Jim, I was delighted to find hadn't been infected by the mood of gentleness which seemed to have engulfed everyone else. He informed me cheerfully that he had made regular use of her mouth and gave me a graphic account of how she had refined her technique until she now gave the best blowjobs he had ever had. We were standing beside her as we spoke but she wisely kept her gaze locked on something in the middle distance and did as a good slave should; become invisible when not being used. He went on to tell me that although I hadn't given him permission to beat her, he had nonetheless found a way to impress her lowly status on her. I listened in disbelief and looked at the Brat as he spoke. Despite what he was telling me, she never batted an eyelid.

"Jim, I'm glad to find someone who hasn't fallen under her spell." I said when he'd finished. "But tell me, did she take this 'extra' willingly?"

"Oh yes Sir. Never hesitated."

"Well if I wasn't running her this morning I'd ask for a demonstration!"

"Oh quite right Sir," he agreed gravely, "you don't want all that interfering with her while she's trotting for you."

I immediately granted him the right to beat her whenever he felt it necessary and we proceeded to try on her harness. It all fitted perfectly and he had made a really skilled job of the stitching. When all the buckles were adjusted her head was firmly encircled by the bridle, the bit fitted snugly into her mouth and the reins clipped neatly onto the rings which joined it to the rest of the bridle at either end of it. Apart from the bridle Jim had also fashioned a lighter collar with straps leading from it, halter-neck style, to two loops of leather which buckled snugly around the bases of her breasts and constricted them enough to make them spectacularly prominent. From the bottom of each loop a thin strap ran down to her crotch and these we fed along the slit of the sex, parting her soft labia so that the leather pressed closely to her even softer inner tissues. The two straps then fastened to the base of a butt plug that I pushed up into her without bothering with a lubricant; she was wide enough now. The plug was held in place by two further thin straps which came off rings at its base and led to her wrist restraints. She stood quite docilely still while we fitted her, opening her legs when told to and only making a tight "Mmmph!" noise round her bit when the butt plug was stuffed fully into her.

And so we were jingling along gaily, for the moment running on grass, but this was only a trial run, while I tested the reins and the bit, pulling her to left and then right, whipping her up to a fast trot and then reining her in. At last I was quite satisfied and guided her back to the shed for the finishing touch to be applied. I wanted her blinkered; completely. She was running in bare feet to make her feel vulnerable and now I was going to blindfold her.

When I dismounted back at the shed it was obvious that the straps and plug had worked perfectly. She had lathered up nicely and was drooling from round her bit. Even when she was standing still I could see little tremors running through her every now and then as the aftershocks of the rasping and rubbing at her sex and the shifting plug continued to tease and excite her. But as soon as she realised what we were doing she twisted and tossed her head desperately, trying to protest from behind her bit, but two stern cracks of the whip across her stomach settled her down. And with her blindfold buckled tightly at the back of her head, I whipped her up for her first proper run in harness.

At first she was so terrified that she would only put one faltering foot out in front of herself at a time, and then use that to feel about with, to see if she was safe. If she was going to trot at all she was going to have to throw herself utterly into my hands. It was just as well that I had prepared her bottom so well. I yanked on her reins hard enough to make her toss her head and then held her still while I delivered three resounding cracks of the whip across her livid buttocks. She shifted and pranced between the shafts but was held by the reins. Then I got down and walked round to stand close beside her. She was shivering with fear and pain, but a quick wipe of my fingers between her legs found the straps soaking in her juices and I whispered in her ear, "Listen you stupid bitch, either you pull for all your miserable worth or I'll flay the skin off your back where you stand! Get it!?" She managed a nod and I climbed back into my seat. All she needed now I reckoned was a little taste of just how serious I was so once again I held back with the reins and cracked five across her shoulders, before finally letting her move off. And she did; I had broken her.

She was lost in utter darkness; naked, bare footed, constantly excited and constantly at the mercy of the whip, being driven wherever I wanted. Into obstacles, across gravel, she had no idea where I was taking her, but my whip drove her from behind into overcoming her fear. She had no choice but to throw herself forward and trust me.

It was truly thrilling to steer so beautiful and blind a pony, to enjoy the absolute control and the total submission.

Eventually I steered her off the turf and onto the tarmac of the drive. She panicked a little when she first felt the ground change under her, but again a tap with the whip quietened her. Here and there on the tarmac small stones lay scattered and occasionally one would bite into the sole of her foot, she would flinch and stumble, but always it took just a quick lash and she was back pulling strongly. I had a definite destination in mind and steered her along the beech avenue, where the sun struck through the great trees in golden bars. I leaned back and enjoyed the scene, made all the sweeter by the knowledge that the Brat was locked in her own personal darkness until I chose to release her.

After a hundred yards or so I pulled her to the right and we were back on grass, heading along a track which runs between rhododendron bushes and which eventually comes to a charming little arbour. And it was here that I intended to continue the morning's work.

When we reached the clearing with its stone bench and sundial, I reined her in. She was sweating a little by now and relaxed visibly when I unclipped her wrists and led her by her reins over to stand in front of the bench, on which I then sat. I watched her fidget with her bit and flex her shoulders now they were free of the weight of the shafts, quite like a real pony. As I always did I took the opportunity to run my eyes over her body, but told myself sternly that I had business with it, before I took pleasure with it.