I stared at the bed - or rather, what was on the bed - with that strange buzzing in my ears you sometimes get when you're under pressure.

"That… that's what I wore… at the stables…" I finally managed to murmur, as I struggled to breathe.

"Yes," Conchita said matter-of-factly from behind me, "I knew you enjoyed wearing it, I enjoyed seeing you wear it, so I bought it. Well? Are you going to put it on?"

It was all there - the boots, the gloves, the harness, the tail, the bit and bridle - and I had enjoyed wearing it. But this was different. Before, it was an adventure, a voyage of discovery and, to some extent, I felt like I had been tricked into wearing it. Now, I was expected to make a positive decision, to actively take part in my restraint, to confirm my submission.

It seemed like an extra step along a path I was only vaguely aware of following. Was it a step too far?

"Don't overthink it, Sarah," Conchita said calmly, "think about what you feel, what you want, and just do it!" I came to a conclusion and, before I could change my mind, I reached out and picked up the hoof-boots, turning and sitting on the bed to pull them on.

Neither of us spoke as she strapped me into the leather and metal. I didn't know why Conchita was doing this but, as the items went on, as the tail was inserted and, finally, as the bit stretched my mouth, the ‘why’ and the ‘what for’ became unimportant. I was no longer thinking as Sarah, I was Bright Eyes once more, and I had no use for reasoning or decisions, those were now somebody else's responsibility. All I had to do was obey.

"Good pony," Conchita said soothingly, taking the ring of my bridle in her hand, "good pony, Bright Eyes." As she led me to the bedroom door and out into the hall, my horseshoe-clad boots clattered on the tiled floor.

I heard the clip-clop of hooves behind me and, turning around, I was delighted to see Scheherazade, in all her magnificence, being led by Marianne. We were reunited! I was no longer nervous or worried about what would happen next because, whatever it was, I would be facing it with my ponygirl partner!

I wanted to tell her how wonderful it was to see her like this. I knew that the collar wouldn't prevent me and, while there might be punishment coming my way, I could take it. But, as I opened my mouth in excitement, I remembered the golden rule - ponies don't talk! - and knew it would be wrong to speak. Instead, I let out a joyful whinny and, to my delight, she responded in like manner.

We were led down the corridor to a side door and out into the hot, bright afternoon. Before us was a two-pony trap, similar to the one we had pulled before, but this one had four wheels and a canopy over the drivers’ seat - it made me immediately think of the Surrey with a fringe on top out of Oklahoma, a musical we had performed at school.

"That's a neat piece of kit," Marianne said appreciatively, "they have these things here?"

"You'd be surprised," Conchita replied, "you can get anything in Mexico City!"

We were harnessed to the shaft which, unlike the one at the stables, ended in a padded T-bar, to which we were strapped so that we pushed the carriage forward with our hips rather than pulling it along. The reins were fitted and we walked forward under the direction of the driver - I had no idea whether it was Marianne or Conchita, but then there was no reason why I should know, or that it should make any difference. As ponies, we just responded to the bit and the whip.

We proceeded at a walk, staying close to the villa, until I could hear the sounds of conversation, meaning we were approaching the terrace where the party guests were assembled, mingling and chatting. We were brought to a halt just before we reached the corner of the building, and Conchita jumped down and disappeared around the corner.

A couple of minutes later, she returned leading Jorge with her hand over his eyes. She brought him to a standstill in front of Scheherazade and me and, for some reason, I wasn't nervous or embarrassed that he was about to see us naked. In fact, he was about to see us at our best, our most incredible!

"Happy birthday, Papa," Conchita said, removing her hand. The look on the guy’s face was a picture! I don't think he knew where to look, but not out of embarrassment, he was just spoilt for choice! Her pussy or hers? Big white boobs, or big black breasts with nipple rings? Decisions, decisions!

"I thought you could entertain your guests by giving them rides around the gardens," his daughter prompted, waiting for him to regain his composure.

"What? Oh, yes…" he responded, finally managing to drag his eyes up to our faces, "Chi-Chi, what have you done to your friends?!"

"Oh, this?" Conchita said casually, "Marianne and I wanted to show you our appreciation for your hospitality, and I thought you would enjoy this."

"Most certainly I do," he grinned, "it combines my two major passions - ponies and naked young women! But what about Sarah and Tanya? What do they think?"

"Don't you worry about that, Sir," Marianne interjected, "Sarah and Tanya have become, for now, Bright Eyes and Scheherazade, the pair of fine carriage ponies you see before you. They obey whoever holds the reins. Please, come and take control. I'm sure you’d like to show your guests your birthday present!" Conchita and her father walked past us, and I felt the carriage move as they both climbed on board.

"Walk on! Step! Step!" Jorge’s voice rang out, and the reins slapped against my back. Scheherazade and I high-stepped out together, coping with the extra weight easily, and almost immediately being turned to our right as we cleared the end of the villa. The conversation quickly died, and I saw a group of about twenty or thirty people, men in smart casual wear and women in cocktail dresses or evening gowns, staring open-mouthed as we approached and were drawn to a halt.

Suddenly, they burst into applause and laughter, before crowding around us, talking and then stroking, squeezing, pinching, as if checking to see if we were real. I felt a hand on my pussy lips, spread by the harness strap, and almost came right there!

"Friends, friends," Jorge called out over the general chatter, "give these delightful young ponies room to breathe, please!" The crowd stepped back a little, but kept their attention very much on us.

"These two have been given to me as a present by my daughter and her very generous friend," Jorge went on, "if you will excuse me for a few minutes, I would like to take them for a ride around the gardens.”

“Don't worry, everybody," Conchita added, "when we return, you will all be able to have a go yourselves." There was a murmur of approval and excitement at this announcement, and the crowd ensured that their glasses were charged, standing back to watch the show.

We started out across the lawn at a walk, then Jorge encouraged Scheherazade and me into a trot, again eliciting a round of applause from the guests, whom we were rapidly leaving behind.

"These are magnificent fillies!" I heard Jorge saying behind me, "I never knew carriage driving could be such fun. And there’s such a wonderful view from here!"

The grounds of the villa were large, though obviously not as extensive as those at the hotel. There was really only one short stretch during which we could be whipped up to a gallop, and the rest of the circuit was done at trotting pace or at a canter. It seemed that Conchita's father was an experienced horseman, because he had no difficulty in controlling us, steering us expertly through the patch of trees at the front of the property at speed, but never putting us or the carriage in any danger.

When we returned to the terrace, a line of guests quickly formed, eager to try out the novel form of transport on offer. Two at a time and, occasionally three at a time, Scheherazade and I took the guests on a sightseeing tour of the gardens although, from the comments I heard from the drivers’ seat, the only sights being seen were our arses as we jiggled along!

This went on all afternoon and late into the evening, leaving the two of us exhausted and rather sore as a result of some over-enthusiastic use of the whip by a few of the more inebriated guests.

Canapés and finger food were being provided to the guests, and I realised how hungry I was when my tummy rumbled loudly. I wondered if we would be allowed to join the others, although I didn't hold out much hope - nothing I had experienced so far as a ponygirl led me to believe that anything but the most belittling treatment could be expected.

And so it proved. Conchita came over to me with a hessian bag and, to my surprise, not only brought it up to my face but, after removing my bit, fastened it to the bridle so that all but my eyes were covered by it. I realised that there was food in the bag, and it smelled like muesli, a mix of oats and dried fruit.

It suddenly dawned on me that this was a nosebag! I couldn't believe that they had come up with this, something even more humiliating and dehumanising than the trough of discarded food at the stables. Still, I was so famished that I gobbled as much of the dry and rather tasteless fodder as I could, even tossing my head back to throw it into my open mouth. I saw people pointing and laughing at my antics, but I didn’t care – I needed sustenance!

After ‘dinner’, there was water and then more driving, more circuits of the property, more hard work.

"I think you two have had enough," Conchita said eventually, to my great relief, "come on, let's get you out of this stuff and into your party frocks." She was just about to mount the carriage when her father put his hand on her arm to stop her.

"What are you doing, Chi-Chi?" he asked with a frown, "I thought these ponies were my birthday present. I have use for them tonight, and tomorrow - and into the future!" I was rather shocked that he seemed to think that we were his to keep!

"I'm sorry, Papa," Conchita replied, "I didn't make it clear, this was for one night only."

"One night?" Jorge exclaimed as if affronted, "I don't think so! I like my ponygirls, and I intend to keep them - permanently! After all, I am a Drug Lord!" I was terrified by the dark and evil look on his face and I saw, behind him, the look of alarm on Marianne's face. Beside me, Scheherazade seemed to be prancing nervously. Oh my God, I thought, he intends to kidnap us and keep us as ponygirls forever, suffering his sadistic cruelty and satisfying his sexual demands! I was surprised to find that this didn't scare me as much as it should.

"No, you aren't, Papa," Conchita responded in a patient voice, "you’re the CEO of a major pharmaceutical company. It's not the same thing, and you don't abduct young women into slavery."

"I could make an exception for these beautiful young things!" he said, before his face split in a broad grin and he burst out laughing. I realised that it was a joke, and I had been completely suckered in. Marianne was now smiling, clearly relieved, while Conchita was shaking her head at him disapprovingly.

"You're terrible, Papa!" she exclaimed, wagging her finger at him in mock-disapproval.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, girls," Jorge smiled, "just my little joke. I do have a request of you, though. The mayor has organised a polo match tomorrow in my honour. I was thinking how delicious it would be to turn up to the match pulled by my very own ponies! Would you be prepared to do that for me?"

"I think that could be arranged," Conchita said, jumping in before I even had time to think about a response, let alone how I would convey it. She looked to Marianne for confirmation, and she was smiling as she nodded her head. It looked as though it was decided, without reference to me or Scheherazade - which, I suppose, was exactly how it should be!

"In that case," Conchita continued, "there's no point in getting the ponies out of their tack now, we can bed them down in the barn until tomorrow." Jorge’s eyes widened at this, but he said nothing as we were turned and driven away.

"I'm sorry it isn’t a proper stables," Conchita said as we pulled the carriage into the barn. For a moment, I thought she was talking to me, but then I realised the remark was directed at Marianne, which made much more sense - it wasn't as though I had any say or choice in the matter.

"This will be fine," Marianne replied as they dismounted, "though we don't want them wandering all over the barn in the night – they might hurt themselves or break something. We need to find a way to confine them." The conversation seemed a little surreal, but I just stood and waited as I heard them moving stuff around out of my view.

It seemed to take a while but, eventually, I was released from the harness by Marianne, who took both me and Scheherazade by the bridle ring and led us to the far corner of the barn. They had rearranged the hay bales there to make a small enclosure, and we were taken inside. Conchita appeared a few moments later carrying a bucket of water and toothbrushes. She put the bucket down in one corner and, having passed Tanya's toothbrush to Marianne, removed my bit and cleaned my teeth. Then they left us there, pushing a stack of bales into place to close us in for the night. The lights were turned off and I heard the barn door being closed and locked.

It was almost pitch black in the barn, and I peered through the darkness to try and see my pony companion, but I needn’t have worried, she found me. She grabbed me in a clinch with her pony hoof hands and forced herself upon me, her lips pressing against mine as her tongue forced its way into my mouth. I say ‘forced’, but there wasn't much resistance or, indeed, any. Pretty soon, we were writhing around together on the straw-covered floor, kissing, licking and sucking each other for all we were worth. And it wasn't long before we had oriented ourselves so that we could each apply our tongue to the other’s hot and needy little clit.

It was a steamy night in the fetid darkness of our straw-walled stall. We both fell asleep eventually, but I couldn't say when, or how many orgasms I'd had by then. At some point in the small hours, I woke with a very dry throat and mouth, and crawled around the small space until I found the bucket of water, and I drank long and noisily, given that I was having to slurp and lap it up. When I had taken my fill, I crawled back to the warm body of Scheherazade, snoring gently, and cuddled up to her before dozing off into a contented sleep.

The next morning, Marianne and Conchita took us through a rather curtailed routine, consisting of teeth-cleaning, a rub-down with a wet cloth, drying off, and being slathered in suncream. I had rather a full bladder and, in full pony mode, I just stood there with my legs spread and let it go, not feeling embarrassed or worrying about the mess I was making as it splashed down my thighs and onto the floor - that would be somebody else's problem!

We were hitched up to the carriage again and driven up to the villa, where we were the centre of attention for those members of staff who hadn't seen us the night before, and they came over to examine the strange phenomenon of these two seemingly normal girls pulling a cart while naked. As they stared at us, I found myself flushing with embarrassment, but secretly I was enjoying it. I wondered whether that was because I was just an exhibitionist, or it was the reinforcement of the ‘otherness’ I felt. Whatever it was, it had a real physical impact, sending my arousal level soaring.

Maria, the maid, gave us breakfast in the nosebags we had used the night before, and it was the same boring mix of grains and dried fruit, but it was well received by us hungry ponies.

Eventually, Jorge came out with Conchita and Marianne, and all three mounted the carriage. With a flick of the reins and a click-click of the tongue, we started off down the drive. The gate to the property was open and we were driven out onto the road. We were now out in public, which filled me with fear, excitement, and that strange feeling in my lower belly which meant that my arousal had reached a new peek.

We went along at a gentle trot, our boots clip-clopping on the paved surface. We passed other properties, where the residents came out to stare at this unique sight and, if they didn't realise we were going by, Jorge would call out to them to make sure they looked! Cars going the other way down the road slowed to a stop as they watched us, and we started to get passers-by running alongside to keep up, calling out and whistling to us. No cars passed us, but I got the distinct impression that this was because they were following on behind in a slow-moving procession, enjoying the view!

We were turned off the main road, and Jorge brought us to a steady canter until our chasing audience finally gave up. Eventually, we were slowed to a walk and turned into an entrance, which led up to an imposing property. We were steered around the building to the rear, where we were suddenly faced by the polo field.

We were brought to a halt in front of a small spectator stand, which was completely full, and the crowd all stood up and burst into spontaneous applause as they watched us. A small, officious looking man came down from the seating and walked towards us.

"Alvares, you old dog!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms and enveloping Jorge in a bear hug when they met, "I don't believe it! Even when I have the best polo ponies in the district, you manage to upstage me!"

"I'm sorry, mayor," Jorge said, not looking sorry at all, "my daughter gave them to me, and I couldn't resist showing them off. This is Bright Eyes, and this is Scheherazade."

"Very fine specimens!" the mayor beamed and, to my astonishment, grabbed my breast, giving it a firm squeeze and tweaking the nipple! He stared into my eyes, judging my reaction, then moved on to Scheherazade, presumably giving her the same treatment.

"Will they be taking part in the game?" he asked, clearly amused by his own remark.

"I don't think so," Jorge replied, "they're not trained for polo."

"I can think of a few games I'd like to play with them!" the mayor said, in a rather creepy way.

"We need to get them into the shade and water them," Conchita's father said, steering the old goat back towards the stands, "do you mind, Conchita?" I felt the reins flap and, rather gratefully, we moved from in front of the stand towards the end of the pitch.

There was a row of trees, and we were pulled to a halt in their shade. Conchita gave me a drink and a welcome hose-down with icy water, and I'm sure Marianne was doing the same for Scheherazade. Just then, the teams came out onto the pitch, a group of rather dishy-looking men each leading his pony. They all wandered past us, checking us out and, from the leering looks they gave us, I think some of them thought we might be the prize for winning the game!

I have no idea about polo, and no one was going to explain it to me. It just seemed to be a lot of men charging around on their ponies, swinging a stick and, very occasionally, a ball moved about on the grass. Then it all stopped, the men took the ponies away, and the crowd came out to wander around the pitch, stomping down divots. Quite a lot of them wandered over to us as well, wanting to get a closer look. Luckily, Conchita and Marianne were standing guard beside us, making sure nobody got too close. Then the mayhem started all over again.

The whole thing seemed to go on for hours, and I had no idea who was winning, or whether it was all one long game or several. I tuned out and, in the sultry afternoon heat, descended into a kind of standing doze, only disturbed when Conchita gave me more water.

At last, it came to an end. The players disappeared, the crowd dispersed, and Jorge came over to us.

"Thank you, Marianne and Conchita," he smiled, "for allowing your ponies to come out today. They have made the mayor extremely jealous, which is a definite success in my book! I think we should take them home now, and give them a suitable reward." The carriage was once more fully weighed down with passengers, and we were whipped into action.

The journey back to the villa was much the same as on the way there - we received plenty of attention and admiring remarks, and we jammed up the small country roads pretty badly as well. When we arrived, we dropped Jorge off at the front door, then were taken around to the side. It was a sweet relief when we were unharnessed and taken into the cool building, Conchita leading me into her room, where she helped me out of my harness, bridal and boots.

"Before you take a shower," Conchita said to me, "we need to talk."

"Really? Can't it wait?" I whined, "I really, really need that shower!"

"It won't take long," she replied firmly, "but it is important." Something in her tone made me stop and pay attention.

"The thing is, Sarah… What I mean to say is…" she started and then stopped. Suddenly, she looked nervous, indecisive. She looked down at her hands, and then dragged her eyes back up to look at me. She let out a heavy sigh and then took a deep breath. Now she was scarily intense.

"Sarah Johnson, I want to fuck you so badly!"

WTF? Where did that come from? Was she serious? I opened my mouth to make some kind of response, perhaps a flippant remark, but nothing would come. Unable to muster a coherent thought, I closed my mouth again.

"I want you, I’ve wanted you for years," she hurried on, "ever since we got together at school, you've been the brightest, cleverest, prettiest, funniest, most fun person I’ve known. I realised quite early on that I was gay, because of the feelings I had for you."

"Why…" I tried to process what she had just told me, "why did you never tell me?"

"I was afraid," she said, biting her lip, "I was afraid that you would reject me, either because I was a girl, or because I was me. It wasn't until I saw you at the stables, and heard about what you got up to with Tanya, that I thought there might be a chance. And then, everything got even more fucking complicated."

"What you mean, ‘more complicated’?" I asked in confusion, "how could things get more complicated?"

"I had always wanted you as my girlfriend, my lover," she said simply, "and I do mean love - it's always been about more than just sex. But then, when I saw what you were doing at the stables, when I got to drive you as my pony, I knew that I wanted more. I spent hours in the hotel talking to Marianne about her relationship with Tanya…" She stopped speaking, just looking at me for some reaction. The silence stretched out uncomfortably.

"I don't understand, Chi," I murmured, "what do you want me – us - to be?"

"Above all, I want us to stay best friends," she said, holding my hand tenderly, "but my deepest desire is that you become my girlfriend, and my lover. And then it gets complicated!

"I want you to be my ponygirl - not ‘a’ ponygirl, but mine, Sarah - to be trained to my whip and used as and when I decide. I want you to be my pet, to be pampered and indulged in whatever way I want, and punished if you're bad. I want you to be my fuck bunny, my dressing-up doll, my bondage toy. Sometimes, I want you to simply do what I say, no matter how weird or unfair I may be behaving.

“I want to be your Domme, the one you call ‘Mistress’ and obey without question. I want to be the one who cares for you and looks after you. The one you trust enough to give all control and submit to unconditionally.

"I want it all, Sarah. I know it's ridiculous and unfair of me to ask this of you, and to throw it all at you in one go, but that's who I am - impetuous and demanding and, I think, in love with you. Like I said at the start, I want you in all the worst ways there are." She stopped and drew breath, calming herself before continuing.

"Well, you have it all now," she said, seeming relieved that it was finally out in the open. "I daresay you're shocked, stunned, horrified and deeply offended. If you can still bear to talk to me, please put me out of my misery one way or another. "

I recognised the irony of the situation. She wanted to order me to do anything, and have me obey without question. Yet she had to ask me whether I was willing to go along with that. I knew it was the same as the whole ponygirl experience – no-one, neither her nor the trainers, could force me to do it if I didn't want to. I had to submit myself to that treatment, and now Conchita was asking me to submit to her, albeit on a more permanent basis.

I closed my eyes to avoid her piercing stare. I clenched my hands into fists and fought to stop myself retching, as my heart thumped in my chest and blood pounded at my temples. Gradually, I managed to get control of myself, and tried to form the words I wanted to utter.

"What can I say?" I replied, my voice cracking, "I also learned a lot in the last few weeks. I loved being a ponygirl. I love it when you dress me up, and when you order me about. I realised at the stables just how submissive I am, and that I want - maybe even need - a Mistress. The thought that it might be my best friend is almost too much to hope for. So my response, Conchita, is…

“Yes, Mistress, yes! I submit! Now, please, fuck me any way you want!"

The End