Brenda's New Career

Cornelius McGillicuddy III proudly rode out to the veranda on Raven. "Whoa," he commanded, and she obediently stopped and stood passively while her master greeted his guests.

Ronald and Virginia wanted a closer look at their friend's new chattel, and they walked around her and touched her where they wished. "Nice mane," Virginia remarked as she stroked the long, glossy tresses, which had been shampooed and treated with conditioner earlier that day, in order to show off his latest acquisition for of his stable.

Her husband was more earthy, and he walked around to the other side of the ponygirl, while her master remained in his saddle. Ronald also stroked and admired her hair, but then he reached under Raven's nude body, to fondle a breast and tweak her nipple between his fingers. "Nice tits," he remarked, and continued stroking her lush body, while his wife silently glared at him.

His hands caressed her side and buttocks and the insides of her thighs. He even ran his impudent fingers along the pussy lips of the ponygirl. Although she remained docile, Raven was seething that a man would take such liberties with her. She expected her master to do something or say something, and he might have admonished his friend, but Virginia caught his attention.

"She looks really great, Corny. Beautiful and strong and young. Can I take her for a ride?"

Glad of a chance to show off his new prize and unsure about what to do about Ronald Graf, McGillicuddy dismounted. "Don't try to go too fast," he cautioned his guest. "She's still undergoing her training, and doesn't have full control of her front legs yet."

Virginia mounted the ponygirl, who was obedient but unsure. She wanted to please her master, but hadn't liked being fondled the way the other man had done to her, and was not at all happy about carrying a stranger. The new rider secured her feet in the stirrups, leaned back and delivered a stinging slap to Raven's shapely ass, and ordered her mount forward. Still obedient, the ponygirl started forward, going down the incline again. She still had some difficulties, because she was not yet fully accustomed to walking on her knees and her fists, especially going down a slope, and she moved slowly.

Her rider wanted more speed. "Faster!" the woman demanded, punctuating that command by pulling her quirt from the waistband of her jodhpurs and slashing Raven across her right thigh.

That was the first time a whip had been used on her since her second day of training, and it was extremely painful. Raven moved faster, dangerously so, on the sloping surface. She reached the level area and Virginia Graf, wanting to turn left and ride beside the chairs that overlooked the parade ground, gave a yank on the left rein, so hard as to wrench the ponygirl's head to that side. Raven followed the command and, when the steed and rider were hidden from the view from the verandah, the latter decided she wanted yet more speed.

"Faster, you lazy bitch," she commanded, and her quirt landed painfully on the ponygirl's left thigh.

Raven moved ahead as fast as she could go, much faster than she had on any of her training rides, but she couldn't maintain that speed with what was still an unfamiliar way of striding. One wrist buckled outward, and she pitched forward, sending her passenger tumbling off her and to the side. Nobody was hurt from the fall itself, but Virginia was outraged that a slave should treat her in such a way.

"You dirty cunt!" she hissed. "I'll teach you to be more careful."

She yanked the quirt from her waist again and slashed the errant ponygirl three times across the back of either of her thighs. She wanted to use the whip on Raven's young and succulent ass but, with her tail in the way, she couldn't get a clear enough swing to slash her as hard as she wanted. The enraged old woman settled, instead, for whipping the ponygirl's legs some more.

When her anger faded, she smiled at the many red welts she had raised on the youthful beauty. The jealousy that had been evoked by her husband's blatant sexual desire for Raven had diminished from her punishing her supposed rival, and she felt her cruel reaction was justified.

"Get on your knees," she commanded the ponygirl. "I want you to take me back to my husband and your owner so they can see what you made me do."

The older woman climbed back onto the frightened ponygirl and started her forward by another slap on her voluptuous ass. Raven moved slowly back to the incline and, when commanded by rough yanks on her reins, up toward the veranda. The pain from her abused thighs and ass throbbed all through her body with every pace of her knees, and she was unable to move fast, but her rider seemed to accept the slower speed and neither said nor did anything.

"How did you enjoy your ride, Dear," her husband asked when his wife and Raven rejoined the men.

"Oh, it was very pleasant. She's very young and strong. She's quite beautiful, too."

Both the men saw the welts on Raven's legs, but neither said anything. Ronald had long ago learned not to criticize his wife and McGillicuddy was reluctant to chide a guest at his home for anything done to a mere ponygirl, even extreme cruelty. Virginia dismounted and stood beside her husband, and Raven was summoned to her master's side, where he stepped partially in front of her, as if protecting his new favorite from any more abuse.

"Say, Mack," Ronald began. "I see you don't have Raven branded yet. Would you be willing to sell her to us? I think she'd make a fine cart ponygirl, and Ginny could ride her too."

The owner had no intention of selling his lovely new possession, and certainly not to someone who had just treated her so cruelly, and was almost certain to do so again, given the chance. He knew he could get a large amount of money, but he was rich enough that he didn't need it. At the same time, he didn't want to turn his friend down flat.

"What do you think, Raven?" he asked the object of the discussion.

With the bit in her mouth, she couldn't say what she really felt about the man and woman who had just made the offer, and she wouldn't have dared it even if she could. However, Raven could give an honest answer without departing at all from her enforced role as a ponygirl.

"Neigh!" she answered as loudly as she could, shaking her head to emphasize her answer.

"Well, there's your answer," McGillicuddy told his friend, smiling to take away any sting there might have been about the rejection.

He knew Raven would not have given an affirmative answer and, if she had not replied at all, he would not have accepted the offer. Not only did he not want to turn her over to be abused further, he saw her potential in all phases of what a ponygirl should be able to do. He wanted to keep her for his own, and reap trophies and blue ribbons from what she would do for him and his stable while out on his parade ground and others around the circuit.

The visitors left a few minutes later, and McGillicuddy held onto Raven's leash. She was already dreading the walk back to her quarters carrying her master, but she was ready to do it. However, he decided it was not necessary.

"I don't think I need to ride this time, Raven."

Instead, her master led her by her leash back to the training room. After she had been manacled to the ceiling he left, but returned a few minutes later with a jar that he opened in front of her.

"I didn't mean for you to be whipped like that, Raven. I won't let it happen to you again. This salve should take most of the sting from those welts." He gently applied some of the salve to all the red stripes that had been raised by Virginia Graf's mean little whip. "I think we'd better skip the training this afternoon too. We'll resume tomorrow morning." He stroked his ponygirl's mane and affectionately patted her shoulder before leaving.

Raven was left on her own in the training room until it was time for her enema and bath that afternoon. The men performing the ablutions on her treated her as usual, getting her to her feet and walking her over to the porcelain basin where they removed all her tack, except for the hoof-gloves. One of them pried her tail out of her ass; the other replaced it with a plastic nozzle attached to a long, thin hose. They sprayed her face and upper body with warm water and used the mild bath soap to lather her up and wash and rinse her there, while waiting for the enema to have its effect.

After her bowels were through moving, they used the hose to flush the fecal matter down the drain, followed by applying the warm water and soap to the rest of her body. As they did every day when they washed the ponygirl, they played with her breasts, and fingered her pussy, and even her ass after getting her clean there. When they started to wash the places where Raven had been whipped, they became surprisingly careful how they touched her. The men were gentler than they had ever been before, even during her first bath, when the welts had been raised by their master's whip.

They carefully and thoroughly washed Raven's buttocks, thighs and all the way down her legs, including her feet, and rinsed her with the warm water from the hose. With the washing done, they toweled her off, patting the painful areas dry. When they were through bathing her, they restored Raven to the way a ponygirl in training was supposed to look. First, they wedged her tail back into her ass, followed by strapping her bridle into place, including inserting the bit snugly between her teeth. With their chore done, the men left, depositing the rest of the tack in its usual place and carrying the damp towels with them.

After a few minutes of being left alone, her master returned. She was surprised at actually being glad to see him, and that feeling increased when he once more applied the salve where it was needed. It had helped alleviate the pain earlier, and Raven could see that the redness was already fading. Even immediately after the second application, she could feel how the medication was doing its job and making most of the residual pain fade away.

"We'll go riding again tomorrow," her master told her, standing beside her and hugging her waist. "Your dinner will be brought in at the usual time, and there will be something special for you. Goodnight." He turned and looked back at her and smiled just before exiting and closing the door.

Raven stepped out of the shallow basin and walked back to lie down in the place she spent most of the time when she was by herself. The longer chain fastened to the ceiling track allowed her to do that, unlike a few days earlier when she had to kneel all the time. That place was near the low table where her food would be left, which made it as good a place as any in the Training Room, which she still called the place, even though no training was going on there anymore. She thought about her situation. It was terrible, but it was not as bad as it had been, except for the whipping today. She considered that to be an anomaly -- a malicious act by a jealous woman.

Her master, and that was how Raven was thinking of him now, was not really as cruel or evil as he had seemed at first. She still wanted to escape what was nothing but enslavement, and she would still watch for her chance but, until then, she would make the best out of the situation and please her master by being the best ponygirl she could be.

Raven also thought about the man and woman who had been there that day, and the way they had tried to buy her. Until hearing it mentioned, she hadn't even thought about that possibility, and she was certainly glad her master had been considerate enough of her to turn down the offer. The man apparently wanted her as a sex object and, assuming he had men working for him as her master did, he would probably want to entertain himself by watching them rape her. His wife would probably want to ride her as a pony some of the time and, at other times, she would take advantage of any excuse to use a whip again and take out her jealous spite.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and a man brought in her food. Although her day had not been as strenuous as most, she was still hungry, but wanted to wait until the man left. Before doing that, he emptied her drinking basin and refilled it with fresh, cool water, which he placed next to the tray of food. With that done, Raven sat still while he removed and set aside her bit, but she knew he would return and replace it as soon as he thought she should have been through eating.

Her master had promised her a treat, and Raven was eager to see what it was. There were actually two treats, chocolates cut into bite size pieces and fruit, also cut up. She bent over the tray, picked up a piece of candy between her lips and leaned her head back to let it drop into her mouth and melt there. It was delicious. She recognized it as Belgian chocolate, one of her favorites, and carefully consumed every piece.

She also had the usual vegetables and mush, and Raven decided to eat that next, and save the fruit for last. It was easily the best food she had eaten since arriving there, and the ponygirl took her time and enjoyed a meal for a change. A few minutes after she finished, the man came to retrieve the tray, and she had no hesitation in opening her mouth to allow the bit to be inserted and attached to her bridle.

That night, Raven slept better than she would have expected, lying on her back with her knees bent to keep the welts from rubbing against the rough carpet. She awoke when her master and two of his men entered, and urinated in the basin while they waited for her. When she finished, she joined them so the men could unchain her front legs from the ceiling and prepare her to give her master his morning ride. The pain had all leached from her legs and hips and ass, and the welts were little more than pink streaks.

It was a good ride that morning and, besides obeying her master's commands, Raven concentrated on keeping herself stable and improving the way a ponygirl had to walk on all fours while carrying a passenger on her back. She increased her speed and was less tired than usual after returning to the training room for her morning feeding. Once again her master praised the progress she was making and fresh fruit was included with her food. After she finished eating, Raven was looking forward to her afternoon session, hoping she would please her master again, and be the best ponygirl she could be.

"You are really doing well, Raven," he told her. Your training is coming along even better than we thought it would, and tomorrow will be a special day for you. And on the day after that, we will start your training at pulling a cart with me on board."

She felt good about that, and about her afternoon training session, and even the usual fondling during the bathing that followed didn't interfere with her relatively good mood. She had pleased her master, and he was going to do something special for her, and start more training. Once again, after her second feeding of the day, Raven slept peacefully, with dreams of being the best ponygirl in the world.

The next morning started almost the same as the previous one did. After Raven was saddled, she proudly carried her master down the hallway toward the veranda, accompanied by two of his men, instead of the usual single escort, either of them holding to a leash that was connected to her collar. When the ponygirl negotiated the doorsill, she smelled the pleasant aroma of charcoal smoke, and saw, less than ten feet away, what appeared to be a drum-shaped charcoal grill with a cooking tool of some kind sticking out from it. The third employee of her master was standing beside it as if cooking while he waited for them to arrive.

"Whoa!" called her master, pulling back on the reins.

Abruptly, he dismounted and backed away from Raven. The two men holding her leashes quickly began shortening up on them, until they had a grip right next to her neck and they were pulling her closer to the grill. The man beside it, whom she thought had been cooking something, hurried over, grabbed her calf and knee and lifted, toppling Raven onto her side, and clung tightly to both her legs, immobilizing the suddenly frightened ponygirl.

She was frightened because something that had been said by Ronald Graf and had been in the back of her mind suddenly surged to the front. He had said something about her not being branded. She hadn't thought about what he meant, but she suddenly knew when one of the men who was gripping her collar wrestled her to the pavement and the other man went to the grill and seized the rod that was protruding from the side. It had not been a cooking tool. They were going to brand her!

Wide-eyed in terror, Raven gaped at the glowing red emblem on the end of the branding iron. It was a block M with a small backward "c" crossing the left leg of the larger letter. "Mc for McGillicuddy," her brain suggested, and she knew that was what it meant. She tried to struggle, but to no more avail than her efforts on her first night in the Training Room. The man with the fearsome iron rod hurried over, not wanting it to cool. He paused for a fraction of a second, making sure the blazing, blistering hot metal was properly positioned, and pressed it firmly against the ponygirl's helpless creamy white buttock.

Excruciating pain, like nothing she had ever experienced or even heard of, seared through her. She tried to scream, but the bit in her mouth kept her mute. Waves and waves of the most incredible agony poured through her body from where the red hot iron was pressed against her. To make the nightmare worse, she could hear the sizzle and smell the stench of burning flesh, and realized the sizzling, burning flesh was her own. Mercifully, from the pain and the shock, the agonized ponygirl passed out just as the smoking hot iron was pulled away from her tortured body with some small scraps of her charred skin hanging from it.

When she woke up, Raven was in the familiar training room, and the lights were on, but turned down low. She was lying on her other side, not the one whose buttock had been branded. Her saddle had been removed, but her bit and bridle were still in place, and her wrists, with the hoof-gloves in place, were cuffed to the chain that hung from the ceiling. Pain throbbed from the site where the red hot iron had seared her skin and flesh but, for some reason, it wasn't as bad as it had been during the actual branding. She twisted her head and tried to look at the site, but it was covered with a thick pad of bandage.

She lay for a few minutes thinking about what had happened to her, and heard the door open and saw her master enter. He approached her cautiously until he saw that she was awake, and spoke to her.

"I know it's very painful, Raven, but I had to do it."

She turned and stared impassively at him through her bridle, but made no sound, and he continued.

"That salve is the same as I used where you were whipped. It'll draw all the pain out, and you won't even notice it after a few days. I didn't really want to brand you but, if I didn't, all the other ponygirl fanciers would want you, and one of them would have stolen you eventually. You're a real prize, you know, so big and young and beautiful, but now nobody will want to steal you from me or even buy you. I never would have sold you anyhow."

Raven considered that for a few seconds. The pain seemed to have faded, even since she had awakened, and what the man said made sense. She still didn't like being where she was or what had been done to her, but she also realized it may have been for the better, if it was true that nobody else would want her. The visitors who had been there had wanted to buy her when they saw she wasn't wearing her master's brand, and she would no longer have to worry about them getting the chance to treat her any worse than they already had. She slowly got to her knees, feeling a shock of pain burst through her from where her seared flesh was still so tender.