(Bad End) Ponygirl for some rich noble

Christina's vision was hazy as the heat of the sun was getting to her. She had been at it for hours, stuck in the middle of this field, pulling a heavy metal plow. Her muscles ached, as always, as she slowly pulled it forward; she really had to give it her all to get it to move. She had learned a while ago that momentum was the key, that once she started pulling that heavy anchor she really couldn't stop. Her naked body was coated in dirt and sweat, causing her to almost sparkle and glisten. She grunted into her bit gag as she dug her hoof boots into the ground, struggling to build up speed and pull the plow through the cultivated dirt. She had never worked this hard in her life but she knew if she slowed down, it would be the whip for her.

The former warrior had lost track of how long she had been here...weeks? Months? It was hard to keep track when every day was the same. Wake up at the crack of dawn by some cruel, ugly trainer, feed some hay and gruel, and then brought to the field for a long day of work. Most days it was pulling a plow across what seemed like endless farmland, while other days might just be lugging lumber around or other misc tasks; regardless, it was always being used as some sort of beast of burden. The days were long and stressful, **** to be constantly working with little breaks. Relief typically game as the sun was setting, where Christina would be led back to her stall in the stabled, fed and hitched up for bed. If she was really lucky, a trainer would decide to have some fun with her as a "reward" for a hard day's work.

She has to tried to fight her trainers, starting from the moment they escorted her off the auction block, but it was useless. She was far from the first mare they have bought and broken and despite Christina's protests they knew she would break like all the others. The entire process was designed to restrict Christina as much as possible and give her little to no freedom. Before they even left the market she was outfitted with a leather armbinder; outside of when they would clean her, her arms never knew freedom again. Nor would her mouth, as a leather bit gag filled it now. One trainer gruffly stated that "ponies don't need hands or words," as if that was justifications for these horrors.

Their methods had be brutal those first few weeks. Christina had been kept in total bondage, teethered to her cramped stall if she wasn't being trained. For hours they would whip her and hit her with crops, forcing her to march throughout the estate, correcting her posture, or just generally dictating her behavior. It didn't matter how much she fought, anything that wasn't exactly what they were expecting resulted in pain. It took a few weeks but Christina finally learned that life was simpler if she just followed instructions. Not only was it less painful it was almost a relief, she realized. No need to worry about anything besides the tug of the reigns.

Perhaps the most surprising part of her captivity was how her body reacted to the ****. The bondage, the humiliation, the dehumanization all served to arouse her. She didn’t even realize it at first, mistaking her raised heart rate and lack of focus on all the trauma she was subjected to. It was only when one of the trainers reached between her legs and commented on how soaked her pussy was that she realized what was happening. She had never felt so much shame and could not comprehend why her body would react this way. But as the days went on her desires got worse and worse. It caused her thinking to slow down and decreased her resistance, something the trainers took advantage of. They quickly established that she could get relief if she did a good day’s work, which was enough motivation for her to work hard most days. Soon this single-tracked desire was all Christina could think about; there were no tricks or magic with the trainer’s methods, just introducing the former warrior to her true calling.

She was extra motivated today because she was told that if she plowed the entire field she would be released from her chastity belt. The trainers deemed it necessary to locked her in one last week after they caught her trying to hump another filly, as they couldn’t have their ponies acting so disobedient. It had been hell for the simple ponygirl and most nights she cried herself to sleep as she frustratedly grinned her thighs together, like a **** beast. It was an effective lesson as the pony vowed to never do something like that again. She needed to work hard today and prove that she was a good ponyslut.

It was a simple life for the former woman. She never knew why her unseen master needed a farm of ponygirls, nor how his depravity remained so undetected to the outside world. Those sorts of big problems were not important to such a simple creature. All that was important was the tug of the reigns.