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“Bend over!”
Teresa bent over as her bottom was wiped with a chemical wipe. As
always, it stung.
She was taken over to a trap and put between the shafts. She had a
quick look! Yes, it was Rita, come with a friend to see her first day, her
first humiliation!
Teresa’s back was strapped down over a crossbar. This kept her bottom
high and meant that passengers could sit in fascination as her anus and
her vagina moved around, opening and closing, winking provocatively
at them…
The rings in her waist belt were attached to the shafts and her arms
were hitched to the shafts at the elbows and wrists.
A strap fitted to the bridle was pulled back onto her belt to ensure that
her torso was raised, giving a clear view to other drivers of her superb
swinging breasts.
Teresa waited nervously. She had been waiting months for this, she
had endured arduous training for this…
And she felt suddenly trapped. More trapped than before, even. She
was tied in an absurd, degrading position in which two women would
shortly see her open her bowels and bladder once again.
She was being forced to display what she had always hidden so
carefully.
In a dramatic flash she saw her room again. Her wardrobe, her satin
knickers, her tights that always covered them and protected her, her
bathroom, her creams, her make-up, so much cleanliness, all gone, all
reduced to public exhibition of her naked, defenceless, unprotected,
punishable breasts and vagina.
She felt crushed by it all. She would have cried out loud, but her
buttocks were already too exposed… She did not want to be flogged on
them, or whipped on the breasts…So much effort, she thought, so much beauty, all available, she knew,
for a very moderate price.
It cost only five new pounds to hire a pony for six hours. Six new
pounds gave a full eight hours. Most guests paid six and made a day of
it.

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She tossed her head as she had been taught, ringing the little bell on
her nose.
Now she really would be a pony.
She pawed at the ground as if impatient to go.
She felt desolate, degraded as never before.
She was sorry she remembered her past life. She would try to live in
the present. But how?
“Giddy-up!” shouted the driver. Teresa strained and the cart moved
off.
She had to concentrate now…
It was torture for her to try to keep up the trotting rhythm. If her pace
slackened, she was reminded of it by a crack from the whip on her exposed
buttocks.
When she let her pee go, the guests laughed.
“I’ve never seen holes like those in my life!” said Rita. “That must
come from a dissolute life! She must have been a slut before she became
a pony!”
“You could drive a pony and trap up that cunt!” said the other one,
laughing.
The bit pulled cruelly into Teresa’s mouth.
After a few miles Teresa’s legs were wobbling, but there was little she
could do about it.
Her lungs were about to explode.
They gave her just one rest, and one chance to drink.
As she rested between the shafts, her breasts covered in sweat andheaving from the effort, Rita came round to the front and stared at her for
some time.
She went over to a tree, pulled off a branch and stripped the leaves
from it.
She came back in a determined way, swishing the air experimentally
with his whippy twig and
SWIIIIIIIIIIIIISH
THWAAAAAAAAAAAACK
“AAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
The twig bit deep into her breasts, leaving a deep red mark and causing
her to scream.
“That one,” she said, “was for sending me to the storeroom to count
penholders. The next one is for blackmailing Mr Mackintosh and taking
my job!”
SWIIIIIIIIIIIIISH
THWAAAAAAAAAAAACK
“AAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“And the next one is for flopping your big tits in front of my husband
and nearly ruining my marriage!”
SWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH
THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Rita got back into the trap, apparently satisfied with his morning’s
work.
Teresa was in agony. The stripped twig had broken the skin on her
breasts in several places. She squirmed around between the shafts but
could do nothing to ease the pain.
Rita! So Rita had set up the trap for her! She had suspected it, but had
never been sure.
How had it all gone wrong? How had an intelligent woman like her
been outsmarted by a stupid secretary with a brain the size of a pea like
Rita?“Home, pony, home!” A flick on the buttocks.
Teresa pulled the cart round with some relief.
She arrived dripping with sweat. It ran into her welts on her breasts
and made it sting.



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