urine hissing even as I walked. I walked peeing on the straw floor of my stall as I went: peeing like an animal.

The sobs grew louder.

My hunger thirst and need to urinate satisfied, I became more aware of them.

Having watched me slake my thirst and sate my hunger, Kim Kai moved in to brush my teeth, and put a fresh rubber bit in my mouth. This done, she clipped two lead reins, one to each of the hoops at each end of my bit, and fastened the chains that ran from these lead reins to ready hoops firmly fixed to the sidewalls of my stall.

The chains were short and I could not move bar to transfer my all-girl 120 pounds from one lovely leg to the other. I assumed this was temporary and I would later be released to move around or lie down to sleep: and the chance to sleep could not come soon enough: oh for the chance to sleep!

A terrible sob tore the air.

"Why Night-Breeze make much noise so?" Hai Moon asked Kim Kai as Hai Moon gave me what looked like it was, unbelievably since I was chained still standing up, some kind of last check over.

"You no hear? She have foal weaned." Kim Kai answered "Foal taken. Night-Breeze not got foal no more. Foal go nursery. Night-Breeze cry. You double-check me please", Hai Moon asked Kim Kai, who also then looked me over as if in some kind of finality.

"Night-Breeze plenty spare milk now?" Hai Moon speculated matter-of-factly.

"She Noble-Obliger stall tonight. Tomorrow, Night-Breeze go dairy, made be cow-pony" Kim Kai responded distractedly as she inspected my bit.

One of the two cameragirls who had followed me all day, lowered now the all-seeing-eye of her digital 'film' machine, and stretched and yawned.

My two little doll Chinese stable-girls began to go out of the stable to find their own supper, leaving me tightly chained up by my bit, standing in my stall.

"Say!" called the still stretching cameragirl after the receding Kim Kai and Hai Moon, "Ain't one of you pretty chicks gonna let Midnight-Pearl get some shuteye: you know, a lie down?"

Kim Kai and Hai Moon turned around and looked back blank faced.

Thinking my stable-girls had not understood her, the American girl hitherto operating camera, repeated her enquiry, using insulting broken English: "You know! Lie down: go bye-byes, snore, snore!?" putting her hands together like a church steeple, and tipping her head sideways on her held-together hands, as if they were a pillow she was snuggling down upon, to show what she meant.

Kim Kai and Hai Moon still looked blank, then Kim Kai realised the American girl's ignorance. Firstly looking at Hai Moon to see who was going to answer, and getting a 'you go' look, Kim Kai, politely ignoring the strange unenlightenment of the city-born-and-raised cameragirl, quietly responded: "You no see horse in field? Ponygirl is like horse in field: ponygirl sleep standing up!"

"Well: if you say so honey!" the cameragirl concluded as she yawned behind a pretty hand, and then took her sexy companion's hand, before kissing her full on the mouth very lasciviously, directly in front of where I stood experiencing the dawning of the horror that I was expected, as a ponygirl, to sleep standing.

"Food or bed, Julie?" asked the American accented cameragirl of her English sound boom carrying companion.

"Bed of course" laughed Julie, blushing shyly.