Midnight-Pearl

'Midnight-Pearl' (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 8 – The Palace

As I continued to run as ordered through my tit-reins, pulling the Giggle, the girl-gig, with my cunt, I felt both my beautiful breasts being tugged, and I immediately obediently slowed to a trot, then my left breast was repeatedly tugged. Through the long reins Princess Astrid controlled her pony by: controlled me by, the fourteen-year-old pouting princess was pulling on the left of the loop formed by the carriage rein and thus pulling on my left tit-rein and thus tugging my beautiful left breast repeatedly to tell me to turn left.

Midnight-Pearl obeyed the order it was being given through the pulling-up of its left tit: I obeyed the order given me through the pulling-up of my left breast: I pulled the Giggle into an open field. As I trotted pulling the Giggle with my cunt, I was hauling my three passengers on a shortcut back to the pony-farm.

From the passenger seat of the Giggle, the bench seat behind the driver, Alena and Fabrina surveyed my savagely whipped buttocks and, unseen by the princess who was driving, raised their eyebrows in dismay at the sight of the site of the terrible and unnecessary cruelty the princess had meted out to me with the carriage whip. Flies were crawling in their hundreds on my bleeding whip welts.

I was a river of perspiration as I hauled the Giggle back onto the path returning us to the stables. A single tug on both my breasts told me to slow to the walk, and I obeyed.

I was a river of perspiration covered in crawling tickling licking sucking flies, and covered with sacrificial blood. I had been whipped brutally severely, and my cunt still bled from the tearing of my hymen when I had been impaled on the penis-coupling: the penis-coupling still buried its full eighteen inches within me as I wiggled my walk, swishing the tail sweeping upward parabolically from the dildo in my anus, and then dangling down.

Kim Kai and Hai Moon tried not to show their horror as they uncoupled me. The princess and my two mistresses had dismounted and left to discuss business. I howled with the pain as Hai Moon undid the rear fixings of the crupper chain from my waspie, and the eighteen-inch long two-inch diameter penis-coupling slid out of my still very aroused but no-longer intact no longer virgin minx.

A horse-blanket was thrown over my naked body, to keep me warm as I sweated, and I was led to the stable yard, before having the horrible diamond-knurled Giggle-bit that had made my mouth and tongue bleed, removed.

Ordinarily I would have welcomed the warm shower and hair wash I was now given, if only because it rid me, albeit very temporarily, of the accursed flies; but the soap stung my whip welts horribly. However I welcomed the horse-liniment as it warmed my leg-muscles wonderfully.

My whip stripes were bathed with ointment and Kim Kai cooed to me: "Bwave ickle pwoney" as I winced when she pulled out my tail and smoothed the cool cream over the dream of my curvy bottom, now ridged by throbbing stinging welts.

The same cream was used on my mouth lips, where the Giggle-bit had torn them. I then, after I had been allowed to drink water with my supremely succulent negress' lips - I was extremely thirsty - had a rubber mouth bit fitted, and jingle-jangle clip-clopped to my stall to be tied standing, to sleep.

And I slept! For the first time since my abduction, I slept throughout the whole dark night.

…………….

I was awoken before the five-o'-clock switching-on of the stable lights, by a terrible gagged-scream of pain. Moments later, the smell of fresh scorched flesh met my nostrils.

Once released from my sleeping stance by Hai Moon, I ate lightly. I was drinking water from my trough and pissing at the same time, when poor Flamenco-Firefly was led back in.

I could smell the horrible smell that told all we ponygirls, that Flamenco-Firefly had just been branded. A raw red, sore red oval was now deeply impressed in her lovely left buttock, near her back's base, and within the evil oval were the initials: 'HSS-AR'. Like me, Flamenco-Firefly had also been given to Her Supreme Serenity the Princess Astrid Riento.

That morning, in the stable yard, my armpits and legs were shaved by my stable girls, and more ointment put on my whip stripes. Perhaps as a reward for the torture I had endured the previous day though, I was not put to any arduous training but, once I had been coated with sunscreen, allowed to wander the farm. Fences were high and electrified; there was no risk of my escape. Anyway, I could only just manage to walk. My whipped buttocks swung like hell and stung like hell and my buttock muscles were exceptionally stiff after my whipping.

I wondered as I wandered clip-clop around the main cobbled farmyard. Even though I had been reduced to the status of an animal, I retained my human curiosity. I also combined that curiosity with both an animal and human awareness that I must not risk being caught where I had no right to be.

In fact, of course, as I was constantly bound with my arms outstretched as if I was crucified, and was covered with decorative bells that tinkled and jingled constantly, I was hardly equipped for secrecy in any mission I might try to undertake.

It was in these meanderings that I learned what a comparatively lucky girl I was.

The double doors at the end of a large long barn were open. Pretty schoolgirls were wheeling out soiled straw. One would have called the girls with the wheelbarrows full of 'girlnure' stable-girls, save that I was pretty sure that there were but two ponygirl stable-blocks on the pony-farm, and this long low building was not one of them.

In fact, where I was held captive was an expansion of the original intention of the farm Gaynor and Fabrina had set up with Gaynor's inheritance. They, Gaynor and Fabrina, joined later by Alena, who had also sunk money into the project, had originally intended to concentrate solely on Girlponyculture. They had intended only to capture train and sell ponygirls. The idea of breeding from a bull-ponygirl, such as Javelin, had been Alena's. The logical literal offspring, or rather offshoot from this, that cow-ponies be kept and a dairy thus set up, had followed as night day or day night.

Alena had suggested the winery. She had prompted her partners to consider the importance of diversification. The mares born through the breeding took the best part of thirteen years to arrive at puberty combined with a semblance of maturity, and even then, needed two or three years before they were saleable ponies. A risky gap needed bridging.

Fabrina had originally suggested agriculture using the girlnure. Alena had never been too happy with that proposal but, as the junior partner, since she was the latecomer to the partnership, had gone along with it.

Agriculture was never going to be profitable in Alena's view, and she had not been wrong. Nonetheless, the pony-farm still had four ponygirls, put to the plough to prepare the growth of such as maize to feed the stabled ponygirls such as myself and the cow-ponies and girlwine ponies, and lend this and other elements of self-sufficiency to the enterprise, by for example, also being used to pull the mowers that produced the fresh-cut grass that was the main staple of the ponygirls' diets, as well as harvesting the maize and such as oilseed rape when the crops matured. All this kept the bills for feeding the animals, the ponygirls, down and the profits of the farm correspondingly up.

The plough-ponies were also income earners, because they were loaned out to neighbouring farms during the ploughing seasons, but their produce, the produce from the fields they ploughed on this particular farm, was not sold off the farm but used on it.

The plough-ponies were particularly popular with the local timber-merchant, who regularly hired them to haul logs around his yard and to pull loaded carts of prepared wood to the local rail-sidings.

Alena's insistence on a winery had finally won through though. The winery was now, in fact, the biggest and most profitable part of the farm. This being so, it would be more appropriate to call my location a girl-farm, strictly speaking, rather than a pony-farm or a ponygirl farm.

I was shooed away. I gave my presence away with the jingle-jangle that the fright from the sight through the end-doors of the winery gave me. I had never realised just how many girls there were on the farm. I would guess that I would not be wrong to guess that there were fifty lovely young women in the winery.

I only caught a glimpse before I was spotted and shooed off, but my eyes burned a photograph on my mind of what I saw. The poor girls were kneeling in cage boxes. There were rows of open-ended-front-and-back square wooden compartments lined with straw. The girls were naked and had had their hair cut to ragged stubble. They knelt on the straw in their box with their wrists tied up to the rear of the box. The boxes were on top of one another: there were two rows of girls in the boxes, about twenty-five in the bottom row, and the same number in the one on top of the bottom row.

I can only assume they had had their heads short shorn for hygiene purposes; but the sale of their hair for wig making or similar cannot be ruled out. In fact, as I was to learn later, they were being regularly shorn like sheep; so these girls were also being farmed for their hair!

The individual girls were in a tangle of tubes. I only saw briefly, but it seemed that some kind of clear thick-glass hopper was above each of the battery boxes, and was dripping yellowish water into the girls' mouths via a tube pushed through a hole in a gag they each wore. Another tube came from a cup over their cunts, and they were obviously peeing into what looked like more glass hoppers. Apart from when they were fed, they clearly had to live all day, all week, all year like this and, their urination having been taken careful care of, to defecate out of the back of their boxes.

Whilst I dare stare, I watched frozen in horror, as one girl had the empty glass hopper from which she had swallowed all the contents, replaced by the one into which she had peed; and the hopper she had drunk empty, put so the tube from her cunt would eventually fill it with her piss once more.

A numbered wheel next the drinking hopper for this girl was then rotated to show '5', and I realised that what she now had to drink was the fourth or fifth recycle of her own pee. The poor girl was being made to act as a still, drinking and re-drinking her pee until it was of the thickness and quality for which the farm was famed: until it was 'super-strong girlwine'.

Next to her a very attractive blonde, to judge from her hair stubble and eyebrows, had a good two-gallons of fresh water to drink to start the cycle, and the counter against her drink hopper read '1': so I realised that the counter must refer to the piss produced rather than the piss being drunk.

It occurred to me that these girls must menstruate and, as happens with girls who cohabit for long spells, it was likely that their monthly periods would have begun to coincide. My flash question was answered in a millisecond, when I spotted filled bottles: clear glass ones labelled 'Circle6 Super-Strong White' and fewer green glass bottles labelled: 'Circle6 Super-Strong Red'. 'Circle6' seemed to be a brand-name.

Shooed away from the winery I found something even more horrifying. In a new venture, girls were being prepared for meat. I do not mean that girls were being fed meat. I mean that girls were being kept on the farm with the full intention that they eventually be slaughtered and sold as meat.

Thank goodness I witnessed none of what was going on in that venture. All I saw was a building the size of the winery, with a board above the closed doors reading: 'Circle6 Girlmeat - brought to you by the "Pure Girl" people'. Believe me, I trotted my lovely 120 pounds of pure girl as far away from that particular shed as I could.

In a previous chapter I raised the assumption that such as this could not be true. My raising it that way at that time, shows exactly how my mind worked in regard to the matter. I could not accept it. I could not admit that it was possible. My sight of this building finally forced my subconscious to yield and stop shielding me from the terrible truth.

The school had also been Alena's idea. The 'Equine School De Española' was founded upon Alena's promise, therefore a university professor's promise, to remain its titular head.

It was a girls-only fee-paying establishment, but fees were reduced if the girls volunteered to work on the farm. Most of the girls were pony fanatics. So, here was another symbiotic relationship: the school provided high-class education: the girl-farm provided practice in girlponyculture, dairy work with cow-ponies, agriculture with plough-ponies, a girlwinery, and, unfortunately, the raising of ponygirl livestock for meat. And all the assistance from the schoolgirls was 'free' insofar as they were paid nothing directly, and the part of their school fee foregone in recognition of assistance on the farm, was never greater than the profit element within the full price school fee.

As I meandered around the farm, I saw Flamenco-Firefly, the freshly branded Flamenco-Firefly being led out of the farrier's workshop. Flamenco-Firefly wore all the gold rings I now did. Her gorgeous arms were stretched out cruciform by a gold cangue, and she had had her neck giraffed.

This was horrible to see, but I sensed a happiness about Flamenco-Firefly as she clip-clopped at the end of a rein wielded by Gaynor. I immediately spotted the probable course for Flamenco-Firefly's recovered contentment, despite the fresh pain of her brand and her arms being stretched out as if she was crucified: Flamenco-Firefly was menstruating. Flamenco-Firefly had not missed her period. Flamenco-Firefly was happy because she was pretty sure that Javelin had not made her pregnant.

My time at loose leisure was short. It appeared I had been let loose a while, because Alena and Fabrina had business to attend to. It concerned Alena's acceptance as a lecturer at a local university: she having already resigned from full time work at the English one I had been abducted from. This business sorted, Fabrina collected me and attached me by my lead rein to the exercise machine I had been broken-in on.

Flamenco-Firefly was already tethered to the bar that through the central motor caused one to have to walk or trot in a circle. A different bar had been fitted. This one could have two ponygirls tethered to it. Instead of an inverted 'L' coming up from the motor and central pole, there was now a 'T', and I was tethered by my rubber mouth bit to the other arm of the 'T' to Flamenco-Firefly's: the arm one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees from the sensationally attractive sixteen-year-old Gypsy girl.

The simple order, "Walk" found us both obeying without even the need of the motor being turned on to make us move. We were being walked, Flamenco-Firefly and I, purely for light exercise.

Flamenco-Firefly needed to get used to her cruciform cangue, her giraffed neck, her brutal branding, and the dreadful bells that hung, as with mine, from her fingers, her ears, her nose, her lower mouth lip, and her arms, including from her top eyelids. For my part, I was being made to walk to loosen my stiffness after my whipping.

The degree to which we were both broken as ponygirls can be illustrated perhaps by the fact that, as well as us not requiring the motor to make us obey and order to walk, as we began to walk in a circle in obedience of that order, Flamenco-Firefly was openly unselfconsciously pissing, and yet I walked on over where she had pissed without any show of disgust or the slightest reluctance, thus demonstrating my acceptance that I was merely an animal now.

……………

The weeks passed. My whip wounds had healed. I had returned to trotting and running on the exercise trainer. I had also been left with Flamenco-Firefly for a whole day in an open field, and we had trotted and run around together, even without mistresses to order us to do so.

I was beginning to find that I needed to avoid Flamenco-Firefly's lovely eyes. The way she looked at me, at my gorgeous body, made me feel very strange in my tummy: the way I had felt meeting Alena the day I had woken up in Alena's flat, indeed in Alena's bed.

Don't get me wrong. I liked, I even loved Flamenco-Firefly looking at me, and I thought her absolutely astoundingly gorgeous. She was only sixteen. She was incredibly shapely, fit, firm, and lithe. I could go on for hours about how lovely she was……… I was only two years older than her of course, but I did not want to lead her on. I felt some responsibility as the older pony… I mean the older girl.

Loneliness, extreme loneliness had been our lot ever since our abduction. Contact with another pony… I mean another girl of course, would have meant an end to loneliness for the pair of us.

I was not playing 'hard-to-get', I was just being cautious for us both. All I wanted was to communicate, but Flamenco-Firefly seemed such a randy little firebrand I feared she was after more than I was willing, let alone able, to give. I did not want to encourage what I was pretty sure she was after. But I had no way, with both of our mouths constantly gagged with bits; I had no way for me to say 'lets just be friends'.

…………….

It was difficult to get us on the four-wheeled cart. With our arms stretched out as if we were crucified, it was a problem to get Flamenco-Firefly and I on the cart that was going to take us to the Queendom of **********.

I was clip-clop clip-clop clomp, clomp, clomp, ting, ting, jingle-jangled up the wooden ramp first. As the canvas canopy that formed an inverted 'U' over the vehicle did not have an outstretched-arms-width between its sides, I had to stand sideways once aboard. With a jingle jangle jingle of all her more newly fitted bells, Flamenco-Firefly joined me and faced my way: we faced each other.

The farrier was to do the driving. She slid the planks we had clomped up, onto to the back of the four-cart-wheel wagon she had loaded us onto, and then lifted shut, and put securing pins through, to hold the tailgate up where she had closed it.

We, Flamenco-Firefly and I, were under the inverted 'U' of canvas, held up by inverted 'U' steel frames, but with no canvas back or front cover, so that a cool breeze blew on our lovely bodies as we stood. And as we stood, face-to-face, I was already casting down my eyes to avoid Flamenco-Firefly's blatant stare at my gorgeous face.

With our necks painfully stiffly giraffed, neither of us could avoid but to look at each other.

Close-up Flamenco-Firefly was a joy of nature. Surely no more wonderfully beautiful sixteen-year-old girl had ever been witnessed by a world that should have got down on its knees to worship her.

I tried to get my mind on other things. I had noticed that we were to be pulled by Koala-Bare and another plough-pony I had not seen or heard of before: a raven-haired Spanish girl with very profuse wildly widespread curly pubic hair. She was called 'Jungle-Dream'. Koala-Bare and Jungle-Dream were bent forward like the letter 'L', and were fastened to the cart by leather yokes on their shoulders: yokes through the middles of which their lovely heads poked. They wore steel mouth bits, and the blacksmith had both their reins.

This bent-over-at-the-waist 'L' position was the one Koala-Bare and Jungle-Dream were used to for all the heavy haulage and ploughing they were employed upon. They had worked as a team before taking wood from the timber-yard to the train sidings. The driver only had to tug the reins, and thus the bit in the mouth of the ponygirl on her right or her left, for both ponies to know they were being ordered to move in the direction of the girl whose mouth had been tugged.

I would have been delighted to have seen the beautiful legs of these statuesque girls as they had to put their lovely shoulders hard to their yokes and tense their calf and thigh muscles to start us rolling on our way, but that was not to be my privilege.

"Gidduppyaa!" the gentle-cruel blacksmith ordered Jungle-Dream and Koala-Bare, as she gently smacked the cart's reins on Koala-Bare and Jungle-Dream's bent backs: and moments later we began our slow heavy way to the Spanish border with the Queendom of **********.

The farrier must have been completely mesmerised as she watched the gently grinding swinging roll of Koala-Bare and Jungle-Dream's round smooth sweating buttocks and swinging tails, as their fabulous legs pulled us slowly but surely and, of course, completely obediently along our two-mile way.

I did not want it to happen, but in the instant of our moving, Flamenco-Firefly was rubbing her nose gently against mine. As we both wore mouth bits, it was the only way in which she could 'kiss' me.

I wanted the 'kiss'; who would not want a kiss from such a beautiful girl? Now she began to rub her wonderfully firm pert breasts on mine, and I felt my nipples flicker with excitement. I could not shake my head to tell her 'no', so I tried to say it with my eyes. She instantly understood and felt the rejection add to her loneliness, and began to cry. As she saw my rejection of her forwardness from my eyes, Flamenco-Firefly began to cry: and so did I for having hurt her.

I did not want to hurt the feelings of this lovely creature. As best I could with my giraffed neck and a rubber bit firmly in my mouth, I put my soft left face cheek against hers and gently caressed her cheek-to-cheek, and she sobbed and then began to giggle with joy at the 'human' contact we had made despite our bonds.

And I rubbed noses with her to thank her for her lovely giggles, giggles that reverberated right through her superb body. And we rested our heads, such as we could with our necks giraffed, we rested our lovely faces against each other and, with our wonderful naked girl-sensitive bodies pressing against each other, we felt the comfort of 'human' warmth and Platonic love, as we lurched along in the cart taking us to our new home, with the brutal bells with which our faces were tormented ding-donging in our ears.

……………

Flamenco-Firefly and I were among any number of ponygirls that were strangers to us. We were new in stables new to us too. Kim Kai and Hai Moon were still our stable-girls. They had insisted on coming with me and had agreed to provide for Flamenco-Firefly too. The two-mile journey to school at Gaynor, Fabrina, and Alena's farm, was covered by the omnibuses that ran, literally ran in the case of the six-ponygirls harnessed to pull them, every hour, so they would not miss out on their education.

Compared with the stables on the girl-farm, there was considerable luxury in the stables of the Palace of the Queendom of **********, though much of that luxury, such as marble floors, was necessarily hidden under the straw scattered to catch the ponygirls' piss and droppings.

Of the new ponygirls with stalls near mine: 'Flaxen-Sky' was astonishing. She was a mousy-blonde haired Russian girl, all of six-feet two, with legs as long as the trip to the sun and back. 'Emerald-Smile' was an Irish colleen with corn-blonde hair and the brightest shiniest lightest green eyes I have ever seen. 'Autumn-Leaf' had the most glorious auburn hair. 'Speckled-Hen' was another redhead: she had a profusion of lovely freckles on her very pale, very pretty face.

'Titiana-Titan', a gorgeous negress, had, or course, as you can tell from her name, the most enormous breasts. When Flamenco-Firefly and I arrived at the palace, she was already heavily with foal. Titiana-Titan's potential milk yield was phenomenal, and she was headed for the dairy as soon as she had dropped her foal.

'Sparrow-Hop' was an adorable little thing. She was only fourteen: a brunette, prettier than the proverbial picture. Sparrow-Hop had been born on the palace's farm and raised as a ponygirl since she was just a foal. It is terrible to have to say that her dam (her mother) 'Lula-Lulu', having dried-up after a three-year spell as a cow-pony having her breasts milked twice a day, had long since gone to the slaughterhouse, humanely killed and her lovely body jointed for sale in the girlmeat market.

The palace had its own farm and the ponygirl plough horses were mingled among us rather than being housed separately.

Even after only a short while in my new stables, I was having a problem with a ponygirl called 'Naughty-Nymph'. I seemed to have aroused her jealousy, and had to watch that she did not kick me. I would never normally have indulged such a thing, but she made herself such a threat to me, that I managed to team up with Flamenco-Firefly one morning and, Naughty-Nymph suddenly 'accidentally' fell flat on her tits! I really cannot think how that could have happened! She left me alone after that. I felt sorry for her though. She was obviously very lonely.

There was always a cacophony of ringing, dinging, donging bells in the stables I was in. I am sure there were a hundred ponygirls, ninety-nine and myself. We were all giraffed, with eighteen to twenty gold rings around our necks. We all had our arms held out cruciform. We all wore bells on our ankles, our fingers, our arms, our ears, our noses, our lower mouth lips, and dangling from our upper eyelids: what a musical dingle-ding-dinging there was all day and all night!

Perhaps the palace had too many ponygirls. None of us were neglected, but few of us were fully employed. Perhaps it was policy to keep us fresh. I often spent my days roaming at will in a meadow. So too did Flamenco-Firefly.

Although we could not communicate, we always wore a bit and talking during drinking and feeding would have been punished very severely, Flamenco-Firefly and I had developed an innate understanding, and would exercise by trotting around the field together, side-by-side, and sometimes, when we had a surfeit of energy, by playing 'tit-tag'.

In tit-tag, one of us would chase the other till the ponygirl chasing managed to touch one of her tits on the girl being chased who was trying to avoid the touch. Then the girl who had been chasing was chased in her turn. With our arms tied up as they were, we had to use our tits, as they were our only available front facing protuberances. I called it 'tit-tag', but of course I could not talk to Flamenco-Firefly, so I don't know what name she gave it, or even if she gave it a name at all. We chased each other in naughty and saucy pony play, because we wanted to keep fit and did not want to become bored.

Flies continued to be a dreadful nuisance. No ponygirl went anywhere at any time without flies crawling on her nipples and smothering her pod. Perhaps the darker flesh of a delicious nipple got warmer in the sun than the rest of one's pendulous protuberances. The flies would, of course, crawl on ones breasts, but they all ultimately made for the nipple.

When it was really hot, Flamenco-Firefly and I would stand in the shade of a tree, alongside each other, facing opposite ways, so that by swinging our lovely bottoms, we could swish our tails across each other's lower fronts, to keep at least some of the constant filthy flies off one-another's minxes.

We would stand for half-hour-long stretches in shade from the midday heat this way, swishing our tails across each other to drive the flies off one-another's pods, and flicking our tits to make them swing, so as to try and get the terrible flies off our own nipples.

We all regularly shook our titties to drive the flies off. I could get my beautiful breasts swinging side-to-side in a microsecond. But the relief was always only momentary, as the flies flew back and began to crawl and taste my sweet sweat and, inevitably, tease and taunt my nipples once again.

Of course you have a right to details here. It is very embarrassing for me, but you have a right to know. I would swing my titties from side to side, or up and down, to rid the beastly flies from feasting on my nipples. But that never worked for long, so I practiced making my titties go in a circle. It was a very dirty and naughty way to behave, but we ponygirls were all girls together, and we all had to find some way to get the flies off our breasts. Making my titties go in a circle also swung my bottom, and that swished my tail, and both these helped get rid of the truly dreadful flies; if only for a few seconds.

Now I was no longer a technical-foal, having been deflowered by the Giggle's penis-coupling, my pubic hair had been allowed to re-grow, and if there could be such a thing, I almost had a fly's nest in my negress' very tightly coiled pubic curls.

That was how very bad the flies were for we poor ponygirls. Flies were constantly crawling up and down my pod's lips. With the flies on my nipples and on my pod, it was a feat of supreme will not to become sexually aroused: I was and am a very very sensitive girl.

I felt sorry for little girls like Sparrow-Hop. She was only just fourteen, and her breasts were still budding, so she did not have enough to swing. The flies just loved her peaky pointy pink nipples too, poor sweet dear little thing.

We were well into the spring now and, despite the constant accursed flies, life trotting around a field and playing tit-tag with Flamenco-Firefly in the glorious sun was very pleasant. At some time around midday, our mouth bits would be removed for a while, a trough filled with cold water for our thirst, and a manger filled with fresh cut grass for us to eat.

……………..

I could hear the howling at night.

People say that they are no threat: wolves.

On this part of the French – Spanish border, in the hilly and mountainous little enclave forming the Queendom of **********, wolves still roamed wild in the woods and hunted in packs. It was more than a little spine-chilling to hear their howling late in the night.

There was, I was to learn, a myth that the royal family had rule over the wolves and could protect the public, mostly peasant farmers, from the wolves killing them and their families as opposed to savaging their sheep.

This myth, 'that as long as there was a De Palmania-Thomasatto-Riento girl on the throne, the wolves would kill no man woman or child in the queendom' (not that they ever would anyway), had grown over the years, and, around the year 1015, had prompted a wolf slain by a golden arrow to become the royal family's coat of arms.

By the 21st century, as one would indeed hope, such ideas as that a sacrifice to the wolves in spring would keep them under the command of the royal family, who could thus thereafter order them not to attack the queendom's human population, was no longer believed in. Or so it was said outside the queendom at least. Inside the queendom, there were rumours of an annual 'spring sacrifice' to transfer the wolves' power to the ruling De Palmania-Thomasatto-Rientos.

……………

I had not been ridden solo before. Initially, I had no idea what was going on when Hai Moon and Kim Kai released my arms from the horizontal bar cangue, unlocked the cangue and took it off me.

It was a gorgeous early spring early evening. School had finished five hours since. The princess had despatched Kim Kai and Hai Moon to saddle me up. The princess had a fancy for an evening ride under the rising full moon.

I cannot describe what a joy it was not to have my arms out cruciform. To have a ponygirl's arms tied out permanently like that was very cruel, and I know full well that it was only done for decorative reasons as well, of course, in order to leave the ponygirl's breasts unencumbered for the tit-reins.

Around my wrists they put black leather cuffs with a strong slim strap about two-feet long, linking the cuffs together. My slim shapely pretty arms were thus in front of me, hanging down at my sides, with my cuffed wrists lightly touching my upper-front-side thighs.

Now Hai Moon brought a pair of stirrups, and I began to become fretful, as I recalled Hai Moon riding Koala-Bare so cruelly.

Hai Moon struggled to fit the stirrups as I began to dance with my hooves a clip-clop clip-clop arrhythmic dance on the cobbled yard in my rising state of fear, my bare bountifully-big breasts flow-bouncing with the judder-ripples from my percussive feet.

Kim Kai took a tighter grip of my lead rein, as Hai Moon managed to put the rings at either side of the stirrup for my right hand, on the little finger and the thumb of that hand, after removing my sleigh-bell rings from them, and clip the short chain running from its top, to the back of the leather strap that cuffed my right wrist.

With greater difficulty, she repeated the treatment on my left hand, and I now bore stirrups, for which my beautiful arms were to be used as the 'straps' holding the stirrups ready for the rider.

I was sidling with my dancing feet a clip-clop clip-clop as Kim Kai struggled to hold me in my rising fear.

"Midnight-Pearl wewy naughty!" Kim Kai tried to sooth me.

"It frisky. Need made tired. Need long stretch legs. Need good ridden hard" Hai Moon opined

Kim Kai began to stroke my nose downwards time and time again: "Midnight-Pearly whirly wewy gwood ickle gwirly-whirly weally. Midnight-Pearl whirly not be fwitety-whitied. Dare now. Dare now. Midnight-Pearly whirly girly whirly, gwood ickle gwirly whirly…"

My little fingers hurt. I had not experience the stirrups before. These were slightly different to the ones I had seen on Koala-Bare. The stirrups on Koala-Bare had also used her wrists, but had only used her index fingers for the steadying ring. The stirrups I bore, were like two capital-letters 'D' turned so that the flat side of the 'D' was facing the ground and my thumb and little finger wore rings on what had become the curved upper side of the 'D', now its flat side had been tipped to form the rod on which the rider would rest her boot as she rode me.

As I was being calmed by Kim Kai, Hai Moon had brought the saddle. Like my saddle-band 'waspie', the tight strap that I constantly wore to hold my natural twenty-three-inch waist squeezed down to just fifteen inches, the saddle was about ten or twelve inches deep.

Hai Moon operated from in front of me in case this frisky nervy ponygirl might kick. The saddle went around my waist with its bottom edge resting on the super-enhanced hips I had from wearing so tight a waspie. The three straps on the black leather saddle were pulled tight till it hugged my belly extremely snugly, and were then buckled closed.

At the back of me was the saddle's pommel. The pommel was curved to match the exquisite curvature of a girl's back. Within the saddle, the pommel-to-be, as you might call it, was actually shaped like the blade of a spade used for digging a garden, only curved so as to match the curve of a girl: a truly amazing engineering feat! It was shaped like the blade of a spade so as to distribute the weight of the jockey around the ponygirl's back, when the jockey mounted her.

It was sewn into the saddle with its lower end touching the bottom of my curvy-girl's spine, where my very feminine back began to become my equally feminine bottom. The 'pommel-to-be, made of steel sewn into the leather saddle, curved with my spine and followed its wonderful line. This curved steel followed my spine's line, the whole length of the depth of the saddle: the ten or twelve inches of the tight leather saddle.

At the top middle of the saddle, having had the honour and supreme difficulty of following my all but unmatchable curvature, the pommel merged from blade into rod as, like the handle of a garden-spade, it emerged from the leather of the saddle in the form of a three-quarter-inch diameter round rod, that was angled out and away from my back at 60-degrees from the straight: not that my supremely girl-arched back could ever be called straight.

The three-quarter-inch diameter round rod, rose rigidly free of the saddle some twelve inches, sticking out behind me, 60-degrees away from my body, from the top of the saddle, the rod's base being at about the height of the bottom of my ribcage. The rod, the pommel, was coated with leather and showed clear sign of having been kept moist. Steel-core and leather coating combined, the pommel was shaped to make, in effect, a three-quarter-inch diameter round, twelve-inch long penis.

I was still being frisky and sidling as I clip-clopped the cobbles with my haphazardly dancing prancing clog-hoof shod feet. Another stable-girl came to Kim Kai's assistance, fitting another lead rein to my bit.

Now Hai Moon must risk this stunningly superbly leggy ponygirl kicking out with one of her wonderfully fit and shapely legs as she, Hai Moon, went around behind me to fit the two ends of the 'Y' formed by the crupper that must be worn by me to secure the saddle on me.

The crupper strap's 'Y' was taken under my tail, and the 'V' of its 'Y'-shape, buckled to straps hanging like suspenders from the rear back of the saddle.

In her heart of hearts, Hai Moon knew that I was too gentle a girl to kick her.

Whether the little schoolgirl Hai Moon could be adjudged as gentle as I, can perhaps be assessed by the strength and enthusiasm with which she pulled the tail of the 'Y' of the crupper up between my superb thighs, and horribly tightly between the soft petals of my minx, wide-dividing the lips of my pod, and notching it off at the buckle hanging middle-front of the saddle.

My minx was dry, I was not lubricated by my cognac, and this vicious crupper strap threatened to rub me raw as I was ridden.

They needed to steady me now, because I must be fitted with a riding bridle. Accordingly, as I still sexily danced with my glorious legs in my high voltage state of nerves, Hai Moon and the extra stable-girl, fitted lead reins to hoops at either side of the bottom of my waspie, and thus controlled me from the two sides of me, as Kim Kai took over my preparation, removing my rubber bit and the head band labelling me as 'Midnight-Pearl'.

My bridle, combining mouth bit, blinkers, and new headband to confirm me once again as 'Midnight-Pearl', was once more in all black leather: all leather that is except the bit for my mouth, which Kim Kai struggled to fit as I resisted the cruelty of wearing a 'naughty-girl's bit'.

A 'naughty-girl's bit' had two roller rods of steel between which my tongue was forced, before it – my bit – and my headband were buckled at the back of my head, thus putting the blinkers each side of my head beside my sin-invoking-dark-chocolate eyes.

As with the bit I had worn when I pulled the Giggle – the girl-gig – this bit had rigid hoops at each of its ends: hoops that were sticking out beyond the sides of my face. I became even more restless and disturbed when I recognised that Kim Kai was bringing tit-reins with nipple-bits.

The prospect of the one-inch needles of the nipple-bits being inserted was not even half as horrible as the painful reality as my nipple milk-holes were stabbed into by the needle tongues and the toothed sprung crocodile clamps bit down on my nipples to hold the tit-reins in place as I danced with my feet a mad clip-clop with the pain: pain I could not ease. All my bells were a tinkle-jinkle. These tit-reins did not have bells this time though.

Riding reins, a strap some three-feet long with a clip at each end, were fitted to the rings at the end of my tit-reins, the rings that were sized larger than the rings in my mouth bit so as to prevent my tit reins falling through my mouth bit end rings.

Finally, another strap, about two-feet long, was passed around the back of my head, and clipped either side of my pretty face to rigid rings in the lower of the two bars that formed the bit in my mouth: the lower of the two bit-rods between which my tongue was imprisoned by the naughty-girl's bit.

One of the reins to hold me and lead me was now transferred to one of my mouth bit rings, and the remaining controlling rein taken off the hoop at the side of my waspie.

I was sidling and resisting the lead rein as I was led to a mounting block on which the extremely pretty Princess Astrid Riento stood with her back to us, pulling on her white kid-leather riding gloves, the only clothing this fourteen–year-old perfect little angel wore, apart from knee-high white kid, clinging riding boots: boots that held her on her tiptoes as she stood on their squared-off metal capped toes: boots with little heels that did not even offer to attempt touching the ground, being only little lugs to lodge her booted foot in the stirrups. Boots shaping her short curvaceous legs by tensioning her muscles provocatively sexily: boots on which were fitted star-wheel-spurs: real spurs with eight spaced spikes at the ends of each wheel at the back of her almost heelless riding boots.

Astrid Riento stood with her back to us, her simply stupendous blonde–white hair tumbling down to her heels. Having completed the pulling on of her soft leather riding gloves, she turned toward us, totally naked bar her gloves and boots, and even I gasped with astonishment, not only at her ravishing glorious young body and stunningly pretty face, but at the wonder of wonders of nature that was between her shapely legs.

As the princess stood having turned now and having previously climbed the steps behind the marble block forming a mounting block, standing her, three-feet off the ground, in readiness for mounting her chosen ponygirl, me, I could not help but look at the blonde-white hair, the neatly bikini-line trimmed blonde-white pubic hair of the delectable deliciously delightfully delicate princess.

I was completely astounded and astonished and stared! Princess Astrid was graced by an inheritance of the female line of the De Palmania-Thomasatto-Rientos. Her pubic hair was a mass of kinked blonde that dangled from around her minx: her minx being hidden somewhere excitingly dark within its fantastic forest. The little princess' pubic hair was dangling down well below her knees, halfway down her calves.

I had never seen pubic hair so erotically wonderful. I shuddered to think how she could keep it clean when she had to answer nature's calls. That she had let it grow, only shaving her lower belly and the inside tops of her thigh sides of her crutch, showed how a girl must suffer for beauty: for this sight for sighs and eyes was stunningly exceptionally electrically erotic. And yet she had had it trimmed. Up until a few days before, Princess Astrid's kinked blonde pubic hair had hung down to her ankles!

This was shear magic. I daydreamed of the orgasmic thought of watching this incredible girl washing brushing and combing her more than three-feet long pubic hair.

Then, in an erotic gasp I reminded myself that she was a princess, and would have servant girls to shampoo wash blow-dry comb and brush to a shine this absolute wonder of nature.

This sight was so powerfully erotic that I was staring at the wonder of it, against all rights I had in the world I now inhabited: such rights amounting to precisely none in fact, and certainly not that of ogling a princess' superb below-knee-length pubic hair.

What I did not know, was that the princess normally wore her pubic tresses in ribbons, and only took the ribbons off for riding. Her pubic hair was normally parted and tied with two ribbons so that her maids could hold it to each side of her, when she used the bathroom. She also had the beribboned hair rolled up into two coils by the maids who dressed her, so it could be contained within her panties.

What I also did not appreciate, as I should have by now, was that my looking at the princess was of no consequence. I was regarded as an animal. Animals can behave rather oddly. What a ponygirl thought mattered not one jot. It was a stupid animal, and should be treated as such. It could always be swatted with a whip to drive it off if it got in the way.

My mind and my compelled eyes were quickly brought back to the reality of the then present.

Keen to win praise from the princess, Kim Kai held me by my lead rein and Hai Moon, though superfluous, was in close attendance, once more keeping clear of my pony-shoe shod tip-top-tiptoed feet for fear I might kick, as I was still extremely skittish and frisky.

Kim Kai and Hai Moon curtsied low as they approached close to the lovely princess, who acknowledged them with a nod and smile.

"You may speak", said the princess gently and kindly to my stable-girls.

"Thank you Serenity Supreme for gracious kindness." Hai Moon whispered loudly in her broken English.

"Serenity Supreme, Hai Moon fear Midnight-Pearl frisky ponygirl" Hai Moon warned, as I continued to pull on my lead rein, and to tug to the side with my hoofs clattering a dancing clip-clop, clip-clop on the cobbles, raising the odd spark in the sudden night dark; a darkness relieved by a very bright full moon reviving the daylight gone by reflecting some of tomorrow's ration from the other side of the world.

The howl of wolves shivered the air with its spine-chilling threatening coldness, and a girl somewhere off in the distance let out a terrified gagged-scream.

I became even more anxious. I was terrified of the wolves. I tugged hard on the lead rein and was working up a sweat, despite the cool evening air.

The princess looked at me. She was a very experienced rider and had dealt with many a frisky frightened ponygirl.

"You do me great kindness by your warning," the princess smiled to Hai Moon "This pony is very beautiful, and you have prepared it perfectly for me", she condescended to say in a kindly way.

Having worked her fingers satisfactorily within her soft leather gloves, the princess completed the preparations for her ride, by putting the loop of a black riding crop around her right wrist, and checking its business-end by lightly tapping the folded-double leather strap that concluded its flexible black fibreglass shank, on the palm of her gloved left hand.

Kim Kai and Hai Moon curtsied once more and then led me to the mounting block, turning my back to it. From there, the princess easily practicedly took hold of my main reins, as Hai Moon and Kim Kai, by holding the strap that manacled my wrists close to one of my wrists apiece, forced me to hold my arms by my side, so that the princess could slide her cunt down onto the pommel of the saddle, so the foot-long pommel filled her cunt like a penis, whilst slipping the toes of her boots through the stirrups my hands had been forced to hold and form.

My lead rein was unclipped and I had the pretty princess on my back pulling up hard on both of my tits as the inside-sides of her boots tapped me repeatedly on the outside-side of my upper thighs, in order to begin to bring order to my behaviour.

I skitter-scattered around on my lovely legs to try and unseat her, my fear had got the better of my judgement and I was behaving as if I had never been broken, as if I did not acknowledge that I was a ponygirl and had to accept being ridden by my mistresses: my superiors.

As I skittered on the spot, Princess Astrid checked my tit reins by pulling on the main reins to work my tits rapidly up and down. She was a very skilled ponygirl-rider, and quickly had me assessed as I skitter-scattered about, disobeying my orders even before I had been given any.

The princess' shapely bare legs pressed my front sides as she pressed down in the stirrups to hurt my thumb and fingers to force me to keep my arms loose so that she could use them as stirrup straps. I felt her soft long long pubic tresses tickling my bare bottom, and instantly also felt an oozing of my cognac within my pod at its absolutely astonishing erotic stimulation at the thought, let alone as the reality that a seismically stunning fourteen-year-old angel like the princess had pubic hair so very long that it could blow in the breeze, as her three-foot-and-more-long pubic tresses were doing as of right then and right there.

Having satisfied herself that my tit-reins were in order, Princess Astrid decided to put an end to my skittish sidling and friskiness: she tugged on the short rein, the other rein, that ran around my head from one end of my bottom bit to the other, and the lower half of the bit was pulled up hard so that my tongue was squeezed extremely harshly and very painfully between the lower and upper metal rods of this, my 'naughty-girl's bit', and, in the same instant, she swotted me very hard on my right bum hemisphere with her crop.

My tongue still painfully trapped, squeezed between the two halves of my naughty-girl's bit, the reflex squeak I tried to emit as I leapt with the wicked sting of the crop on my bare bottom, hurt my tongue even more cruelly. I could not say: 'okay: okay: I surrender!' but, that I would do anything to have my pretty pink tongue released and to avoid another swat from the crop, immediately evidenced itself in my instantly modified behaviour.

The princess 'felt' her rides. Her body, especially her legs, told her what was running through a ponygirl's mind when she, the princess was on the saddle. The princess knew I had surrendered. She let go the tongue clamp, ordered me, "Walkies" as she clapped my flanks with the inside-side of her boots and in the same instant pulled both of my titties upwards together twice, businesslike brusquely, to confirm her instruction in the way a ponygirl understands.

All my breaking and training came back to me. Counting my experience of pulling the Giggle, I had learned to obey, above all, the orders given me through my tits. The oral orders coincided or preceded the tugs on my tits through the tit-reins, but the savage whipping I had been given as I pulled the Giggle had come from my pre-empting my tits. I had, as I had had a long agonising time to reflect while I recovered from the welts with which my gorgeous bottom had been lividly striped, almost anticipated the order to run on that occasion.

I could therefore conclude, that even my thinking of starting to run on the instant of the oral order for me to do so, thereby anticipating by the split-of-a-split-second the two tugs on my tits to tell me to run rather than trot, had caused the princess, quite understandably, and entirely rightly, to lose her temper at my stupidity and punish me with a sound whipping.

I was never sure that my conclusion was right. I really had no right to think about it. I was in no position to ask and it was entirely for my mistresses to tell me as, when, and if they chose to do so. A ponygirl was credited with some intelligence, albeit at a pretty basic animalistic level, too low a level for more than the simplest communication. Nobody was going to discuss with me why I was whipped so hard when I was pulling the Giggle. Even if I could be expected to understand, it was none of my business.

Lesson learned: presumed lesson learned, I now had heard the order to 'walk' but had not begun to walk until the instruction was confirmed by the two pulls upwards of both of my tits through the tit-reins. I was proud that I had learned this lesson in more complete obedience.

I had had the order walk followed by my titties being pulled upwards brusquely twice to confirm the command. And so, after I had gone sideways for three or four paces in the final echo of my nervous skittishness, whilst Princess Astrid tightened the grip of her thighs on me, in case I was going to attempt to throw her, I obeyed the order she had given me through my tits, through my tit-reins, and began to walk forward, knowing she would tell me through my tits, with or without confirmatory voice command, what I must do next, and that I would do whatever she told me.

To get a ponygirl to understand that it was to feel its commands through its tits, and that that was why it wore nipple-bits with their one-inch-long needles in its nipples' milk holes, so as to make its nipples constantly painful, and the ponygirl therefore more constantly consciously aware of its tits, and that it must feel for the slightest movement in them from the tit-reins, that even a twitch from the tit-reins must be obeyed, was considered the ultimate ideal of ponygirl training.

I was being ridden. I had a girl on my back riding me. I was being ridden like a pony. I was being ridden like a ponygirl. I was being ridden as a ponygirl.

……………

Princess Astrid Riento was a superb ponygirl-rider. She had been riding ponygirls since she was child, using a platform saddle to stand on to start with, and the standard seat-saddle once she was tall enough to see over the ponygirl when she, the princess, was sitting. Only since a month ago had the queen authorised her daughter, the heir to her throne, to use the pommel saddle, usually reserved for ponygirl racing, knowing, but not admitting she knew, that her strong-willed daughter had already anticipated the permission and lost her virginity riding 'Maple-Syrup', a stupendously sexy Canadian-Indian squaw.

I felt the princess' complete mistressy over me. She was controlling me routinely, not through the reins, which she held loosely, but through the strength of her shapely legs. The occasional squeeze of my trunk between her wide-parted thighs accompanied by a "Steady now steady" or a "Good girl" reassured me that I was behaving as required.

She was light on the stirrups. Her weight being on the pommel, she did not need to hurt my arms by pressing down on the stirrups my hands had been turned into, using my lovely arms as the straps for the stirrups my hands had become.

This too was good riding. Nothing stresses a ponygirl more than inappropriate weight distribution. The saddle on the ponygirl's back is where the rider should concentrate her mass: that is what the saddle is for. The stirrups are for the comfort of the rider, the reins for instructing the poneygirl, a good ponygirl-rider does not need to use stirrups or reins for support. In any case, the stirrups need to be kept at the ponygirl's side-front thighs, so as not to encumber it, 'her' if you will, in its progress.

Sometimes a "good girl" or a "steady girl, steady now", was accompanied by the lightest of taps on my right bum cheek with the crop, thus combining praise and comfort building my confidence, whilst providing a reminder to me, that my rider was to be obeyed implicitly, and there was a very literal sting in the tail at the ready if I were to make a mistake or disobey.

I was very nervous being ridden for the first time. To be pulling a gig was one thing. Pulling the Giggle, the ponygirl was at a distance from its mistress, and could even let its thoughts drift a little. To be saddled and ridden, put its superior too close at hand for it to dare to try and think of anything other than the last order given it through the tit-reins.

The princess was a good enough and experienced enough rider to sense my novice's nervousness, and to recognise my wish to please, and so she reached and actually patted me on my right bottom cheek as she gave me another "good girl" which, because of my novice's nerves, had to be close followed by a "steady girl, steady" as the pride I felt at having earned her gloved hand's pat on my sexy bottom, made me momentarily forgetful.

I was become less fearful. I had experienced the princess' wrath, now I was experiencing her skill and gentleness. She knew, as if by instinct, she knew what her ponygirl needed and was as ready with a reassuring word and a gentle tap of the crop, as with a heavy crop swipe and even the spurs if a pony got out of hand.

Although I had never been ridden before, I sensed, rightly, that I was being ridden expertly, and I admired the princess' skill with me.

My left tit was being pulled up repeatedly: instantly I veered gently to the left: a single gentle pull on both my tits followed and I began to walk straight ahead once more. "That's a good girl: good girl", the princess praised.

We were heading for a path in the wild woodlands: a girlmade clearing in the trees.

Once more I heard the wolves yowl, a fox's yap this time too, and a girl's gagged-scream. A chill went down my spine and I was instantly covered with goose-pimples, but continued to obey my rider, as a good ponygirl must. The gagged-scream was horrible and seemed to be closer now.

We had entered the woods. Both my tits were pulled up hard, as the princess whispered "Whoa", and then gently patted my bottom again, in praise of my instant obedience: "good girl".

I had stopped walking. She seemed to be looking around and listening. To keep me calm, she stroked my mane… Sorry, of course I mean my negress' natural tightly curly hair. I found it very sexy, but knew better than to react as a girl, and took it, as it was intended, as an a-sexual comfort to keep a potentially skittish ponygirl calm.

Moments later a double-tug on both my tits ordered me to walk again, and instantly after, a gentle repeated pulling upwards of my right tit, ordered me to move in that direction, till a single gentle tug on both my tits made me go straight forward again.

Again I heard the wolves howl, and this time too, I heard the close-by hooting horn, long and chilling in the cool moonlight, of a passing train.

My hooves were cracking fallen twigs now as I was ridden off the main path through the woods, onto a sidetrack.

Suddenly we came upon a clearing and both my tits were pulled up together hard. I stopped as my rider leaned over my shoulder to try and see what a wisp of cloud across the moon had momentarily hidden. Saying nothing, the princess reached and patted my bottom to praise me and reassure me.

When the cloud had gone by, I nearly reeled backwards in fear as I suddenly became aware how close to the edge of a cliff-like shear drop I had been ridden. But my eyes too began to focus on what was happening in the hollow below.

From the hollow below came the sound of a girl breathing very heavily in deep dark sexual pleasure. From the simply glorious redness of her hair, I just knew it was Autumn-Leaf. Poor Autumn-Leaf appeared to have been staked out on the ground. She was still in her arms-wide cruciform cangue, but the ends of her cangue were tied to two uprights, two posts that kept her in a kneeling position. It was obviously Autumn-Leaf's gagged-screams that I had heard earlier.

Cries of uninhibited sexual pleasure and an approaching climactic crisis now came from Autumn-Leaf, before a cloud went over the moon once more, just as she screamed with an orgasm.

It was only as that cloud cleared that I saw Autumn-Leaf's lovers.

Autumn-Leaf was having her dangling breasts licked and tugged and fought over by six she-wolves, who had already made one of her nipples bleed, whilst a huge slavering male wolf was standing on its hind legs, with its front paw claws having also made Autumn-Leaf bleed by scratching her girlsoft skinned back. And it was truly horrible to see that it, the massive male wolf, had its cock deep in Autumn-Leaf's cunt, and was shagging her with slow burning fury, whilst keeping at bay twelve other male wolves waiting their turn to fuck the poor ponygirl.

Autumn-Leaf was the spring sacrifice. Every year the royal family continued a tradition to assuage the wolves. Every spring they tied a ponygirl to the stakes somewhere in the woods where the wolves would eventually find her. It was Autumn-Leaf's misfortune, not only to have been chosen this year, but that for the past two years, the ponygirl staked-out for the wolves to rape had been a lactating cow-pony, leading the wolves to expect Autumn-Leaf's breasts to yield milk, and their now satisfying their desire for fluid from her breasts, by having bitten one of her nipples in trying to get milk Autumn-Leaf's breasts did not have, so that her nipple bled, and they could suck the blood.

As we heard Autumn-Leaf's gasps of what sounded distinctly like another orgasm, the princess was pulling on my left tit to order me to turn.

I could tell that the sight of Autumn-Leaf's ordeal had excited the princess sexually: I could feel her nipples go so stiff that they were almost scratching my shoulders.

She was silent as she rode me back along the path with loose fallen twigs, that she had diverted me onto from the main forest track clearing.

As we rejoined that clearing though, the princess was tugging up my tight tit with the reins, when to turn left was the direction in which to ride me home.

I obeyed her order to me through my tit, and turned onto the main path, feeling both my tits pulled up once briefly, to tell me to now go straight, and then a double-tug on both of my titties together, ordering me to trot.

To trot with the princess in the saddle on my back was surprisingly easy, she was that good a ponygirl-rider. I trotted lifting my knees high bouncing on my toes as my hooves fell on the soft ground. I was enjoying the exercise. My breasts bounced my bells jingled, the bells on my eyelids swung side to side till they hit my blinkers and then bashed into each other. The bell from my nose-ring kept hitting my bold negress' upper lip, and the one fitted to the ring through my lower lip, struck me repeatedly on the chin. With my severely wasped waist, a mere fifteen-inches squeezed, my bottom swung wildly with my steps, and I sensed that the princess was having the highest form of pleasure with the pommel up her cunt, as my steps slid her cunt up and down its pole.

I was trotted to a clearing made for the train lines, and a single tug on both my titties, then ordered me to return to the walk. The princess walked me over the single train line and then pulled both my tits up hard to stop me, before pulling repeatedly on my left tit, to have me turn toward the train line we had just crossed, and which was now twenty-metres away.

Princess Astrid stroked my mane as we stood waiting, for I knew not what.

In the far distance I heard Autumn-Leaf's muffled scream of joy from another orgasm.

A fox barked.

A train hooted.

I felt the princess settle herself in the saddle, check her feet in the stirrups and check the reins were arranged in her hands as she wished them to be.

The train hooted again: already a surprising degree much closer.

I could now hear the warning bell on the top front of the diesel engine clanging.

I felt Princess Astrid grip her whip.

The train was now in sight, but the princess held me still.

Then the train was where she clearly intended to wait for it too be, as she pulled both of my titties together twice, and I began to walk, and she pulled both of my titties together twice more as I was walking, and I began to trot, and the train was getting closer and closer, and I was getting nearer and nearer to the line, trotting in obedience of my superior. And the train was getting closer and closer still, and now the princess was whipping my bum as hard as she could. And we had reached the line and I had lost the race with the train. I dare not cross the line for I was sure to be killed and the princess with me. And the princess whipped me and whipped me as I stood terrified, she whipped me and whipped me to make me obey her impossible order that I trot over the track. And the train horn was blaring like a foghorn, as the driveress had seen us. And I was disobediently trying to turn away in my terror. And to make me stay and drive me over the track, the princess dug her spurs into my naked thighs. And I screamed with the pain. And she dug her spurs into my thighs once more as the train was now thundering across in front of us whilst my hooves drummed the ground on the spot. She was determined to make me obey the order she had given me through my tits that I must trot, and so she whipped me and dug in her spurs. I felt, even in my absolute horror, I felt warm blood trickling down my beautiful thighs. And as if to confirm its cause, the princess dug her spurs into my naked thighs yet again. And I yelped with the agony. And she whipped my bottom as hard as she could, and drove her spurs into me. And she pulled hard on the second rein to trap my tongue brutally between the top and bottom cold steel bars of the naughty-girl's bit in my mouth. And the pain was horrific. And I was….unbelievably, I was becoming sexually aroused, and my minx was loving the pressure of the extremely tight crupper dividing its lips. And my clitoris was dancing as the princess drove the spur wheels up and down my naked thighs and kicked the spurs into my inner thighs, and whipped and whipped and whipped my gorgeous bottom to make me go forward, even when it was impossible because the train was still passing, as she whipped me and whipped me and whipped me and whipped me, and again drove in her spurs. And the train had passed. And, from dancing on the spot being whipped and spurred in screaming pain and fear, I leapt forward at the trot with blood running down my beautiful legs. And the princess laughed like a maniac and then I heard and felt her orgasm. And she pulled both my titties twice to order me to run. And I ran as ordered, and she whipped me and whipped me and whipped me, and she orgasmed again. And then she pulled hard on both my tits together so that I stopped. And then she pulled on both my tits together twice, and I began to walk again. And she giggled cruelly as she tried to get out a completely ironic and intentionally deeply insulting and hurtful "good girl" as, after she had used me so violently viciously cruelly for her own satiation, she rode me at the walk back to the palace stables.