The heat and tough conditions began to take their toll on me halfway through the second run. Hauling two wagons alongside Zena was difficult enough, but we also had to pull two strapping lads and a tank of liquid fertilizer. The lad at the back had the job of spraying each date palm tree as we passed. The tank was slowly emptying while Zena and I hauled the wagons, between the rows of date palms, but we hardly noticed it.

I learnt from snatches of conversation that the manager of the Country Estate was Ibrahim Khalid. I suspected that he was the man who was responsible for entrapping me and bringing me to Saudi Arabia. I only met him once, in London, at the home of the rich Saudi, Sheik Bashar.

The sheik owned the estate where I was working; and according to Zena, the crest burned on my arms indicated that he owned me. Between them, the two men had hoodwinked my coach, Tom Eastman, into thinking that they were offering me a sponsorship deal. Tom and his assistant Karen were at the London meeting, so I wondered if they were suffering a similar fate to me.

Again, from the lad's conversations, I knew that the fertilizer teams were expected to complete two runs before lunch, then another two after lunch and a final two after a break for dinner. Knowing we were going to get a rest when the tank was empty was as much an inducement to work hard as the fear of the whip. I was no stranger to hunger. The nuns in the convent used it as a punishment for certain offences.

A jerk on the reins brought my attention back to the present. "Jaz, look lively, we'll probably only manage a couple of more rows..." Crack!"

"Uggggh!" I exclaimed when Mohsin cracked the tip of his whip on the upper slope of my right butt cheek.

It was the eighth time that he had stung my unprotected flesh with the light whip, whereas he had only snapped it on Zena's ass four times. She was hardened to the task and obviously knew how to pace herself between drink stops. Mohsin gave us plenty of energy drink, having picked up a plentiful supply when we stopped at the roundhouse after our first run.

We had just turned into a new row when the lad on the back shouted a warning. "We're down to fifteen percent, Mohsin."

The head lad grunted, then flicked the reins again. "Nearly dinner time, girls," he called out. "Keep this pace up."

Once we were among the palm trees, Mohsin lengthened the chains so that we could lean forward about 20 degrees off vertical, to handle the load. Straps over our shoulders, attached to the top of our corset/harness, were linked to the chains we pulled on. With our forearms strapped to the shafts and our fists gripping the upright handles, none of our energy was wasted. Our boots had metal studs which gave us a good footing on the looser earth on the plantation.

We had been jogging between the weird looking trees for about another ten minutes when the fertilizer ran out. Both lads jumped down and detached the tanker from the back of our wagon. Having lightened our load, they both climbed up onto the bench seat.

"Go, girls. The perimeter road isn't far," Mohsin shouted. "Stop at the end of the row."

I was amazed that he knew where we were. The perfectly straight lines of date palms stretched into the distance in all directions, like soldiers waiting to go into battle. Without a driver, I wouldn't have had a clue if I was heading in the right direction. However, we hadn't gone far when the end of the lines became visible. The perimeter road was raised above the level of the plantation making it easy to spot.

When we stopped at the end, I noticed that each line was marked with a numbered post. The lads jumped down. "Girls, we'll help you up the embankment. Go! Put your back into it."

With the lads at the side of the wagon, pushing, the four of us hauled it up onto the road. Zena and I made a huge effort, but it was the lads who made it possible.

Mohsin patted my bruised ass. "Not bad for a raw bitch..."

After the lads had returned to the wagon, Mohsin urged us to hurry. The surface was harder, the load was lighter and I imagined that I could smell food. We were back on the same section of the perimeter road that we ran on some four hours earlier when Mohsin drove us from the North Yard to the main warehouse.

As we trotted along at a fast jog, the large building and its protective fence was a welcome sight. "I think we beat Lafiz back," Mohsin said to the lad as he steered us onto the approach road to the entrance gates.

The male guard on the gates didn't stop us. I found the sight of another Puppy-boy disconcerting. It was almost unbelievable that people could treat another human being in such a manner. Mohsin steered us to the right, and down the side of the main building until we reached a line of three marquees.

Their canvas fronts were rolled up to reveal benches inside. There were two teams of Pony-girls, still tethered to their wagons, using the righthand marquee. The girls had simply been driven up to the bench and they were eating their dinner.

"Pull in to the lefthand tent, girls," Mohsin said.

We walked in slowly to the sheltered interior, where I discovered the bench was at a good height for us - Pony-girls - to rest and eat on. As soon as I was up against the front of the bench and the shafts were resting on it, Mohsin released the chains so that I would be able to lean forward. However, I was hampered by my forearms being attached to the shafts. The head lad put that right by releasing the buckles which meant I could let go of the handles and use my hands to eat.

My upper arms were still attached to the corset, so I had limited movement, but enough to feed myself when the food arrived. The final and most important act was to remove the bit from my mouth which he did after moving around the bench to face me.

"Ahhhhh, thank you," I gasped.

Mohsin frowned at me. "Speak again and I'll add three stripes to the ones Lafiz gave you. I've removed your bit so you can eat, not talk." He pointed at a cane hanging on one of the marquee support poles. "That's there if you disappoint your driver..."

I nodded that I understood. I could still feel sparkling pain from the line of bruising left by the cane. The other lad had released Zena's arms and while standing beside Mohsin, was releasing her bit.

"Ashar will fetch your food..." Mohsin waited for him to finish, then together they left the marquee through an opening in the back.

I copied Zena who was leaning right forward and resting her upper body and head on the padded surface. She also placed her hands down flat beside her shoulders.

Facing Zena, I could see that she was tired. "I hope the food is nourishing," I said to start the conversation.

"It is and there'll be plenty on our plate. I'll warn you now, Jaz, Mohsin is more than likely selling our holes."

"My god, is he allowed to do that?"

"He's head lad, so yes. Master Ibrahim turns a blind eye to the head lad's behaviour when it involves animals."

"Shit, Zena, we're not animals."

"We are when we're wearing Pony tack. It's in their psyche, Jaz. We have very few rights and none of them involve being respected."

"Huh, even when were not in Pony tack they treat us like animals. You said holes. Did you mean hole?"

"The head lad has access to the keys, so he can remove your dildo. Jaz, for a few weeks, your holes will be more valuable than mine."

"Because I'm new?"

"Raw, yes. He'll show you to a few of his mates from the warehouse..."

"Just me?"

"Jaz, you're a raw bitch. Every lad who has worked in the warehouse complex has shafted both of my holes at one time or another."

"It's my first day. Surely he'll wait until I've settled in."

"No, Mohsin knows that another bad week will see him demoted, that'll mean less money and hardly any perks. All the lads are corrupt and we're the ones that suffer. They are all dreadful gamblers. You'll see when we get back to the yard tonight..."

She fell silent because Mohsin entered the marquee through the same opening as he left. Two lads, both wearing thawb followed him in.

"Here she is," he said pointing across the three feet wide bench. "Raw, white and fit. "Check her out." Mohsin placed his hand on the leather cap protecting my head. "Lay still, girl or you'll feel the bite of the cane."

The lads stood side by side, beside me as they studied my rear end. A hand stroked the curve of my left buttock, then gave my right cheek a squeeze. "I've got to say, she's got a firm body and looks good..." He slid his hand down my ass crack and stroked my thrusting labia lips, before delving into my furrow and mashing my clit flesh.

"Ugggh," I grunted when his finger ran over the eyelet that had been punched through my clitoral ridge during the previous 48 hours.

"She's not white, is she?" the second lad commented as soon as he could get his hands on my posterior.

"She's whiter than you!" Mohsin said.

Once again, I had to suffer the same awful inspection which culminated in the lad running his thumb up and down my slick furrow. "This bitch can't wait, Mohsin. What about letting us have early access?" I found it difficult to stand still while he mashed my tender folds.

"No, we're just ahead of the South Yard, so I'm looking for a fast turnaround... and the deal will be for one hole each, after dinner..." He was interrupted by Ashar, entering the marquee, carrying a tray with our food on. "Come on, we'll leave them to eat." Both lads followed Mohsin out, leaving Ashar to give us our food.

The darkhaired young man looked a bit younger than most of the other lads she had met since arriving. He was good looking, fresh-faced and had wide, intelligent eyes. However, like the other lads, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off me.

Both Zena and I stood up straight while Ashar placed the large bowls of food in front of us. The rice, vegetables and meat were covered with a gravy sauce. As I bent forward to pick up the spoon that he had placed on the bench beside the bowl, the lad placed his hand on mine.

"Jaz, Zena will confirm that I get a favour for serving you your food. Isn't that right, Zena?"

She looked fed up. "Yes, Master."

"Wh... what sort of favour?" It was a stupid question.

"I'll take the favour while you eat. Bend forward and take your time eating your lunch..."

Zena rolled her eyes at me, as if to say, 'This is what I've had to put up with for years'.

While the lad climbed over the shaft and chain, I leant forward and started to eat. I felt Ashar lift his thawb and place it on my back. The lad then surprised me when he started to rub the blunt end of his knob up and down my already juicy labia. There was a sharp pain when it nudged the eyelet, but otherwise the masturbating effect created a warm fuzzy feeling in my nether region that spread out from my thrusting sex.

"This is what all you girl's like, isn't it?" he said.

"Ugggh," I grunted with my mouth full of food. It wasn't meant to be interpreted as a 'yes' but the lad did.

"I thought so. You have a spectacular ass..." He ceased collecting lubrication and concentrated on attacking my tight pucker.

It didn't stand a chance when the invader was a slippery fucker and had a twelve stone lad applying the pressure. Before having sex with Tom, my coach, I feared anal sex, thinking that I would deride little pleasure from it. Tom and then Adam proved that theory wrong.

I doubted if I was ever going to get an orgasm while having my rectum shafted, but I discovered that I enjoyed the experience of being utterly dominated by a powerful man. Then there was the bondage aspect of being transformed into a Pony-girl. One of the lads had discovered my sex was slick with my juices. There was no doubt that the experience was driving my libido sky-high.

"Uhhhhhh," I groaned as Ashar dove in until his naked groin was hard up against my peachy butt cheeks.

The food was good, but unfortunately, I had to eat it under the most bizarre circumstances imaginable...