What had been so unusual and exotic the previous morning was now established as routine. Being stripped, washed, toiletted and re-dressed, then being put in the paddock for breakfast were all as before. The morning training session was also the same, although it seemed that, as we got fitter, the training became more intense, really pushing us to the point of exhaustion.

What could never be routine, however, were the games the three of us played when we were left alone in the paddock. I had seen the phrase ‘ponyplay’ before, and it seemed the perfect description of what we were doing. There was much touching although, because we didn't have the use of our hands, this took the form of rubbing our bodies, slick with suncream and sweat, together – breast to breast, thigh to thigh, loins against buttocks, bosom against shoulder blades, all were incredibly sensual, erotic and arousing.

There was a lot of kissing, licking and sucking going on as well of course, much of it sexually charged, targeting mouth, breasts, nipples or clitoris, but not all. As with the rubbing together, a lot of it was for reassurance, comfort after a bad fall or a tough training session, or just because it looked like the other girl needed it. This might be delivered as a kiss on the shoulder, stomach or buttock, depending on what was easily accessible at the time.

I assumed that the afternoon would be taken up with further circuits of the showjumping arena, and I prepared myself mentally for the challenge - I was definitely going to get that perfect score today! However, Chloe and the others had something completely different planned for us.

The reins were fitted to the bit,  but we were only taken to the stables, where we were ordered to stand and wait. The girls went inside and then a few minutes later emerged, pulling a small, two-wheeled buggy! They brought it over to where we were standing and then went back inside, bringing out two more. I looked around and realised for the first time that Belle had not joined us after lunch - she obviously wasn't going to be included in the afternoon's activity. So there was one small carriage for each of us!

Chloe led me to the end of the long metal poles - traces, I think they're called - which protruded forward from the buggy, and between which the pony - or, in this case, ponygirl - would be harnessed. The buggy itself was little more than a bench seat, wide enough for one person, and a footplate, with a wheel at either side. The only other thing I noticed, although it did attract and hold my attention, was a vertical metal tube on one side of the seat, which held a long riding whip. I didn't fancy that being used on me!

I could see that the shafts were joined by a wide leather belt. Chloe lifted the shafts and backed me between them until the belt was against the small of my back. Three buckles fastened the belt tight across my stomach and hips. Chloe unhooked my wrists from my shoulders, reattaching them to the shafts on either side, and there I was, harnessed and ready for action!

I tested the weight of the buggy, taking a step forward and a step back, turning a little to one side and then back the other way. It turned out that it was quite a light contraption, and pulling it was no more work than pulling a wheelbarrow, or a couple of suitcases heading through the airport. I saw that Scheherazade and Scarlett had both been similarly restrained, and our trainers now led us in a line, each handler walking in front, holding the reins.

We came to a path which stretched away in either direction, and we were led out onto it. It was a kind of compacted light-coloured dirt, quite smooth, and I found the buggy easier to pull than on the grass. Chloe drew me to a halt and then put the reins over my shoulders, before walking behind me. Instinctively, I tried to look around to see what she was doing, but the collar prevented me turning my head, the harness of the cart prevented me turning my body, and the blinkers prevented me from seeing anything except what was in front of me - it made me realise that I was even more restricted than I had been before in the training sessions.

I heard the squeak of springs behind me, and the shafts of the cart to which I was attached swung upwards, taking me by surprise for a moment before I recognised what was happening - Chloe had climbed into the seat of the buggy.

"Walk on," I heard from behind me, and I felt the touch of the whip against my buttock, not hitting me, just prompting me to move. As soon as I stepped forward, I could feel the extra weight behind me, and I had to lean forward and strain somewhat to get the thing moving.

Once the wheels were rolling and we were in motion, I walked along the path relatively easily, although it did require extra effort to pull the driver as well as the cart. But then I felt the left rein shortening, pulling the bit between my teeth to one side, making me choke a little on the plate on my tongue, and making the metal bar dig painfully into the corner of my mouth. I tried to alleviate the discomfort by turning my head, and by twisting in the harness, but the tension on the rein was maintained. Unable to do anything else, I swerved the whole cart to the left until I was moving across the path as much as along it. At this point, I was relieved to feel the tension released, and the bit stop cutting into me. I had clearly just completed my first turn.

I wondered whether I should straighten up and head down the centre of the path, as I had been doing before, but I was nervous that this would only result in another painful correction. But we were running off the edge of the path, and I was actually on the grass, although the wheels of the cart were, just, still on the smooth surface. At that moment, the right rein was tugged and, responding a little more urgently, I turned to the right until the pressure stopped. Now I was veering across the path to the other side.

We proceeded in this fashion for quite a while, and it was obvious that Chloe was doing this to teach me about responding to her commands, transmitted through the reins. When she felt that I was obeying as quickly as possible, without hesitation, she straightened us up and we continued down the path until we reached a T-junction. I waited for the silent command, and then turned to the left as ordered.

"Giddyup!" I heard, and felt the reins slap against my shoulders, making me visualise a stagecoach driver in an old Western urging his horse to speed up. In response, I leaned further forward, strained harder, and moved up to a trot.

"Come on pony, giddyup!" Again, the reins flicked against my shoulders, and I forced myself to drag the buggy until I was cantering down the path, sucking in oxygen and feeling the effort in my thighs and calf muscles. Suddenly, a sharp pain across my shoulder blades told me that I had just been whipped, and not in a playful or ‘prompting’ manner - this was a serious hurry-up! She whipped me again, then a third time and, desperately, I shot forward, now running as fast as I could.

I was blowing hard, my lungs aching as spittle flew from my lips, and my muscles burning from the build-up of lactic acid, but I didn't dare to slow down for fear of the whip. I was on the point of exhaustion, my legs ready to buckle at the knees, when I felt the bit pulled sharply back in my mouth.

"Whoa!" came the command. Gratefully, I began to slow, working out as I did so how to counter the momentum of the carriage, which was now pushing me forward rather than me pulling it. Finally, we reached a halt and I stood there, gasping for breath, desperately hoping that that was the end of a lesson I would not have to repeat anytime soon.

"Well done, Bright Eyes, you did very well." Chloe was standing in front of me, mopping the sweat from my brow, and the drool from my chin and breasts, with a cloth. She held up a plastic bottle and squirted cool, sweet water into my mouth, which I drank greedily, then into my face and over my head. It was so refreshing that I was pathetically grateful to the young girl, almost forgetting that it was she who had driven me so hard, and whipped me so mercilessly. It was strange - I feared her and loved her at the same time.

As I started to recover, I looked around as best I could, and noticed that we were close by the showjumping ring. There was a ponygirl there being led around the course, and I realised that it was Belle - so this is what she's doing, I thought, rather than the carriage driving. It struck me how quickly things change - yesterday, jumping over fences had seemed so extreme and yet now, when I was being made to gallop along pulling my trainer in a cart, it seemed so safe and easy. Funny how your perspective can change in a trice.

Chloe mounted the buggy again and, with a flick of the whip and a slap of the reins, the drive continued. I could hear the other ponies and traps behind me but, of course, I didn't see them, so had no idea how they were getting on - I was in my own little world, concentrating only on the subtle changes in the tension of the reins, trying to detect any command before it resulted in pain. I was brought up to a gentle canter this time, which I was able to sustain for much longer without becoming distressed.

And so it went on, following these paths around the property, never having to double back on our tracks, indicating that the hotel and stables were set in quite a considerable acreage of grounds. From what I saw, it was largely fields and pastures, some fenced and containing cattle or sheep, but my view was so restricted that I never got a clear impression of the whole place.

From the bends and turns in the path, and from the pain in the left side of my mouth, I guessed we were going in a generally circular or square route and, at one point, I got a view of the hotel to my left, indicating that we were going round it.

At another point further on, we must have approached closer to the hotel, because I could hear the sound of voices, and splashing, quite close by. We were going past a row of Poplar trees to my left at the time, and I desperately hoped that these were hiding us from view, because I was sure that, only a few yards away, quite a large number of people were chatting and playing by the pool!

The thought that ‘ordinary’ people might be looking at me in my ponygirl harness, pulling a cart, gave me strangely mixed feelings - part fear, part humiliation and embarrassment, and a combination of fluttering in my stomach and tingling in my pussy which signalled extreme arousal.

But there were no cries of surprise, no people rushing to find out why a naked girl with a tail in her arse was going by, so I guessed they didn't see me. We were soon out of earshot, and a sense of relief washed over me - accompanied, maybe, by just a hint of disappointment. These reactions shocked me - what kind of pervert was I turning into?

By the time we returned to the stables, I was dead on my feet and the afternoon was fading. I pulled the cart into the stable block, where Chloe released me and led me, along with Scheherazade and Scarlett, to the paddock. I slumped to the ground, sprawling on the grass as if someone had shot me to put me out of my misery. If only they would, I thought momentarily, but it wasn't serious - I knew the aches and pains I was feeling would pass, sooner or later, and my enjoyment would return.

After a few minutes, I managed to drag myself up onto my elbows, and I saw that, while Scarlett looked as shattered as me, Scheherazade seemed fine - a little red in the face and sweaty, but standing and looking down at us piteously. I began to suspect that this was not her first time pulling a buggy or, indeed, her first time as a ponygirl - she just seemed too familiar with the routine, too fit, and just too damn good at everything!

I stared at her in wonder, once more mesmerised by the tone of her muscled body and the swell of her succulent breasts. Unable to stop myself, I got to my feet and staggered over to her, bending down and taking one of her nipples into my mouth, running my tongue around it, feeling it become stiff. She just stood there, as if condescending to allow me to pleasure her in this way.

I sucked her other nipple before, as if too tired to stand, I slid down her slick body, falling to my knees, until her plump vulva were before me. I set about kissing and licking her hot flesh and erect clitoris as ardently as I imagined I would snog a boyfriend - that is, if I ever had a boyfriend, rather than just the quick wham-bam-thankyou-mam which was my sole sexual experience before coming here. Although, the way things were going, it looked like I was destined to be a lesbian, given my reaction to the dark-skinned beauty I was currently pleasuring.

I couldn't wait to hit the hay, as it were, after we had eaten our delightful meal of table scrapings and kitchen rejects. Almost as soon as I lay down on my straw bed, I was asleep, and I didn't stir again until the tinny blare of the transistor radio trumpeted the wonders of the new day into my sleepy brain.

There was a change to the start of the morning routine that day. Chloe had dressed me in my harness and bridle after cleaning me and, as she released one of my arms, I assumed I was about to be taken out to the paddock as usual. Instead, she left my other arm restrained against the bar above my head whilst she unbuckled the strap around my forearm and removed the hoof-glove, releasing my hand for the first time in three days. To say I was surprised would be an understatement - what was going on?

Chloe manipulated my wrist and fingers, gradually working out the stiffness that had built up from being largely restricted for such a long time, and I couldn't help groaning at the discomfort this induced. Once movement was pain-free, she carefully washed the newly-exposed skin and trimmed my nails. Finally, she applied hand cream and then replaced the hoof, strapping it on tight and restraining it once more above me. She repeated this on my other hand, before moving on to my feet.

She stood behind me and lifted my leg, holding it tight between her thighs, then unlacing the boot and pulling it off my foot. She manipulated my ankle as she had done my wrists, but this was much more painful as they had been held at exactly the same angle the whole time I had been wearing the boots. I cried out as she twisted my foot into positions which, while perfectly normal, initially felt like she was breaking my ankle. This manipulation took much longer and, once she had washed the foot and checked my toenails, she spent several minutes massaging cream into the sole and heel, which felt absolutely divine. I groaned when I felt her pulling the boot back on, knowing that the discomfort would gradually return. Without a word, she went on to ‘treat’ my other foot.

The morning session was spent pulling the buggy rather than the circuit training we had done the previous two days. While the work was more interesting, in that I got to see my surroundings - at least, that bit I could see between the blinkers on either side of my face - it was much harder, harder even than the first session the previous afternoon. It was clear that Chloe was working to build up my strength and stamina but, by the time we stopped for the midday break, I was completely spent, and could do nothing but lie on the ground and doze.

The afternoon was worse. I was led to some other part of the property and, as I was turned sharply to the left, I found myself looking at a large, grassy hill. There was no path leading to the hill, or up it, but Chloe made me turn onto the grass and trot towards it. Pulling the cart across the uneven surface of the field was much harder than it had been on the path, and then I felt the ground beneath me begin to rise.

I was soon reduced to a walk and, as the slope became steeper, just moving forward became more and more difficult. I dug the toe of my ‘hooves’ into the dirt and put all my effort into the climb while, at the same time, trying to cope with the ‘encouragement’ I was receiving.

“Come on, Bright Eyes, you can do it!” Chloe was urging from behind as she slapped me with the reins, then lashed me harshly with the whip. I could feel the edge of the leather harness belt cutting into the skin of my abdomen and over my hips but, in response to the whip, I strained even more, keeping the buggy inching onwards and upwards.

Suddenly, I heard a noise to my right and, a few moments later, I saw the legs of Scheherazade and the wheels of her cart as they passed me on the way to the summit. She seemed to be having little difficulty, striding purposefully up as if she were still on the flat, and I envied her supreme fitness.

Eventually, somehow, I made it to the top, and felt the reins pulling me to stop. I was gasping for breath and my muscles were aching, but I’d made it! Chloe dismounted and came around to spray water in my face and into my gaping mouth, making me cough horrendously as I accidentally breathed it instead of swallowing it. As I stood there feeling like I was about to expire, I looked over at my fellow ponygirl, only to find that she hardly even seemed to be breathing hard as she calmly stretched her legs, as if getting ready to do it all again. I came very close to hating her at that point!

Just then, I heard a cry from somewhere behind me, and realised that Scarlett was still struggling her way up. There were further cries, and then the sound of a whip cracking, followed by forlorn sobbing. A couple of minutes later, one of the grooms appeared, leading her pony by the reins. The girl took a bottle of water and hosed Scarlett with it, rubbing the dirt off her knees to reveal a nasty graze, which was bleeding down onto her boot. I felt a surge of empathy for the redhead, whilst simultaneously feeling guilty about my earlier self-pity.

I saw Scheherazade move forward in response to her driver’s prompt and begin the descent. A moment later, I felt Chloe get back into the buggy behind me and take up the reins, flicking them to signal me to move off and follow. Despite my aches and pains, I obeyed, falling into line behind the other carriage as it wound its way down the hill.

Going down revealed a whole new bunch of terrors to those of the ascent. The weight of carriage and driver kept pushing me forward, threatening to trip me and send me sprawling under its wheels as it rolled over me. I fought against it but, eventually, I couldn't hold it back any longer, and I was running uncontrollably down the slope, desperately trying just to get my feet on the ground without tripping or twisting an ankle. I felt the reins yanked back, but it had no effect, there was nothing I could do! I was terrified!

I was only saved by the fact that we reached the bottom of the hill and the ground below my flying feet levelled out. Gradually the cart and I slowed down, from a gallop to a trot and, finally, to a stop. My legs gave way beneath me and I fell to my knees, shaking from the adrenaline which had been pumping furiously around my system.

"There, there, pony," Chloe said calmingly, stroking my head, "it's all over now. You did very well." My heart was still pounding in my chest but my reaction, rather than one of terror or relief, was one of triumph - I had survived! Suddenly, rather than my worst nightmare, it seemed I had experienced the ride of a lifetime, the most incredible rollercoaster ever invented. I felt like some kind of danger junkie - I could do that again! I saw my Black Beauty, still as cool and calm as ever, turning and making her way back up the hill, and, quickly sobering up, I realised that I was going to have to do it again, whether I wanted to or not.

It did get easier. The climb was a struggle every time, getting harder as I got tired, but I managed to get control of the descent so that it wasn't actually life-threatening, for me or Chloe, and I got to enjoy the freedom of ‘letting go’ near the bottom. On what proved to be the last time down, Chloe whipped the reins against my back at the bottom of the slope, turning the free running into a fast gallop as we headed back to the path and, from there, all the way back to the stables.

As I lay back on the grass in the paddock, once more totally exhausted, Scheherazade crawled over, smiling down at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned down and kissed me, but I was honestly too tired to respond.

I was also too tired to respond when she sucked on my nipples but, when she moved further down, I couldn't help but begin to react to the insistent probing of her tongue. I still couldn't move, but my moans of arousal told her that I was definitely enjoying what she was doing, and she swung herself around and lowered her crotch into my face.

I managed to summon up enough energy to return the compliment she was paying me and, as my arousal grew, so my efforts began to match my enthusiasm. Soon, we were both whimpering and moaning ecstatically and, with a sudden discovery of hidden resources, I flicked her over so that she was now lying beneath me and I was in control. Except that, of course, I wasn't in control - certainly not of myself, as I was overwhelmed with a joyous orgasm, and it took all of my rapidly dissipating reserves of energy to bring her, screaming, to the same state. I fell on top of her, too tired even to roll off, and our hot, sweat-soaked bodies lay together for the longest time.

Supper and stabling for the night brought another hard but exciting day to an end. As I lay there, I was amazed that it had only been three full days since Conchita and I had arrived here. I wondered what she was doing at that precise moment. Whatever it was, I knew it couldn't be as intense or as exhilarating an experience as I was having. I felt that she was missing out, and I couldn't wait to tell her all about it when we next met. I fell asleep thinking about how astonished she would be, and wondering if she would be jealous…

Next morning, the radio told me that it was now Sunday, and it was going to be another long, hot day of this glorious summer. As we were hitched to our buggies and walked out into the early morning sun, I knew it was going to be a gruelling day as well. Chloe had me trot across the field to the path, and she made me do some light exercise, alternately walking and trotting, just to warm up for half an hour or so.

When we returned to the stable block, I was astonished to see that the paddock was full of ponygirls! There were about ten or a dozen women of various ages, ranging from my age to thirties, I would guess, in full tack, although they were all wearing some clothes - mostly in bikinis, some in lingerie, and a couple in full body suits, including hoods which covered their face, which looked horrendously hot in this weather. I wondered where they had all come from, and what they were doing here.

I guessed that these were weekend ponies - here just for the day to ‘play’ at being ponygirls - not ‘serious’ like the three of us! - or maybe this was a taster session, to see if they wanted to take it further. I noticed that Belle was among them, and we exchanged a smile and a nod of greeting. The other ponies - I mean women - were very excited and curious about the three ponygirls pulling the carts, and the grooms who were looking after them had to keep reminding them that "ponies don't talk!", although I noticed they didn't punish them - I guess that wouldn’t have been a good way to enthuse them about the whole ponygirl experience!

A crowd of other people now arrived at the paddock. Probably a dozen or so men and women, they were dressed normally, and they lined up at the rail, looking at the ponygirls and calling out to them. The ponygirls each made their way over to one of the people and, from the way the normally dressed people were talking and stroking the ponies, I assumed they were boyfriends or girlfriends come to see and admire their partner in all their ponygirl finery.

A group of three, a man and two women, were being led towards us by Chloe, who must have dismounted and gone over there whilst I was distracted, staring at the scene in front of me. With a jolt of surprise, I realised that one of them was Conchita!

"Sir, ladies, here are your ponies," Chloe said as the small group approached, "they are yours for the day, to do with as you see fit. We have provided food and drink for you, and water for your pony, in the sulky. Please feel free to explore the grounds. If you have a question, encounter a problem, or get lost, please use the walkie-talkie provided to contact us and we will sort it out. Enjoy your time with us!"

Conchita came up to me and stroked my face, feeling the way the bit stretched my lips, and how the bridle straps felt against my skin.

"My word, Bright Eyes," she said huskily with a smile, her hand dropping to my breasts and fondling them quite openly, "you do look fine! I'm really going to enjoy this!"

"Your pony is most beautiful!" The other woman was now standing alongside Conchita, looking at me appraisingly. She was dressed quite formally in a white blouse and calf-length skirt, compared to Conchita, who was just in a T-shirt and shorts. She was also wearing brown leather gloves and leather boots, which gave her the look of a horse rider. With her long, straight black hair down her back, her good looks, tall slender frame and perfect make-up, as well as her French accent, she came over as extremely sophisticated and confident.

"Hi, my name is Marianne, I'm the owner of Scheherazade here." Owner? I was rather shocked by the term, and wondered exactly what it meant. "Have you been here before?"

"Hello, I'm Conchita. No, it's our first time," Conchita replied.

"Why don't we team up and go out for the day together? I can show you some of my favourite places here."

"That sounds great," Conchita said enthusiastically, "and you can teach me about driving one of these little buggies, I've never done that before." The two of them walked out of my sight behind me, and I felt the sulky move as Conchita took her seat.

I was feeling really confused at this point - I hadn't imagined that my ‘friend’ would be driving me around, and I had no idea how to react - should I be affronted at this abuse of our friendship? Should I try to rebel? I had to remind myself that I was still in pony gear, harnessed to a cart. I didn't have a lot of options and, anyway, I was enjoying being a ponygirl, and had been expecting to spend the day being driven. Did it really matter if it was a friend doing the driving rather than a stranger? My doubts and confusion soon had to be put to one side as things moved rapidly.

"Okay," I heard Marianne say from behind me, "take up the reins and flip them against your pony to indicate that she should walk on." The reins duly slapped against my shoulders, and I took up the weight of the buggy, moving forward.

"Now, the left rein," Marianne went on, "and she'll turn, taking us onto the cart track." As the bit dug into the corner of my mouth, I turned the buggy and made my way to the path. Conchita struggled to get me going in a straight line, tugging the bit this way and that for a while but, eventually, she got the hang of it.

"Hey, this is really cool!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"It is good fun having your own pony, isn't it?" Marianne called out from alongside us, "let's try going a little quicker, shall we? Giddyup, Scheherazade!" My ponygirl friend appeared in my field of vision as she pulled her cart ahead of me.

"Giddyup, Bright Eyes!" I heard from behind, accompanied by a flick of the reins, and I began to trot. We made our way along the path, before reaching the T-junction where we had always previously turned left. However, Marianne steered the buggy ahead to the right and, for a few moments, I had the magnificent sight of Scheherazade and her sulky in profile, trotting along in front of me. But then Conchita was pulling on my reins and I was making the turn, still maintaining my trotting pace.

There, ahead of us, was a wonderful sight. The track widened into an avenue cut through the trees, rising towards a small, white structure on a hill. It was a folly, as you would see in the grounds of a stately home, a fake Greek temple, probably built by some Victorian landscape gardener to entertain the rich landowner.

"Okay, shall we see what these ponies can do?" Marianne called out. "Hold your reins in one hand, Conchita, and then pick up the whip!" I heard the distinctive crack, and the sulky alongside me shot forward as the beautiful black girl responded.

"Come on, Bright Eyes! Catch them up!" Conchita shouted and, at the same time, I felt the whip lash across my back. For a second, I had thought that she would hold back, struggling with the idea of hurting her friend, but that certainly wasn't the case! She hit me harder than Chloe ever had, and I felt the sting of the blow burning across my skin. I leapt forward in startled response, trying desperately to draw level with the other buggy.

But, it seemed, I wasn't trying hard enough, because Conchita hit me again and again, urging me to go faster. The ground was rising as we began to climb the incline, and I knew I had no chance of catching my super-fit friend. Still, as the whip now played across my buttocks, I forced myself to even greater efforts in the lost cause.

I think Scheherazade, or more likely Marianne, took pity on me. They slowed their pace until I could catch up, and we continued at a canter rather than a gallup.

"Don't be too hard on your pony, Conchita," I heard Marianne chiding, "Scheherazade here is the fittest animal I've ever seen, so it's no wonder if your poor little thing can't keep up."

At last, we reached the top of the hill and slowed down to a halt by the Greek temple.

"Water your pony, Conchita," Marianne said, walking around in front of Scheherazade and squirting water into her mouth and face. My friend, now my driver - perhaps my owner? - did the same for me, to my great relief.

The two women walked us forward and wrapped our reins around a hitching post, like you see in an old Western movie, then unloaded a couple of picnic baskets from the sulkies and sat down on the grass before us, in front of the temple. The baskets contained all manner of delights, including wine, cheese, crisp French bread and fruit. My mouth watered at the sight, and my tummy rumbled, but there was nothing for us. I was really starting to feel the separation now, between them, the people in charge, and us, the ponies. A sense of powerlessness began to overwhelm me.

"So, what is your relationship with this one?" Marianne asked conversationally, waving her glass of wine in my direction.

"Oh, we're just friends," Conchita replied, once she had swallowed the food in her mouth.

"Friends?" Marianne smiled, one eyebrow raised quizzically, "interesting. You are ‘just friends’, yet you are staying in a very comfortable hotel whilst she sleeps on straw in a stall. You enjoy fine dining while she eats your discarded leftovers. You spend your days relaxing by the pool, while she is trained to obey the bit and the whip, wielded by you. Is this how friendship works here?"

"Hey, it was her idea to come here!" Conchita responded rather defensively.

"I'm not criticising," the Frenchwoman said soothingly, "I merely point out that, perhaps you should re-evaluate your situation."

"How do you mean?" Conchita asked, brow furrowed.

"She is performing the role of ponygirl," Marianne continued, "she has submitted herself to this harsh training regime, and now she submits to being driven by you. That gives you a responsibility, no? What role will you play?"

"What do you suggest?"

"That is for you and her to decide, I think, not for me to suggest." They continued to eat in silence, Conchita looking at me thoughtfully. I wondered what she was thinking, as all this talk of submission had got me quite aroused!

When they had finished their lunch, Conchita and Marianne watered us again, before spending the afternoon driving us around the pretty grounds of the hotel. It was hard work, but manageable and, thankfully, Conchita's use of the whip was sparing. As we trotted or cantered along, I saw the ‘weekend’ ponygirls at various times. Some were being walked or taught to step by their partners, several were down at the showjumping arena, trying out jumping the fences, and a couple were hooked up to sulkies and being introduced to the wonderful world of cart driving. They all looked as though they were having fun and, despite the aches and pains in my chest and muscles from the effort required to pull the weight of a cart and rider up hill and down dale, so was I!

As, late in the afternoon, we finally returned to the stables, I saw Scarlett with her partner, the young man I had rather fancied earlier in the day. He dismounted and went around to her, speaking quietly while he gently fondled her breasts, then kissing her on the forehead and turning to return to the hotel. When we got closer, I could see that the redhead was smiling, breathing heavily, her cheeks red with what looked like more than just exertion. I guessed she had had a good day as well.

Scheherazade and I took the carts back into the stables, where our grooms unharnessed us and led us out to the paddock. When I looked back, I saw that Marianne and Conchita were deep in conversation, then they called over Chloe and asked her something. She looked over at us and then nodded. I wondered what was going on, what plan was being hatched, but then the Frenchwoman and the Mexican walked over.

"Thank you for a very enjoyable and instructive day, Marianne," Conchita said as she looked at me with a broad smile.

"You are more than welcome, ma cherie," she replied, "I'm sure tomorrow will be even more enjoyable." The two women turned and walked away, heading back up to the hotel. I was now even more intrigued about the earlier conversation, but knew that I would have to wait to find out what was going on. That thought left me tingling with anticipation, and a little trepidation…