Henrietta looked over her shoulder and spotted, in the distance, Greg hurrying down the steps. She entered the stables and was pleased to discover that Jenny had tethered Bronwyn to the Dais and was in the process of massaging her thighs and calves.

She walked round to face her friend and began stroking her bare shoulder. “Babe, that was a fantastic race. I’m amazed at your level of athleticism. I had no idea you kept yourself so fit.”

“Neiiiiiii.” Her cry sounded as though she was angry with her.

Her firm breasts, sitting on the half cups of the corset/harness, rose and fell, while her raw red, pointy nipples were evidence of the girl’s high arousal level. She was just about to start explaining the Sheik’s decision, when Greg appeared and came alongside her. Ominously, he had picked up a short whip on the way in.

“Have you said anything yet?” he asked in an accusatory manner.

He was still in a bad mood, but she hoped he wouldn’t argue in front of Bron. “Not yet Greg…”

“Open your blouse and show us your reward from Salim.”

“I’ve already shown her…”

“Do it Henri, now! I want to see them.”

If it calmed him, then why not? She removed her jacket and placed it on the side bench; and then returned, while slowly unbuttoning her blouse.

“Take it off!”

“Greg, there’s no need…” He raised his left hand and swatted her around the face. Slap! “Wooooh!” she cried, stumbling to the concrete floor. “What was that for?” she asked in a high, panicky voice.

“Not responding and then questioning my order. Now, get undressed.”

She slowly climbed to her feet and removed her blouse. Her mind was racing. ‘What on earth was Greg up to?’ She stood still, proudly displaying her firm, jutting breasts and her diamond nipple adornments.

He tapped her leather skirt. “And the rest…”

She didn’t want him to strike her again, so started unzipping her skirt. Greg knew that she was bare beneath the skirt, because she had let her thong drop to the floor, while Salim played with her butt cheeks and pussy. The precious item was still in her pocket. She stepped out of the stiff garment and added it to the pile on the bench. Stilettos and black hold-ups were next, leaving her totally naked.

“We can’t see your cunt diamond. Get on your back and lift your legs.”

She looked down. “The floor’s filthy, Gr…” Slap! Down she went again, with a thud, on her side.

She quickly laid back and lifted her knees onto her chest and in the process, reveal her convex lips, bulging between her upper thighs. The diamond pendant was hanging from a small gold ring that had been pierced through the top of her clitoral hood, before it divided and merged with her cute minor lips.

He poked her tummy with the end of the crop. “Knees wider, Henri, so Bron can see all three of your expensive rewards.” She complied with his wishes by pulling her knees sideways. “Better…” He looked around the dais. “Jenny, fetch me four short leather straps and a ball gag.”

“What are you going to do?” Henrietta asked in a frantic tone.

Shaming her in front of Bronwyn was one thing, but binding her and then brutally whipping her, another. His arm was a blur. Whack!

“Ahhhhh,” she cried, when he brutally thrashed the crop right across the meat of her twin globes.

A line of Fire raged, causing her to release her knees and start writhing about on the dirty floor. The powerful Afro/Englishman watched her for a minute and then turned to Bronwyn, who, being a captured audience, had witnessed Henrietta’s subjugation.

He pointed with his crop. “This is what happens when someone I trust steps out of line. Do you understand, Bron?”

Henrietta recovered her composure and returned to her bent position in time to see the startled onlooker nodding her head furiously.

* * *

Bronwyn was horrified to watch Greg, a man who had been so nice to her, brutalizing Henrietta. In fact, he had been more than nice to her, he had rewarded her many times for her hard work, in more ways than one. She didn’t know if Greg had a thing for her, or whether the superficial petting and fondling was his way of saying he fancied her, but no matter, she had a thing for him.

Greg was pivotal in getting George Cartwright his just deserts, but she had always doubted his motives. She thought he was a nice guy, but as Jenny arrived with the leather straps, her opinion was changing.

“Jenny, you bind that side and I’ll do this. You know the procedure, thighs to elbows, wrists to ankles.”

Bronwyn was surprised to see Henri lay meekly, while the pair bound her into a folded position. And, lose her chance to protest, when Greg buckled the ball gag in place. The Welsh girl didn’t know much about the transporting side of the operation, but she knew that they secured the girls in an identical fashion, before placing them in a crate.

Henrietta couldn’t lower her thighs, leaving her bulging sex and upper thighs vulnerable and an easy target. The big man stood up and stared down of the bound and gagged girl.

“Henri, I’m not the only one who thinks you’re getting too big for your boots. After I helped Salim into his wheelchair, I said, ‘I need to knock Henri down a peg, or two’. Do you know what he said to me?” He waited for a response.

Her friend’s eyes were like saucers, as she shook her head slowly.

“He said, ‘You don’t need my permission, Greg, and you know my plans for her. Make sure she’s fit at two o’clock, when I need her help at the races’.” He positioned himself to one side of her body, while his victim visibly shrunk inwardly and shook her head furiously. “Henri, I hope I never need to deliver a punishment like this again, but if you ever disagree with me in front of Salim, you’ll spend three days in a crate instead of three hours!”

He raised his arm. Switt! Switt! Switt! Switt! Switt! Switt! Switt! Switt! He laid 8 savage blows, adding an immaculate set of parallel red lines to the one already glaring out from her pearly white skin. The final three cuts were across the prominent lips of her labia and thighs; and probably the most painful of the vicious blows.

Bronwyn blinked back a tear as she watched the girl she had fallen in love with, writhe, jerk and wail an awful muffled tune, on the filthy floor, just six feet from where she was tethered to the dais. Greg said something to Jenny she didn’t hear and then followed her out of the room.

Moments later, they returned with a wooden crate on a small four-wheel trolley. They parked it beside the distressed figure lifted the top off and then eased out a preformed lump of polyfoam. The front folded down to reveal another section of shaped foam. Greg was strong enough to lift Henri in, on his own, but Jenny helped him to drop her into the preformed body shape cut-out.

“Jenny, I want her to have the whole experience.” Greg said, standing to allow the experienced trainer to connect her to the built-in system.

“The catheter as well?” Jenny asked.

“Yes. If she displeases me again, she needs to know what will happen to her next time.”

Greg hovered, while Jenny inserted tubes in her urethra, anus and through the hole in the gag. A mask was fastened over her face, despite her protests and then the top foam was dropped on top of her. After the front had been lifted and the top clipped into place, Jenny wheeled away the old case, presumably to place it in storage.

Greg approached Bronwyn and stroked her shoulder. He was a dangerous man, but that didn’t detract from his beauty. She was desperate to hear her own fate and was fearful that one day she might end up in a crate.

“Bron, you don’t have to worry about Henri. The crate is 100% safe and an internal computer monitors all her vital signs. I’m angry with her, but not with you.” He paused, as though he was choosing his words carefully. “Salim wants to keep you here, at the club, as a permanent Pony-girl…”

He folded his arms across his chest to let the bad news sink in. She couldn’t hold back the tears and a terrible sense of doom engulfed her thoughts. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life being pursued around the forest by sex crazed club members? On her knees in the mud, while the lads piston fucked her until they were totally spent?

“However, Bron…” He stroked her shoulder tenderly. “I’ve managed to persuade Salim to compromise…”

The Welsh youngster held her breath, while Greg considered the best way to break whatever bad news was coming.

“I wanted you to do one weekend in six, as we agreed with you in the first place. But, Salim wants you transformed into a permanent filly like the others. You’d have to have your cunt laced and your anus converted to a silicone socket, along with many other mods, like having your back teeth removed. I told him what a superb job you were doing at CI and that you were committed to the company and the club…”

She nodded eagerly in agreement. “Neeeeiiii,” she added softly, to get her point across.

“So, he finally caved in and said he’d row back on permanent status if you agreed to commit to every weekend at the club until the end of the season. I’d bring you down Saturday morning and take you home Sunday night.”

Every weekend? My god, she thought, it would mean two days out of seven wearing Pony gear, running around with a bunch of horny lads chasing her. It was a hard pill to swallow, but she was grateful to Greg for saving her from being converted permanently into an animal. She would escape having all the awful things she had witnessed on the imported girls, but have to submit to John’s beatings and sexual assaults.

“Bron, you’re also going to get the diamonds Salim promised you; and I’ll have a word with John to go easy on you. What do you think?”

After she nodded her agreement, his hand dropped to her left breast and began lightly massaging it. “Ahhh,” she moaned softly when he rolled her bullet hard nub.

“Henri, or Jenny will pierce these on your next visit. Jenny is waiting to tether you to a rig so John can take you back to the wild. He’ll fetch you at two o’clock and include you in the races.” He dropped his whip so he could massage both her breasts. “My god, Bron, you have the best pair of tits I’ve ever fondled.”

It felt so good, she began to get excited. “Naeeeee,” she purred.

“Would you like to feel a real man mount you, babe?” he asked gently. “I’ve had a hard on, ever since seeing you strapped to this dais.”

She too was excited and had, during the previous couple of years, fantasized about the size of the muscular, black man’s cock. Having had to suffer half a dozen violent bouts of animalistic sex, she liked the idea of a more natural experience, so nodded her acquiescence. Greg immediately released her tits and without a word slipped round behind her.

He started massaging her taut butt cheeks. “Bron, you have a lovely body…”

Moving his hands to the top of her thighs, he began to massage both sides of her labia with his thumbs. Her tender folds had lost their definition, because of the way her legs were stretched apart; and the stainless-steel cover still gripped her clitoral ridge.

Unable to masturbate and excite her, he released his tackle and used the tip of his cock to tease her fleshy entrance. Then, inch by inch he impaled her with his enormous cock. He stretched her internal walls no more and no less than the Pony-boys had; and once he was slamming into her buttocks, it felt no different from being on her knees in the forest.

The worrying aspect of her situation was that she enjoyed being taken from behind and always experienced powerful orgasms. Each time one of the Pony-boys pinned her, she was left shuddering and thrumming for several minutes afterwards.

Greg was also providing her with a thrilling ride. He gripped her corseted waist and slammed into her, before grunting his way through an explosive ejaculation. She was still vibrating like a tuning fork when he once again appeared in front of her.

He looked relaxed when he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Chin up, Bron. I’m staying to watch the races and then afterwards I‘ll take you home.”

The Welsh youngster watched Greg saunter off nonchalantly, leaving her head full of dark depressing thoughts. She wanted to stay on the dais and avoid another three hours rutting in the wild. The only crumb of comfort was that she was beginning to feel more comfortable in the restrictive harness and tack.

After only one afternoon running around the woods and racing on the track, she had become more fleet of foot. After thinking she would never be able to run in the corset and weird boots, she had rapidly learnt the balance and poise required to be a Pony-girl.

Maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to give the horny bastards a run for their money!