Sandra waited impatiently in her stable for the arrival of her master.

It was a simple rustic stable, made out of roughly trimmed branches with a plain pitched roof. It had straw on the floor and a rail for her reins to be hitched to and hooks for her harness. With the door closed it was perfectly safe and cosy. In short it was all that any fillygirl needed. It had been hers for... how long?

She felt a moment of doubt. Was this really the place she lived in everyday? But then everything about it and her attire said that it was so it must be.

She was naked and in the full harness, which was entirely right and proper for a fillygirl. A full bridle with blinkers was buckled about her head. A metal and rubber bit filled her mouth on which she could chew on for comfort. Reins hung from her cheek rings and were looped across her shoulders. A broad posture collar encircled her neck, keeping her head proudly upright. Broad straps were buckled about her chest and waist, crossing between her breasts and going over her shoulders to take the weight of the saddle seat that was slung over her hips, and which jutted out backwards over her strong bare buttocks. Her arms were pulled backwards with her elbows slightly bent and her wrists were cuffed to rings set in the outside rim of the saddle. This left a gap between them and her waist while also allowing her arms to add stability to the saddle itself. Straps hung down over her outer thighs from the sides of her waist belt. On their ends were small stirrup irons.

The harness straps left her breasts bared but not neglected. They were linked together by a short metal bar with spring clamps on each end which were closed about her nipples. A light chain ran up from the middle of the bar to a ring in the front of her collar, helping to steady the natural jiggle and throw of her breasts when she was moving at speed. Another light chain ran down from a ring set in the front of her waist strap across her lower belly and through the lips of her sex mouth. It passed between her legs and back up the cleft of her buttocks to fasten at the rear of her waist belt again.

She could feel her clitoris pressing against the chain is it divided her labia and felt the usual thrill of confined excitement. But of course, only her master could undo the chain and allow her to give full expression to her feelings. Again, that was only right and proper. Finally, her feet were clad in solid leather and wooden sandals with wedge heels. These naturally had the effect of tilting her body forward in anticipation of the weight of her master on her back, which would bring her back into perfect balance.

How she longed for Master Rowan to be sitting there right now, feeling his weight bearing down upon her and knowing she was serving her proper purpose in life.

Then her ears pricked up as she heard the light step of Rowan's boots from outside. The latch clicked and the door opened, and he stepped inside her stable.

Rowan was dressed in a dark green riding cloak and high boots, and he carried a crop. His hood was thrown back revealing his pale skin and golden hair, pointed elfin ears and deep dark eyes. At the sight of him Sandra felt her chain-cloven pussy mouth pulse with warmth and fluid excitement. He was so handsome. Compared to him she felt clumsy and inadequate. All she had to offer was the raw strength of her body and all the pleasure he could take from it.

She gave a whinny of delight. The bit in her mouth would have made it hard to speak clearly in any case, but she was a mere fillygirl and so was not expected to speak. In fact, she could not remember the last time she had spoken. But then words were quite unnecessary between her and her master.

'Hello girl,' Rowan said, reaching up and stroking her hair affectionately. 'Ready for a canter in the moonlight?'

She tossed her head and neighed eagerly.

Even in his boots Rowan he did not reach her shoulders and his build was slight. Overall, he was no bigger than a human adolescent. But he was still indisputably her master.

Sandra went down on her knees so that Rowan could climb into her saddle. He mounted her from the rear bracing himself on her shoulders and slipping his feet through the gap between her arms and waist and into the stirrups hanging against her thighs and then settling down with his groin pressed into the small of her back and his legs braced in the stirrups on the outside of her thighs. He took up the reins lying loose on her shoulders and gave them a tug.

'Up you get,' he commanded.

With a slight grunt she clambered to her feet again

With Rowan's weight spread across her back and hips evenly by the straps of her harness and saddle she did not feel he was much of a burden. It was just like giving a piggyback ride to a youngster. In any case any strain or exertion she underwent she was proud to endure. She was a strong agile fillygirl and wanted to please her master at any cost.

He tapped his heels against her thighs. 'Giddy up,' he said.

She trotted obediently out of the stable into the woods which felt fresh and mysterious and exciting in the brilliant moonlight. If she had ventured out in the woods alone, of course, she would have felt their brooding mystery and hidden menace. But in the company of her master, she was perfectly content and unafraid. It was his world and by his grace she was able to share it.

And so, she carried him off through the silver lit wood, following faint paths only he knew, passing banks where the wild thyme blew, and where oxlips and nodding violet grew, under canopies of woodbine, sweet musk roses and eglantine. And as she trotted along, she was aware of his every movement. She responded to the slightest touch on the reins or kick with his heels. He did not need to use the crop on her because she responded so swiftly to his every command. But if he had used the crop, she would have accepted it and burst her heart galloping as fast as she was able.

At the same time, she was acutely aware of her naked harnessed body. Every stride made her breasts jiggle and yet they were also confined by the bar between her nipples and the chains linking it to her collar, so that they seemed to heave and pitch around those fixed points. The chain that cut through her pussy cleft was also a sweet torment, grinding against her clitoris which was pulsing with excitement and anticipation. Soon its links were slippery with her juices as they flowed over it. Despite the cool night air sweat began to bead between her captive breasts and in the close fleshy cleft of her buttock cheeks.

And yet she ran on, revelling in her own strength and sureness of foot. Her strong muscular buttocks rolled, her thighs bulged, and her calves pounded. She was every inch the perfect fillygirl, carrying her master through the secret moonlit woodland ways that humans never knew existed.

They came at last to a glade where a babbling brook ran down a cascade of rocks heavy with ferns and rushes to fill a small pool shimmering in the moonlight. Here Rowan brought her to a halt and had her kneel so he could dismount. He stroked and patted her sweating flanks.

'That was well-run, girl,' he told her. 'I think you deserve a drink now...'

He led her over to the cascade and found a small raised pool that had formed in a hollow of the rocks where she could kneel and drink. He took her bit out so she could dip her face in the cool clear water and gulp it down. As she did so he scooped up a handful and rubbed it across her shoulders and flanks. She shivered in delight.

He unclipped her crotch chain and splashed water into her sweaty groin. She gave a little start at this, tossing her head in surprise.

He laughed at her reaction. Then he did it again but this time cupping his hand around the soft swell of her vulva so the water could bathe it. She gave a shudder and closed her eyes in delight and gently pushed her haunches down against the pressure of his hand, gently wiggling her hips so that his fingers rubbed deeper into her.

'You're very frisky tonight,' he observed. 'Do you need a shafting?'

As though he had to ask! Sandra gave a meek whinny and nodded her head, at the same time lowering her shoulders, spreading her knees and pushing her hindquarters out invitingly.

'It seems you do. What about a cropping first?'

Oh yes, oh yes! The pain would be a perfect counterpoint to the ecstasy that followed. And by her display of suffering, she would show how much she loved him. She would have been mortified if she was being punished because she had been a bad girl. But this was different. This was part of the compact between a loyal fillygirl and her rider. It showed that she accepted his power over her at all times.

Rowan took out his crop and stroked it across her pale bare buttocks and the damp pouch of her pussy mouth. Then he drew back his arm and sliced the crop across the moons of her firm twin cheeks.

Sandra yelped about her bit, feeling hot tears pricking at the back of her eyes and savouring the hot sweet stab of pain that seared into her bottom. He gave her three more evenly spaced cuts across her buttocks, making them shiver even as they turned a rosy crimson as the heat burned through them. Then he changed his stance and swung two more crop cuts up between her splayed thighs into the hanging pouch of her sex. He angled the crop so that its head struck her thick outer labia lips square on, compressing their sweet softness and squirting out dribbles of juice from between them like a squeezed orange. Sandra shrieked happily in acute pain, revelling at the loving cruel thing her master had just done to her. The carefully judged aches and bruising it left behind would make her pussy even more responsive when it was used to serve his pleasure.

By the time he had finished her bottom and pussy mouth were glowing red and simmering with her body heat. She was temporarily not in a fit state to carry him in the saddle like a fillygirl should, but she was paradoxically now in an excellent state to be mounted by her master and rider.

He went down behind her and opened his breeches to free his straining shaft. Sandra moaned as he slid it up inside her sore vagina and began to pump into her at a steady pace. She pushed back against his thrusts, delighting in the extra pain it caused as his hips ground against her sore buttocks. The thrusts made her rod-damped breasts begin to sway in time while her clipped nipples throbbed against their confinement. It all made her feel more alive and centred in this perfect moment in the wild woods under the silvery moon.

When Rowan finally spurted his seed inside her, which tingled and soothed her at the same time, she of course also came herself in perfect synchrony, dousing his shaft with her orgasmic exudation. That was only right and proper between a steed and her rider.

For a long time, the two of them remained joined together, enjoying their company and in no hurry to uncouple. But finally, reluctantly Sandra hoped, her master pulled out of her and buttoned up his breeches again, leaving her pussy dribbling freely down her thighs, mingling her happy juices with his cream.

'I've something special to show you,' Rowan said, lifting her to her feet and fastening her crotch chain once more. Her sticky pussy lips closed about its polished links, feeling the comfort of her cleft once again being sealed off from the outside world and under her master's domination.

He led her by the reins away from the tumbling brook and through the trees along narrow paths that she did not recall riding before. Finally, they emerged onto an earthen bank that looked down along a sunken way that wound through the woods, overhung by leafy branches so that only a ragged crack of moonlit sky and stars showed above.

And along the secret road a wonderful fairy company was passing. There were riders on splendidly harnessed mounts and delicate two and four-wheeled carriages with billowy light canopies like puffballs and pumpkins. Some riders had lutes and panpipes that they played softly to accompany their almost silent progress.

Sandra gasped in wonder, knowing without being sure how that this was a fairy ride: a grand procession of these secret woodland folk that few humans ever witnessed.

But what had never been documented before in tales of such things was that all the creatures they rode or who pulled their delicate wagons, were naked human females.

There were girls of all shapes and colours harnessed in different ways. Some carried their riders saddled piggyback fashion as she did Rowan, while others were ridden on all fours more like true horses.

Their hands were encased in padded gloves that extended their length and ended in horseshoe-shaped feet. Bracing straps were bound around their wrists and elbows. Their rear legs were folded so that their backs were level. On these were strapped saddles with high backs and stirrups dangling along the sides of their waists. The riders' guided them with reins clipped to the cheek rings of their bridles. They had posture collars buckled about their necks that were even deeper than Sandra's own with leather tongues extended under their chins to lift their heads up. Breasts of all shapes and sizes dangled beneath them between the straps of their harnesses, jiggling and swaying gently.

Their legs were carried bent at the knees and pulled forward at the hips. They were braced between thighs and calves with heavy straps and some kinds of flexible rods that gave support while limiting the length of their strides. But they walked at a steady pace and seemed to bear their riders easily. As they moved away from her, Sandra saw their naked buttocks cleft by tight crotch straps twinkling in the dappled moonlight.

The ponygirls pulling the carriages were harnessed in a similar way except they did not have saddles strapped to their backs but instead had broad waistbands to which the shafts of the carriages were hooked. They were steered by drivers sitting on the carriages with long reins that hang across the girl's backs, and who had long whips which they flicked across their upturned bare bottoms. There were teams of two, four and six girls depending on the size of the carriage they pulled. The longer reins were run through rings extended out and up from their collars to pass them on to the girls in front.

Then Sandra saw to her surprise that there were some half a dozen female figures trailing along behind the carriages. These were not ponies but women walking upright without saddles or harness on. Their arms were cuffed behind them, and chains linked their collars to the carriages. They had heavy gag straps over their mouths and seemed to be looking about them in fear and wonder, occasionally tugging on their leashes as though in distress.

'We take some girls who venture into the woods too deep for prizes or tributes or to be trained as fillygirls,' Rowan explained. 'These have not yet been broken in.'

Sandra wanted to call out to them to tell them that it would be all right, that this was the life they were born for, but of course she could not make a sound. And then she had a moment of doubt. Had this been how she had been captured? Had she wandered too far in the woods? The strange thing was that she could not recall how she had come into Rowan's possession. All she knew was that this was where she belonged.

It was right that those women and she should be in harness. The fairy folk were here first. They were older, wiser and better than they were. Woman should be their creatures of burden. It was a privilege to serve them.

The fairy company passed on by out of sight and the hidden way was still once more.

Rowan had Sandra kneel so he could climb into her saddle and then she was off again, trotting through the moonlit woods spurred on by kicks from his heels and flicks from his crop, with her captive breasts jiggling merrily and the reassuring feeling of his weight on her back. The sensation of having his manhood inside her still lingered in her wet pussy mouth that was now lathering as her crotch chain rubbed through it. It was a night she never wanted to end...