Karen Anne Summerfield

Writing As Cynetta Cynthia Cynclaire

Copyright © January 1999

The images included with the text are not purpose-drawn, but supplied and placed to enhance the writer's words and provide some additional mind-candy, so, on with the story!


“We’ll be going on vacation in three weeks, hun’.  Chuck Watkins invited us to spend a month with him and Valerie at their cabin North of Boise.”

“Boise? As in Boise, Idaho?”  I made a face.  Spending a month in such a remote place did not sound like any sort of fun for me.  I’m definitely not the outdoorsy type.  “How long do you figure it will take to drive there?”

“About an hour and a half to La Guardia and two hours from Boise to the cabin.”  Knowing that we were flying and not driving - my mood brightened and I grinned.

“If that happy face is because you think I am going to remove your slave collar and chastity belt so you can get on the plane without tripping the metal detector, pet, you are grossly mistaken.

“I told you that your collar never comes off and you know that I only open your belt when I want to use your holes for my pleasure.  You’ll just have to deal with security anyway you can.”

“Just how in the Hell am I supposed to do that, Master?”  My mood turned sour.

“That little bit of caustic just earned you ten, slave.  Fetch the crop and compose yourself, unless you want more.”

My name is Monica.  I’m a twenty-six year old slave girl.  Rich, ‘Master Richard’, is my owner.  Quite literally, he bought me from the woman who had trained me four years previously.  I had thought playing at being slave was a really fun game.  Rich taught me that it was not a game - he did not 'play'.  For him, being a Master was real and I learned what it really meant to be a slave - his slave.

I began to learn as soon as we reached his home in Connecticut.  I arrived there as a piece of luggage, all packaged up in the small trunk of his Mercedes convertible.


“How would you prefer me to appear tomorrow, Master?”  It was the evening prior to our departure for Idaho.

“I think it will be amusing to see the reactions of the other travelers and crew when they see a pretty slave all in shiny, black latex.  After your shower, lace yourself into one of your corsets.  I’ll dress you.  I think your black leather one will do nicely.

“Our plane leaves at nine, I’ll wake you at four thirty to give you plenty of time to get pretty, pet.”

I’m used to getting up at six on weekdays so that I can get myself dressed and attend to Rich’s needs and desires before both of us leave for work.  After I was collared and his marks and jewellery were placed on and in my body, I was required to find a job, any job.  My Master earns more than enough money so that he does not need any income from me to help pay the bills.  I work because my owner ordered me to.

Because of the collar engraved “Slave girl Monica - Property of Richard Marks - (plus his phone number)”, the thick ring through my septum, all of the rings in my ears, the ring through the tip of my tongue and the showgirl makeup I am required to wear, most business wouldn’t even let me fill out an application.  I’m a sales clerk at a leather and rubber boutique in town.

Richard had taken my driver’s license and all my credit cards when he’d bought me.  They were burned after he had me close all of the accounts.  There is no public transportation from his home to my job and so to get to and from work, I pedal a bicycle the four miles each way.  That’s loads of fun, wearing a mini over a tight corset and steel chastity belt with a fat plug up my rear.  My normal, six-inch heels just add to my ‘enjoyment’ of this exercise.

“Time to get up and get pretty, pet.”  I rolled over on my firm steel cot and accepted his kiss.

“Good morning, Master.” I tried to pull him to me, but was pushed away.

“I’ll unlock your chain after you get ready.  Go take a shower and I’ll lay out your clothes for the trip.”

“How would you like my face and hair today?” I asked.

An hour and a half later I was standing facing the corner of my room with my wall chain stretched tight to where it was locked at the back of the polished, two-inch band of stainless steel encircling my throat.  The requisite position is to have my legs slightly parted and my hands, palm to palm behind my twenty-inch waist.  I have been trained to assume this posture without needing to be told, even in public, whenever I am not otherwise occupied.

“You look delightful.  The contours of your belt show through quite nicely.  Turn so I can see the front.”  With the tiny movement dictated by the two-inch, platform sandals and their eight-inch, spike heels, I moved to face his big smile.  With my hands as they were, my large breasts thrust forward, stretching the bodice of the black latex sheath I had zipped into.  Even without standing that way, the contours of my nipples and their inch and a half rings showed.

“I think that your bridle will be the perfect accessory, pet.  Fetch it and sit at your vanity.  I’ll put in on you.”  My face, with just black and gray make-up contrasting with the pure white foundation, looked really weird.  The very bold eyeliner completely circled my eyes and covered my upper lids.  I had drawn it out and arched upward to my temples.  Long thick lashes top and bottom; gray blush on my cheeks and black patent lipstick would have drawn more that enough attention to me without the black bridle.

The straps of this are a half inch wide and the hardware chromed.  There’s a brow band, two straps over my head, so they don’t interfere with a mane or the ponytail my hair was in then.  The straps down each side of my nose pass outside my mouth and buckle under my chin.  A strap passes from side to side, in front of my ears, and there is one from the rings beside my lips that goes around to the back where everything comes together, buckling and locking.  Rich opened my jewellery box and quickly found what he wanted, a short length of twist link chain with a catch on each end and I did not need to be told to open my mouth and stick out my tongue. 

He could have selected one of a variety of bits or gags but the chain, by far, was and is my first choice in the comfort department.  It was threaded through the vertical ring at the tip of my tongue and the catches on its ends clipped to the rings on each side of my mouth.  The chain is just long enough so I can withdraw my tongue and close my lips without the corners being stretched

“Almost prefect.  Where’s the lipstick you used?”  I handed the tube to my Master and watched as he applied it to the tip of my nose. Forty-five minutes later we were approaching the airport.

“I’ll drop you and the luggage off at the curb.  Check all the bags through to Boise and tip the Skycap.”  Rich placed a ten in my latex hand along with the ticket envelope.  The sleeves on this dress end in the gloves.  I cannot uncover my hands without removing my dress and I can’t do that until its zipper is unlocked.

As I stepped from his car, I was an instant attraction.  To have shown any hesitancy, resisted or complained about obeying any order would instantly have earned me punishment and it would be administered immediately too, whether we were in public and there were strangers around to see or not.  I’ve been spanked across his knees, both with his hand and his belt.  I’ve been caned and whipped.  I’ve been put into bondage and gagged and I’ve been embarrassed and humiliated.

Just a month before, I’d failed to assume the position while waiting in a checkout line at the mall.  Rich put me across his knees and used his belt on my bared ass until I cried.

“Since you do not wish to stand as I have told you to, you may no longer stand until I give you permission.”  I didn’t quite understand what he expected when he had told me this, but I found out.  I was expected to walk on all fours and he meant walk, not crawl on my knees.  I was in six inch heeled boots and had to place my hands on the floor and walk like that, on my hands and toes until we were back home, with my ass high up in the air.  I’ve no idea what punishment I’d be given if I had not.  Certainly, I did not wish to find out by being intentionally disobedient.

I was standing, having waited for twenty minutes, before Rich returned and gave me permission to break position.  I was told to walk to the security point alone and that he would join me only after I had boarded the plane.

“Stand in the boarding area properly until boarding, slave girl.  You may sit after you board.”  Rich does not require I verbally acknowledge any order; I’m to curtsey my acknowledgment.  Should I not understand, I’m to curtsey, but not straightened up until permitted to.

Of course, I drew everyone’s attention as I made my way through the airport - very crowded with business travelers at that hour.  I was greeted, given lewd remarks and solicited frequently.  In the security line I assumed my position until it was my turn to go through the metal detector, which was guaranteed to be triggered.

Just about any part of me was going to be enough and I was loaded with steel - from the steel taps on my toes and heels, the locks assuring that I did not kick them off, to the strong bones in my corset.  I wouldn’t need to be in my chastity belt and collar or have the fat, seven-inch plug up my ass to do it either.  Just the chain leash I was carrying in my left hand would have been sufficient along with my ‘jewellery’.

My leash was not attached to my collar; I just carried it and could not take it off for the black leather handle loop had a small lock through the holes punched in it so I couldn’t remove it from my wrist after I had slipped it on.  I often go out just carrying my leash like I was then.

“Please step aside, ma’am.”  One of the male guards called for a female one on his radio.  I had to wait until she arrived.  They had already seen enough to know I could not be carrying any weapon or explosives.  I was not any threat.

After patting me down and passing a wand over my body, she had to know everything.  Still I was ordered behind a screen.

“Raise your dress to your waist and keep it there.”  I started to roll up the latex.  She was really going to like the three-inch high mark on my left thigh.  I’m branded with both of Richard’s initials there.  That day, Rich had me in transparent latex stockings with a white cast.  These were coloured to resemble full-fashioned stockings with black toe accents, very prominent heel accents to above my ankles, bold black seams and tops.  The top of my brand was at the bottom of the tops so it was clearly visible through the gleaming and tight rubber.

You did not even have to look through thin latex to see my name boldly tattooed on my right cheek along with the same information that was engraved on my collar.  By the way, ‘Slave Girl Monica’ is my legal name.  Rich had me change it after I’d been purchased and then too, if anyone cared to curl back my upper lip, they could read it tattooed there too, in purple.

I was made to stand with my dress up while she examined my belt and my marks then of course asked all sorts of questions.  I guess she was concerned that I wasn’t being forced to do what I was doing and had done to me - even if she'd already concluded that I was crazy.

When I was finally permitted to smooth down my dress and leave, I was pleased that my owner had waited ahead to assure that I wasn’t taken away.  He let me pass him then followed behind.

Our seats were two abreast in First Class with mine next to the window. Rich was not going to be a sardine in Business or Coach. 

“If you need to pee, do so now.”  I took the opportunity, as I would not know how long it would be before I again had permission.  Except when I’m chained to the wall in my room, I must have his permission to use the toilet, even when I’m alone.  I must page him until he pages me back, granting me the chance.

“Hands behind, pet.”  I knew what to expect - in his hand were two of those fat, nylon cable ties.  I placed my arms in back and stuck my hands through the loops, in opposite directions.  Pulling the free ends, Richard slid his arm out from behind me and pulled my seat belt until he was satisfied it was tight enough.  Once in bondage I am forbidden to release any of it or loosen it, even if I’m able to.  I am not to request that he do so either.  I could expect that for the entire four-hour flight, I was to remain exactly as I was and that my seat would not be reclined to provide the little comfort I might get from that.  “Would you like coffee, tea or another beverage, ma’am.”

“My slave girl has already been watered this morning, thank you.  I’d like a cup of coffee, black, please?”  I did not look to see her reaction to what he’d said.  When I was offered breakfast Rich’s words were about the same - just substituting ‘had her feed’.   He never tries to hide what I am and I am not permitted to either.

“You will get the luggage and meet me at the car rental, slave.”

It was not until we were pulling in the arrival gate at Boise that he cut my arms free. As the last leg of the drive was not going to be on paved roads, he'd rented a four-by-four SUV for the coming month.  Once we were outside the airport, he pulled over and stopped.

“How would you like me?”  I was going to be placed in some type of bondage and did not need to be told this.

“I don’t want your faced mussed up.  I was thinking of putting you in one of your bags and letting you ride in back.  You look too comfortable sitting up here.  Stay until I get something set up.”  Five minutes later, I was told to get out and come to the back of the vehicle.

“Sit there, tailor fashion, pet.” Seeing the heavy canvas bag he had arranged, I rolled my dress up to my waist again and climbed in.  “Face the back.”  He used the cable ties again to fasten my ankles to the opposite knees and my arms palm to elbow behind.  “Bend forward.”  I have been in this position before - inside the bag that Richard had set up.  It very quickly becomes uncomfortable when I’m tightly corseted ... and I’m always tightly corseted.

I spent the next couple of hours, bent and bound for once he closed the heavy zipper, I was unable to straighten up or move much inside the bag.

“Hi Rich."

“Charlie, Val. Good to see you.”

“Where’s your slave girl? I thought you were going to bring her.”

“I did.  She’s bagged up in back.  You’ll see.”

I had not met our host and hostess before, 'though Richard had visited them in Northern California several times.  I think that their reaction seeing me and how I appeared was as startling as my seeing Valerie.  About my height and weight, she was totally bald and practically naked.  She wore only a leather collar, tight black corset, pair of hoof boots and a bridle and like me, her nose and nipples were ringed.  Her clit and hairless slit were ringed also - with three in each of her lips.  The centre left one had a two-inch disk hanging between her legs from a couple of links.

“Lovely slave you own, Rich.”

“Did you have her fly out here today looking like that, Master? She had to be quite a sensation at the airport.”

“Yes, Val.  Slave Girl Monica usually turns a few heads when she’s fixed attractively.”

“Come on inside, I’ll show you around.”  Val took his hand and Chuck passed the single rein attached to her bridle to Rich.

“Unload the car, Monica.”  I curtseyed.  It was not unusual for me to be ignored by others in the scene who know my status, but other slaves seldom ignored me too.  I started to carry the first of the luggage.

“Where should I put our things, Valerie?”

“Mistress Valerie to you. I only play at being a sub, but those who know me, know my true nature.”  I dipped a curtsey.  Val removed the rein on her bridle and moved to mine.

“Open.”   When I obeyed.  She looked at my tongue.  “Close.  This one is better, for now.” The heavy trigger snap closed about my nose ring.  Taking the other end from Richard’s hand, Val led me through the cabin and upstairs to a bedroom.

“Your owner will have the use of this room.  Put the luggage here and we’ll fetch the rest.”  Her hand removed a heavy crop from a hook next to the door as she passed.

“If you haven’t been told yet, you are mine for the next month.  I’ve permission do anything that pleases me to and with you.”  I now knew why Richard had packed everything himself, including my things.

When I had completed the final trip to the car, I was taken outside and led to small building behind the cabin.  Valerie tethered my rein to a rail in front of it then started to unlock my outfit with Richard’s set of keys.

“First thing, before we actually get started, is to tell you the first use I’m going to put you to.  You'll be a ponygirl.  I want you to tell me your understanding of that and ask appropriate questions while you still have permission to talk.  There are pleasure ponygirls and working ponygirls.  Guess which kind you are going to be?”

“A working ponygirl, Mistress Valerie.”

“Correct.  Now tell me what that means.”  I did and she corrected none of my understanding.  Richard had played ponygirl with me, but that was all it was - play.  At those times I’d just been a pleasure ponygirl or ‘parlor ponygirl’ using his phrase.  I had no illusions that Valerie was going to be playing.

“You are probably curious about my appearance right now.  I had Chuck give me a bit of exercise and a refresher so I was in the right mind set for you.  I find that if I play a sub role, I can then transfer that experience to better relate to the sub I’m going to be dominating.”  It made sense in my slave girl brain.

When I was naked except for my bridle, rings, collar, corset and belt, Valerie told me to start getting my mind in gear then conducted a very complete examination of all that I was still wearing and of me.  My butt plug was removed when she got to it.

“This appears to be a suitable harness once it's properly tightened.”

The corset I was wearing was fitted all over with D-rings.  It buckles up the front over the hooked busk, but I had left a one-inch gap in back when I had tied off that morning.  It took her twenty minutes of tugging and pulling to close it completely from top to bottom.

“You are a new, untrained ponygirl that has just been delivered to our ranch and so I'm going to start treating you as one. You are hereby ordered to become one and FYI, Ponygirl’s do not talk.  Is that clear?”  To answer her, I tossed my head up and down and attempted to whinny which caused her to start laughing.  “I’ve a strong feeling that you are going to be very easy to train and turn out to be a very good ponygirl.

“I do like this.”  Her finger just touched the tip of my blackened nose.  “I think I’ll name you Blaze, Black Blaze, because of it.”

Valerie went into the building and soon returned with what she had selected.  Starting with a pair of brand new hooves, like the ones she was wearing, but without the steel shoes hers had nailed to their bottoms.

Though I wanted to cry when she lifted my hand while holding a pair of end cutting pliers in her other, I offered no resistance and did not try to withdraw it.  My beautiful, long fingernails were cut off short, below the tips of my fingers.

Given a choice, I much prefer having my arms in a single glove than a U-glove.  The U-glove that was fitted with a heavy, black leather one with extra straps around my forearms.

“I’m going to put a real halter on you.  This pretty thing just won’t hold up when it comes to your training and you’ll be fitted with a proper training bit when we begin in the morning, Black Blaze.”

The rein was clipped to a ring on my left cheek once the black halter was snug then leather hobbles with about a ten-inch chain connecting them were buckled around my ankles.  When Valerie stood again, she checked all of my tack and I felt her retie my corset laces.  I guessed it was pliers that cut the loose ends off, close to the knots.  I was sure of this when she crouched and cut the laces on my boots after retying them in a regular knot, not a bow.  This was clearly intended to show me that neither my hooves nor my corset were coming off soon.

“One more thing and I'm all finished with you for today.  You have to get another ring.  There are enough in you now for me not to be telling you that it hurts some, Black Blaze.”

She had both a large fat, curved needle and the new ring in her right hand.  This had to be a quarter inch thick and three inches in diameter.  It was polished stainless steel like the ten rings already welded in each of my ears, those in my nipples, my tongue and my nose.

Hooking her finger into the lowest ring in my left ear, she pulled until I bent over.  There was no pause; her very sharp needle went through the centre of the large cavity of my left ear.  As soon as she pulled it out from the underside she shoved the open ring through the new hole.  Forcing the fat steel in and forcing the hole to spread to accept it.  It hurt! This hurt far, far, worse than any other hole I’d had placed in my body and the new piercing of my ear itself.

“Done.” Valerie let go of my earring.  “When our farrier comes to shoe you, I’ll have him weld that so you don’t loose it or your identity disk, Black Blaze."

I was led inside to see first a small sulky with lots of tack hung behind it on the wall, then I saw the four stalls along the wall I had faced from the outside.  Valerie led me to the third one and unlatched the door to swing it open.  Even though the top half was just a barred panel, there would be no way the occupant of the stall could open it from the inside and to doubly ensure that, a steel shroud guarded the bolt.  Valerie had to use of both hands to open the latch bolt.  I could move either of mine for they remained securely encased in the U-glove.

She led me through almost knee deep, coarse straw to the centre of the five foot wide by eight foot deep stall then crouched, stuck her hand into the beige stalks and fumbled down there for a minute then stood. Chains hanging from the top middle of each side of the stall's sturdy walls were clipped to her halter on each side and only then did she remove the rein having held it constantly since first clipping it to her.

“Your feed and water are in the troughs, Black Blaze.”

Without another word and not even looking at me when she spoke, Valerie went into the corridor and closed then latched the gate.  I heard her hooves until she left the stable, then the outer door closed and the bolts shot home.  I was locked in a stall, a ponygirl stall because that was what I was told that I had become.

Not having been given permission to pee since that morning, I backed away from my feed and water, discovering, as I tried to get to the far corner that my hobble chain had been fixed to another chain connected to a floor ring, under the straw .  Later, I’d see that it had a ring on the other end that could slide on a steel rod that was securely mounted, an inch off the floor.  This rod was about three feet long and aligned with the long axis of the stall and it, together with the short length of the connecting chain to my ankle hobble and my two cross tie chains, combined to prevent me from reaching the corners of my stall. Too they did not permit me to touch any part of my nearly naked body on any of the wooden walls.

I just squatted and peed.  I was a ponygirl and did not need permission any time I wished to relax the right muscles.

Moving forward, my hooves, though heelless and arched more than in six-inch pumps, were well supported and fairly easy to manage.  I went to the troughs but the hobble stopped me when it drew taut under the straw.  Bending forward, I found that the two cross-tie tethers were just long enough for me to put my lips to the surface of both with a little slack remaining, but my corset, now laced to give me less than a nineteen-inch waist, protested bending as far as I had to to feed and drink.

I drank a lot of the tepid water to replace all the fluid that had sweated out during a day in latex, then tried the small, beige nuggets in the feed trough.  It was a most welcome and pleasant surprise to discover that these really weren’t that bad for many of the plain breakfast cereals I'd been made to eat before had tasted worse.  OK, it wasn’t sugar-frosted, corn flakes, or chocolate crunchies, but it wasn’t shredded wheat, either.  Sugar and milk would have helped my feed taste better.

With nothing better to do after having eaten enough and peeing again, I moved to the centre of my stall and lay down.  The straw poked its sharp ends into me everywhere my flesh wasn’t covered, which was most of it.  Despite what you might think, though it irritated me, it beat the hell out of sleeping just as naked on bare, cold concrete! I’d been chained that way for many nights and this was far better.

“Black Blaze is sleeping soundly.  She looks quite peaceful.”

It wasn’t a dream in the complete darkness of the stable.  I had heard it.  A female voice.  I raised my head, but saw nothing even though straining to hear and to see.  Nothing.  Once I lay my head down again, I tried to fall asleep.  I heard the latch bolts of the outer door and was comforted that they had checked on me to assure themselves that there were no problems. It had to have been more than one person or she’d not have spoken. Sleep returned quickly.

I was still asleep when the gate to my stall being opened awakened me.  I struggled to stand and curtsey to Valerie.  She giggled.

“Ponygirls don’t curtsey, Black Blaze.”  I cocked my head, smiled at her and dipped a more formal curtsey causing her to laugh.

“OK.  You are trying.  Got to give you a lot of credit and I’ve trained a lot of ponygirls.  After your first night in a stall, you seem to be doing better than your predecessors.”  I curtseyed again.  Valerie’s gloved hand slapped my thigh.

“Stop that, OK? You're welcome, but I do not want you doing that again.  Not with me or anyone else.  Next time it will be the whip and not a light slap of my hand.  Do not do it again, Black Blaze!”  I gave a slight dip, again, with a smile.  “Stop doing that, I’m serious.”

“Pee, shit, water and feed.”  A questioning look flooded Valerie’s face when she turned from me and looked at the feed trough.  Moving to look in the straw Valerie crouched and felt the straw beneath the trough as if searching in it for something.  A puzzled look was still on her face when she moved to exit, closed and latched the gate.  Still seemingly puzzled, she stared at me a few minutes before leaving.


“What’s up, Val? You're not yourself.”  Chuck knew her moods better than any other, especially as they ate the bacon, eggs and biscuits.  Not answering her partner, Val turned toward Rich.

“How much?”

“How much what? My plate is more than full enough.  I really don't need or want more to eat thanks Val.”

“How much? How much for Black Blaze?”

Chuck almost spilt his tea.  He had stamped the three inch steel disk the evening before and now knew what Val was talking about.

“Whatever.” Rich resumed eating his breakfast.

“How much do you want for your slave girl? I want that ponygirl!”  This time Chuck did spill.  Val was definitely a domme, but she had never owned a real slave.

“Monica? You want her? We all know she’s not a ponygirl, Val. We’ve only just started played with her.  You can’t be serious. Slave girls like her are a dime a dozen!”

“I want her corsets too.  Nothing else.  I'm serious.  “Ten Thousand for her corsets and ten cents for her.  Will you accept my check, credit card, or do you require cash?”

“Fifty for her and her entire wardrobe included.  Yes, I’ll take your check, Val.”

She reached into her purse and wrote a check before her breakfast was cold.

“I’d like a bill of sale, when your time permits, please?”

Val ate with vigour while the men ate slowly and quietly until all were finished.

“I’d like to make a suggestion.”


"If you’ll permit me to accompany you on your trout fishing expedition today, I’ll pack us a super picnic and offer the services of my ponygirl to carry all of your gear."

“You’re on.”  Chuck stated as they heard a truck pull up.

“Must be Homer, to shoe her.  Think you can stamp out another identity disk, showing me as her owner and not just her trainer before he is done, Chuck? Pretty please?”



Val had dressed that morning in red cowgirl boots; tight Western cut blue jeans and a pink gingham shirt and as it was a still chilly in the morning air, she pulled on a fringed, suede jacket.

“Mornin’, Homer.  Lookin’ good.”

“Mornin’ ma’am.  As always, you're lookin’ pretty good yourself.”

“Thanks.  Let me get my hat and gloves and we’ll get to it."

“Why not pull around and back up near the stable.”

Opening the gate to Black Blaze’s stall, Val saw her shivering in her nakedness, for Summer was still months away, but with the sun rising over the mountains, it would soon warm up.  Val knew she’d have to make some accommodations for her ponygirl's health before Winter, but she also wanted Black Blaze to become accustomed to her nakedness and what her body would have to accept.

With the hobble still in place Val led her new ponygirl out of the stable on the single rein, it held close to her halter.  For the first time in quite a while, this very well trained, obedient slave girl balked and her rein tightened with a jerk when she tried to go back into the stable.

As a slave girl, Monica had put herself on public display almost daily, wearing outlandish make-up and attiring herself to make most fetishists pulsate, but one thing she did not do with strangers, or those not in the scene, was to expose her breasts like they were then.  Call it her hang-up, but it upset her terribly and she could not explain this anymore than anyone understood it.  It was the only concession her owners had made to her and although Val had never had this explained to her she reacted by harshly applying the crop to Black Blaze’s rump. 

“Homer isn’t going to hurt you.”  The crop fell again.

Black Blaze, her eyes squeezed tight with tears streaming down from them, shook her head side to side. Her mind was screaming and begging and she was also fighting strongly to regain control.  Monica wanted to be a slave girl and she wanted to be the best.  No one had kidnapped her or blackmailed and forced her into becoming what she was.

Val tugged firmly on her rein and applied her crop again in a quick flurry of slashes, but Black Blaze didn't respond as the welts formed on her white skin.  It was her own control and not the pain being inflicted that caused her to slowly start to move in the direction that her rein was pulling and with her eyes still closed, she was led from the stable.

They stayed closed while Homer nailed the steel shoes to her hooves and her tears slowly stopped, but her body still trembled while he put the shoeing tools back in the chest.

“I’ve a nice present for you, Black Blaze.”  Valerie had stopped hitting her with the crop as soon as the ponygirl had begun to obey.  She too was undergoing a mental struggle.

Being a good dominatrix, Val had a very good understanding of a slave girl’s mind.  This she had gained by putting herself in the role to experience what slave girls felt and thought about.  Val took this as a responsibility and played it for real.  When Chuck had applied the leather to her thighs the previous morning, the welts left behind were just as purple and hurt just as much as those forming on Black Blaze as the sun rose.

“Open your eyes and take a look.”

Black Blaze shook her head ‘no’ and refused.  She was putting up with the strange man touching her and looking at her nakedness, but she was not going to open her eyes to look at him.

“Come on, be a good ponygirl and look! You won’t be able to see it after it is put on you.”

Black Blaze did not care if she did or did not.  She shook her head, ‘no’, again and refused to open her eyes until the man left.

“Come! I’ll put you back in your stall.”  As soon as Valerie latched its gate, Black Blaze sank into the straw and began to cry again, but by the time Valerie had returned, her tears had stopped.

“Kneel up.” Valerie gave a gentle tug to the cheek strap and Black Blaze rose to her knees.

“I’m going to fix your hair and makeup.  While I do, I want you to explain to me what that was all about earlier. I want to understand you.”

“I can’t give you or want me to tell you why, Mistress.  If I understood it maybe I could explain it.”  Black Blaze spoke just above a whisper with her voice quaking.  “I have been unable to accept strangers, those not in the scene seeing my bare tits.”

“Suppose I’d told you that Homer was in the scene?”

“Then I would believe that my Mistress told lies and nothing she would ever say again could be fully accepted as truth.  It is very important for a slave girl to trust her Mistress.  That is impossible believing that she had been told lies.”

Valerie sighed.  What Black Blaze had just said was one of the foundations of any good relationship, in or out of the scene.  She could never argue that it was not.

Nothing was said for the ten minutes it took to have her ponygirl’s face looking as it had the morning before when Monica had created it.  The only thing different was that her blaze now ran all of the way up her nose to the middle of her forehead.  A touch of the gray powder added a bit on the point of the ponygirl’s chin.

“What can I do to correct the serious problem about others seeing your tits, Black Blaze? I’m not going to put a bra on you and I’m not hiding my property here in the stable until I sell you.”  That got Black Blaze’s full attention.  She had heard it clearly and believed she understood it.

“You bought me, Mistress? Master sold me?”

“Yes and yes.  I’ll try very hard never to lie to you, ponygirl.  I own you.

“The present that is now hanging from the big ring in your ear is your identity disk.  It reads, ‘PONYGIRL - BLACK BLAZE - OWNED & TRAINED BY - MISTRESS VALERIE RUMSON’, all in caps.  Below that is my e-mail address.”

“I do not know a solution, Mistress.”  Black Blaze accepted that she was now the property of a Mistress easily.  Given a choice of a Master or a Mistress, a mistress was hers.  Accepting that she had been sold to a Master several years before, had been another real problem in her slave life.  Rich had proved to her that he was a good Master and Monica had eventually started to enjoy being owned by him.

“Mistress, I will try really hard to deal with this problem and work to over come it.  Please, if your slave girl tries hard, will you go slowly with me on this? I promise you I will try my best to please you.”

“I will not make my slave girl any promise over this.  I’ll tell you that I’ll try, but that’s all I’ll do.

“One thing more you must do.  I want you to stop thinking of yourself as a slave girl.  You are no longer, ‘Slave Girl Monica’.  You are now an owned animal, no longer human.  You are my ponygirl.  You are a ponygirl whom I’ve named ‘Black Blaze’.”

“If you tattoo my blaze, ponygirl Black Blaze would never forget her name or what she is, Mistress.”  Black Blaze gave her new owner a small smile.

“OK, no more talking without permission, Black Blaze.”  Valerie was now in a much better mood.  “Stand.”  There was a second set of chain tethers fixed to the walls of the stall, before she clipped these to the halter, Valerie grasped her halter and moved her ponygirl to the trough then bent to let her drink her fill.  Now unable to move her head more than six inches, Valerie left Black Blaze and went back to the cabin.

Carrying a heavy, black leather pack containing the men's fishing gear and a very elegant lunch, Valerie set it in the corridor and brought her ponygirl out on a rein to be fitted.

“I’m going to try very hard to do this right, give me a little kick if I ever forget, mean that.  Never, and I do mean never, do I want you to either to be un-tethered without at least one rein attached. You will always be leashed inescapably to something solid so that you will be unable to move away, or I will always keep a firm grip on your tack or one of your rings. You'll not be uncontrolled ever again, not even for a second.  I know you can’t escape from your stall, but you’ll always be tethered in there as well.

Before removing her halter, Valerie clipped a side chain tether to each of Black Blaze’s nipple rings.  Twisting her waist length ponytail into a very tight spiral, she threaded it into a thin, six inch long steel cone, pulling it out as she lowered the new bridle about Black Blaze’s head.  Her near black hair now rose straight up from top of her head before spilling over to cascade down her back.

As soon as she had all of the heavy leather harness strapped snugly, Valerie transferred the tethers to rings on her cheeks - one at a time.

“My ponygirl is going to have a tail as beautiful as her mane.”

The tail had to be even fuller and longer and its colour was a perfect match.  Seeing the two and a half inch by nearly eight-inch pear that Valerie dipped in a jar of thick oil, Black Blaze had no doubts about where it was going to be placed.  “There is a catch to hook that to your chastity belt, Black Blaze, so you don’t need to worry about losing your tail.”

“I don’t know how you feel about your collar.  It may have been super for a slave girl like Monica, but it just does not belong on my ponygirl, regardless of the engraving.  It's going to be replaced with another as soon as I have the key for I don't want to destroy it to get it off.  You can expect the chastity belt to stay put.  I don’t tolerate bestiality and I’ve no intentions of ever breeding you.”

Large curved blinders were next snapped in place beside her eyes, and Val began to fit the rest of the harness she had on hand. A custom made set of tack would be made for Black Blaze.  First, a wide girth was buckled about her corseted waist then a strap was worked up high into Black Blaze’s armpit to fasten around her breasts, then another below them.  Rising from her girth were three straps in front toward each and in the middle these looped through fittings on the lower chest belt to return and buckle to the girth.  Three stitched straps in the same area held the two chest belts together.

“When you get your new collar fitted there will be a centre strap to go from here,” Valerie pressed her red gloved fingers in Black Blaze’s cleavage, “to the collar, same in back."

The shoulder straps, from beside the ponygirl’s breasts, crossed behind, under the U-glove, to buckle to the girth.

“If you were one of those unbelted ponygirls, Black Blaze, your harness below your waist would be different.  Your chastity belt is going to be part of your harness.  I want whatever burden is connected to be borne by your whole body.”  Her chastity belt had rings on the front shield, at the top of the back strap and both sides on the waistband and in a moment straps were threaded to connect them with her girth.

“I know that most ponygirls like attention from their owners and I plan on tending to you a lot. I've always wanted a pet.”  Valerie started to go over every strap she had placed, snugging them up to an unrelenting tension.  Black Blaze pressed her breasts to her owner with a smile.  “You like that idea, huh?”

Black Blaze tried to move so that her nipples could touch Valerie’s causing Val to giggle when she backed away and the two tethers stopped the ponygirl from reaching her target. Val brushed her nipples with the backs of her hands.

“Tell you what, you try hard to do a good job for me today and I’ll play with you a bit later.” Black Blaze whinnied. 

Valerie hefted the heavy pack.  She'd weighed it and decided that forty-one pounds wasn't too much for a ponygirl the size of Black Blaze, even if she had yet to be trained and conditioned properly.  There was plenty of room for more still inside.

The pack and shoulder straps of the harness were designed to integrate, with catches on the underside of the pack, simply clipping to rings at the top of the ponygirl’s shoulders.  Straps on each side at the bottom attached to her girth and Valerie quickly adjusted them.

“Now, just your bit and reins, then you’re all set for your day.”

Both of the men approved of how Black Blaze looked. They’d not seen her since Val had taken the rubber clad Slave Girl Monica to the stables and when Rich reached out to touch the ponygirl’s breasts, Val blocked his hand with the stiff, four-foot whip.

“Please? Don’t.  Black Blaze is very skittish after a trying experience for both of us earlier.  I would ask that no one touch her or her tack without my permission, OK?” Val was firm.   Rich snorted.

“Let me guess.  If she wasn’t covered anymore that she is now, it was that stupid silliness of hers."

“Can you imagine, Chuck? Monica gets herself all upset if strangers see her big tits!”  Knowing the look all to well on Valerie’s face, Chuck knew too it would not serve his interests well if he continued the conversation.

“Let’s go fishing, Rich.  We’ll let Val and her pack animal bring up the rear.”  He started up the hill and Rich joined at his side.  Valerie waited until they were twenty yards away.

“I’ll work with you on the problem.  You heard what I just said to him.  I mean to protect my investment and property, Black Blaze.”  They stared at each other for a moment.

“Mistress may I speak, just a minute? Then I’ll be quiet.”  Black Blaze slurred her words badly with the U-shaped, rubber-covered bit in her mouth.  Val gave a nod.

“I’m helpless, now.  I have to trust you and I do.  The chances of us meeting someone else may be pretty slim around here, but there is a chance.  When we do, I want you to make no attempt to prevent them from seeing me.  I want you to act with strangers like it’s a perfectly normal thing to own and use a naked ponygirl - just as common as automobiles.

“Please Mistress, make no excuses and offer no explanations? I’ll behave.”  Black Blaze tried to close her lips to stop the drool that oozed, but her bit would not permit that.

“I said that I’d make you no promises, but I’ll try my best to do as you just asked.”  Val turned quickly and gave a light twitch on the reins.  “Come! I want to catch up with the guys." She started a slow jog before they lost them.

By the time they reached the top and started to descend, Black Blaze was panting and sweating.  Her hobble was now longer, at eighteen inches, but even so, she was restricted to smaller steps and had to take nearly twice as many a Val, even at a walk.  Monica had learned not to let her ankle chain tighten on each step or she’d stumble and likely fall.

Valerie knew it too and had learned the same way Monica had ... by falling.  She wanted Black Blaze’s legs exercised not just take her on a leisurely stroll but for more strenuous activities to come.  The hobble helped ensure that they would get a proper workout by forcing many repetitions of the movements

There was another reason Val was going to keep the new ponygirl hobbled until her training had progressed.  Its presence would make her concentrate on how she moved, to think and not just move without thinking as a human does.  This would occupy a little of her mind and keep it from thinking about things a human might have and distract her.

Valerie intended to have Black Blaze’s mind become that of a ponygirl’s: stopping thinking all together as a human does.  No, she did not want her as a mindless vegetable - that was simple enough to accomplish - she wanted Black Blaze to know and sense pain, then work to avoid it. She wanted her to think of self-preservation, to fear, to avoid danger, to learn and respond to commands, and all of the other things that any intelligent animal did by instinct alone.  It would even be nice if she developed a strong desire to please – to anticipate and satisfy her owner’s aspirations and too, Val wanted her to be happy and to love, if that were possible.

Erased would be stress and worry, mental exercises done for the challenges they provided, material desires and perceived needs that weren’t needs at all.

“We’re here guys.”

Ten feet behind the two men, Val slowed to a walk.

“I’m going to be working with my ponygirl as we walk to the river.  If we fall behind, don’t fret, I know the trail and we’ll eventually get there.”

“Do what you want Val.  We’re fine.”

Like a puppy dog, Monica had played that game too. She heeled and tried to keep her two reins slack at all times.  Other than trying to please her owner doing what she believed the proper thing for a ponygirl, Black Blaze had another reason to try and maintain slack in her reins, for they were connected to the lower set of lever arms below her mouth. When they were tensioned, the U-shaped bit pressed down on the back of her tongue and forced her mouth to open and were it not for the snug curb chain under Black Blaze’s chin, a hard pull on the reins would easily dislocate her jaw.  With the curb strap to prevent any such injury, only pain would be the result.

“Move ahead of me, so I can observe your gait and work toward improving it.”

With Black Blaze in front, Val had the opportunity to put her whip to use as an instructional and correctional tool.  She just tapped the tip of it to both of her cheeks and thighs, making the ponygirl aware that it was there and ready to be used.

Val watched her ponygirl move, paying attention to her gait especially.  They went about twenty feet and she noticed the ankle chain try to catch on a rock, then about the same distance further along, she watched a small, fallen branch catch on it and turn over.  Nothing else. 

The air was still cool enough for both men to keep their heavy shirts on and for Val to still to retain her jacket, 'though she had unbuttoned it, but Black Blaze’s naked body was covered with a sheen of sweat and the drool that dipped from her chin to slide down her bouncing breasts.  Early on, Black Blaze had given up any attempts to stop it dripping from her lips. She simply could not close them.

The ponygirl was breathing heavier than normal, but this was expected given her tight corset, the load she had to carry and the higher altitude.  Thanks to her previous bike riding to and from work, the housework she did, and sex games Rich had played, she was in very good shape, with with strong well-toned muscles.  Black Blaze was not being physically stressed and was in fact, enjoying the walk in the mountains.

Of course there were lots of physical irritants: the constant tugging on all of her steel rings, the weight of her large breasts bouncing about with every step, the hobble she felt catch things as her hooves passed, and that her rigid, steel shod hooves could not feel anything they trod upon.  Black Blaze could and was dealing with these and pushing them aside.

She pushed them so far back in her mind they almost ceased to exist for she'd learned how to deal with the acute itch that seemed to always occur the moment her hands were bound in a way that she could not scratch or rub it.  After being punished many times Monica had accepted and pushed back the constant unyielding constriction, her limited movements and restricted breathing that a tight corset imposed once the laces had been tied off.

There were, however, two new irritants: her bit and the large plug up her ass were things that she was not dealing with in the same way.  Black Blaze, if there was even a way to push them back with all of the others had not yet learned how to do it and so they were there, constantly in her mind.

Something else was always on her mind: how to obtain sexual gratification. She desperately wanted it just as Monica had wanted it and now they both craved for either someone playing with her clit and bringing her to climax or orgasm, or doing it herself. It was impossible though! Ever since Rich had locked his slave girl Monica in the chastity belt, and it now remained locked in place on Black Blaze’s hot loins, there was to be no ultimate satisfaction.

If Rich had wanted sexual satisfaction and Monica’s warm, moist lips and tongue were not enough; he would open her steel belt and then use Monica’s tight ass and/or her moist love hole until he exploded with pleasure.  Once he was satisfied he'd clean her, then promptly relock her belt, taking whatever time was needed to always assure himself that all of her sexual equipment was properly in place before he closed the lock, denying her any sort of pleasure.

When he'd locked her belt the very first time Rich had told Slave Girl Monica that as long as he owned her, he would never again permit her to receive any physical, sexual pleasure except at his hand.  He had kept his word.  Never had Rich lied to her, or ever given her any reason not to trust him.

Whenever she'd been used (there was no other word, than used) for his pleasure, her hands had been restrained in ways so she could not use them for her own pleasure.  When not being used to satisfy himself, Monica’s hot and supremely sensitive slit and clit were protected, absolutely armoured from her or anyone else manipulating them and providing the pleasure she so desperately craved.

They had trekked some distance from the cabin and Valerie had been using her lash to teach Black Blaze to prance as she walked and by now the undersides of both of her thighs were striped with red welts, but they were just sharp stings.  Valerie delivered an undercut each and every time the top of the ponygirl’s thigh was not raised to at least horizontal.

Black Blaze would be taught this lesson for as long as it took her to learn to execute each step in this manner and on the return, Val would begin teaching her to snap her raised hoof down smartly.  She was not seeking to make Black Blaze a Champion Show Ponygirl, but only desired her to be pretty while working.

To, the cuts of the crop were also being taught to exercise her legs and make them stronger and Val would further teach Black Blaze to obey commands delivered with only via the whip: to teach obedience and a desire to perform in a manner her owner desired, but there was one more reason why Valerie was using her whip. It's frequent and unmerciful employment was another thing that would occupy a considerable space in Black Blaze’s mind.  Her's was a mind and brain that Val wanted to belong only to a ponygirl and be devoid of all human thought.

They had crested a long hill and even the two men had paused for a breather from the climb.  They took off their flannel shirts and Val snatched them before they could tie them, as guys usually do, about their hips.

“I have a pack animal, remember?”  She slipped out of her suede jacket and took a hard look at Black Blaze while she folded it.

The ponygirl was panting hard and sweating, but even so in her bondage and carrying the pack, she stood straight and barely moved but for her heaving breasts.  She had not balked once during the two mile walk to the river that was now just below them.

Val was very puzzled by what she had observed all morning and thought that she really did not know how a slave girl thought. She certainly did not understand the one she now owned.

“You guys go and start fishing. I’ll be down as soon as I think Black Blaze has rested enough, half hour or so.”

“All our gear is in the pack.” Rich protested.

“She needs to rest. It’s her first time.”  Val protested his lack of understanding, glaring at him. She felt a tug on the reins in her left hand. and looking, Val saw that Black Blaze had started to pick her way down the steep path to the river.

“I wasn’t thinking.”  It was a begrudged mutter to the men.  Val followed the tugging reins as if they were leading her, not the owner leading her ponygirl......