Kiras Ponygirl Adventure Ch. 08

It wasn't long before Runt and the other handlers reappeared through the main arena door, kneeling us and clipping reins to lead us back outside. Emma was being led ahead of me. I watched her long blonde ponytails swishing from her head and tail. The enforced high-heel gait of her hoof boots, coupled with the high-knees prance and arms held behind, caused her tail to swish in a more exaggerated fashion. Her brand proudly displayed on her buttock, almost fully healed now. Her head, like mine, was held aloft in a proud stance. I had to admit that that the poise and movement had a certain grace to it, as we had all adapted to the boots and high-step requirements. Did my movement also carry the same form and elegance as hers? A part of me hated myself for even thinking the thought.

I was glad when I saw the heavy door to our usual enclosure hiss open. Straw crunched under our hoof boots as we stepped inside, and I was happy to see Sasha, Brienne and Nadia waiting inside. The moment the handlers released us, Emma and I moved toward each other. Our eyes met immediately. She looked as drained as I felt, freckled face flushed, drool glistening at the corners of her bit, clearly as ashamed from our recent ordeal as I was.

She pressed her shoulder firmly against mine, the skin to skin contact was warm and felt good, despite the tack's restrictions. I leaned in, nuzzling the side of her head as best I could with the bridle and blinkers. A low, muffled moan escaped around her bit. It was soft and tinged with relief. I answered with a similar sound, pressing my forehead briefly to hers... it was an *I'm here. You're not alone* gesture.

The other three clopped over quickly from deeper in the enclosure. Their eyes scanned us with concern. Nadia bumped her shoulder against mine in greeting, her ponytail brushing my arm. Sasha pressed in from the other side, her eyes steady, butt tail swishing once against my leg. Brienne circled around and gave Emma a firm nuzzle along the side of her cheek, grunting softly. It was reassuring, and almost playful. I found it almost fascinating how we'd learned various ways to communicate feelings and thoughts, despite our bridled silence and lack of arms.

We did our best to ignore the goblins leering at us from the gallery as we formed a tight little cluster right there in the straw... five women leaning into one another, shoulders and hips pressed close, tails occasionally flicking against each other's legs. No words were possible, but the communication was constant... soft grunts, gentle head bumps, even the defiant little snorts Brienne gave while pressing her forehead to mine.

I caught Sasha's gaze and held it for a few moments. She gave me one slow blink. It was a *we're still here*.

Maria's absence was still a heavy, silent void in our group. We all felt it. Emma let out a small, pained whimper and pushed harder against my side. I answered with a low grunt of my own, nuzzling her again. *We know. We miss her too. We won't forget.*

Our moment of bonding was rudely interrupted by the loud chime and lights brightening in our enclosure. Milking time. Our reunion had distracted me from the heavy throbbing need, and I was glad to be able to relieve the pressure that had barely been touched by the intimate milking in front of the VIP earlier. But I wasn't glad of the forced audience of gawking goblins that were amassing at the bars to get the best view. We endured the humiliating ordeal as best we could, before satiating our thirsts at the water teats.

We didn't have much time before our handlers came to collect us again. There were five of them, so I knew we were all leaving together at least, but I wondered what trials and tribulations they had lined up as we stepped out into the arena under the midday sun.

The answer came relatively soon as we clopped over towards the flower dressage field. My anxiety calmed quickly. I knew this, it wasn't a new torture, plus I was good at it. As an added bonus, I wouldn't have a stranger riding on my back or squeezing my tits. Shit... was I looking forward to this? No, that was crazy... it was more the control, it was something I could do, that I could influence, that might give me a better chance...

I wasn't first to go this time, so I got a chance to look around me a bit. The three 'red ponies' as I nicknamed them from earlier were with us... plus all of us five. I was happy about that as I watched one of the three, P-762, go first. None of us could see the pattern, but it appeared longer, as she pranced accurately around the field, seemingly not making a single mistake. The clicking applause from the surrounding tiered grandstand was modest but clearly appreciative of a good performance. The other two also completed their runs successfully, and then it was my turn. I remembered the rules. I stood on the centre mark, curtsied to my handler, and saw the pattern displayed between my blinkers. A six-letter pattern, a mix of clockwise and anti-clockwise. I could do this. I mapped it out in my mind, turned to the first circle and waited... "Pek-zhev-zhev-thurn"... I stomped... "Zkorr!"...

I did it... faultlessly... I curtsied at Runt with an almost smug glare, but of course he just chittered excitedly and gave me a treat, which immediately wiped the smug expression off my face as my eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Fuck... that little bastard...

The runs continued and it appeared to be some kind of knockout event. The patterns got longer, harder and if a pony failed, they were out. After a few rounds, there were only four of us left... me, Emma, P-759 and P-760. I felt so bad for Nadia, Sasha and Brienne when I saw them shocked as they took wrong turns. I gave them all affectionate nuzzles as they returned to the waiting area, which they seemed to appreciate.

The runs continued, and I watched as Emma and P-760 both faltered and made mistakes on a 15-letter pattern. The crowd clicked and jeered, some banging claws on railings, clearly animated as they had likely won or lost wagers. I pivoted and looked at the crowd that had grown significantly as the afternoon had worn on. The grandstand was much busier than yesterday morning, and there were only a few gaps in the railings at ground level.

It was down to me and P-759. I deliberately made the effort to give her a supportive nuzzle as her turn was called. I groaned and shifted uncomfortably on my feet as I watched her run. It wasn't just the patterns that were getting harder. My breasts were starting to throb again and the cursed barbell had been insistently rubbing against my clit with every high-knee prance around every circle all afternoon.

I'd been trying to ignore it, but it was just getting worse and worse. The shock of Maria's disappearance had completely taken my mind off my body's burgeoning arousal, but now, stood here just watching, it was starting to drive me mad. I squeezed my legs together, but that just increased the feeling of the shield nuzzled permanently between my lips, both teasing and mocking me in equal measure. The movement also shifted the barbell, sliding the bead on the end of the bar directly over my clit, which just made things worse. I noticed similar shifting and moaning from the others of our group. It clearly wasn't just me. The treats helped, although the effects seemed to fully wear off after fifteen minutes or so. The milking also helped, but then it always seemed to come back even stronger.

I had started to enter what I'd come to call my arousal headspace. It was almost like a trance, but not something I'd describe as a fog or haze. It was actually the opposite. It was like an extreme, singular focus that consumed my entire conscious thought. I could feel every beat of my heart pulsing through my taut breasts and my throbbing clit. It was as if my heartbeat was becoming louder than the chitters and clicks of the goblins echoing around the corner of the arena. My vision just fixated on a piece of wall in the distance as I found myself consumed by it. I tried to twitch my hands, ball my fists... but of course they just hung limp, paralysed by the cuffs. I promised myself I'd do something about it later. I didn't care anymore. I'd have to find a way.

My headspace was disturbed by some loud jeering, and I snapped my head to the field. I saw poor P-759 on her knees, she'd obviously just been shocked. An error. Her handler was furious, barking at her. She likely only had a few letters to go, and looked dejected as she was escorted from the field back towards us.

I had no time to console her as Runt dragged me into the centre. Shit... I had to focus... maybe if I could channel the arousal somehow, use it as an asset rather than a distraction? Twenty letters appeared in front of my eyes. I burned them into my retinas as I had done so many times in the dark with my designation. This was a chance, a big one...

I was halfway through the pattern when the arousal became almost unbearable. The drool was bubbling out of the side of the bit and dripping down my chin. It splashed on to my full, taut breasts, bouncing almost painfully on my chest in their swollen state. The barbell continued to rub my clit insistently with every high lift of my knee.

I don't know how I did it, but instead of letting it distract me, I managed to use it, harnessed it as a power... a kind of energy source that I used to lift my knees higher, breathe deeper, focus harder. If I was going to be horny as fuck, then I was going to fucking use it.

My eyes widened and I just accepted my body entering an almost carnal, animalistic state, while my mind just mapped out the route. A to F, then anticlockwise to D, to C. Your body is fine Kira, use your head, you've fucking got this...

The last circle completed, I followed the path back to the centre where Runt was... was he barking at me? Wait... my mind spent a few milliseconds realising that it had become so fixated on my arousal, the pattern... but then the sounds... they suddenly all came at once... the crowd, Runt, the clicks, the shouted chitters. I completed my curtsy and dropped to my knees, eyes still wide in my fixated state. Runt was jumping, but I was just... so... in the zone. My body was tingling all over and my mind had almost detached from it, fearing the arousal would overpower me if I dared reconnect.

But then Runt popped a treat, no two, past my bit and everything melted away. The pattern, the arousal, the crowd, the cheers. Fuuuuck...

I was held, almost suspended in time, the arousal mingling with the euphoria, my heavy breathing, my heartbeat. Everything came together for a few, private, blissful moments before my senses and connection to world around me returned in a flood of stimuli.

I blinked a few times as I saw Runt patting me enthusiastically on the side of my head, the sounds in my ears returning, echoing chitters and clicks all around. I breathed, deeply, and felt my arousal dimming due to the effect of the double treats. "Zhev-thurn! Zhev-thurn! Vexht!"

I looked at him, beckoning me up to my feet, and tried to ground myself. My heart was still hammering, drool bubbling from the corners of my bit, but I put my right boot out in front, straining my tired thigh... I rose to my feet.

It took me a further couple of minutes to fully come to my senses as Runt led me to the same platform I had stood on just yesterday morning, knees up, arousal dimmed, but breasts now starting to really ache.

I endured another humiliating spectacle of being locked in position, as I was sprayed and rotated in front of the crowd. I tried to blank it all out as the world slowly spun around me. When I came to a stop, facing the grandstand, I noticed the VIP from earlier. He was sat in a small area separated from the general seating, clearly some other perk he was afforded, and I could see his eyes still looking directly over me with that same cold appraising manner. He wasn't animated like many of the others. There was no animated gesticulating or clicking. I could see him just staring at me, with that same appraising look, and perhaps, the slightest hint of a grin? That almost made it worse... more sinister...

We were all led back to our enclosure in the late afternoon sun and released. I made a promise to myself that I'd find the other three 'red ponies' later and have a proper introduction. I owed them that.

As soon as I was able, I looked at my freshly adorned body, and I was surprised to see a different colour. There were now red patterns of flowers and vines snaked across my body. Why red? Was this a reflection of achievement? Or it could have been as simple as a day of the week? The frustration of not knowing simply settled on top of everything else we had endured today. I was almost used to it, which was its own torment in and of itself.

The relief from the constant high-stepping was palpable in our group, as we huddled together and relieved our thirst from the teats. I was very grateful when the milking chime sounded, and I had somehow become less fazed by the swell of onlookers wanting to stare, as the wonderful relief of pressure and small orgasmic pulses washed over me. I could tell the others felt the same as we let out collective moans of relief and pleasure as our milk was extracted from us.

The early evening brought another chance to see the male ponies (stallions?) run their evening race as the crowd clicked and cheered. This did nothing to help my arousal levels which came flooding back as I lustfully stared at their bodies. There was the one from my vivid dream last night... Fuuuuck! I forced myself to avert my gaze and instead just saw a row of desperately horny ponies staring at the only men they'd seen in weeks.

After the race we nuzzled together and worked on our communication, if for no other reason than to provide a distraction from the crowd behind the bars, who seemed to be particularly interested in the red painted pony. I wished I knew why...

Eventually, the visitors thinned, and then Runt and his fellow handlers came to collect us. Another day's performances completed, and the handlers seemed in good spirits. We weren't being zapped, or tugged, or cropped... they were almost... respectful.

The handlers led us straight from the arena into the washroom. The usual untacking, showering and scrubbing followed. My red paint was washed off but the sensation between my legs was maddening. Despite Runt's brusque treatment, the sensations of the brush against my clit had me moaning. I knew I'd have use of my hands again soon, and I was sooo looking forward to finally getting some relief to avoid another night of feverishly aroused dreams. Even if it meant the humiliation of having to achieve it with an audience. I'd gone beyond caring.

We were all waiting for them to release our ankle cuffs so we could move to the sleeping room but I was surprised when I saw the handlers fetching new equipment. They quickly gathered our dried head hair and tied it up tightly into high, secure buns on top of our heads. They then removed our tail plugs. The sudden emptiness was strangely unsettling after so many hours of constant fullness. Runt then stepped forward holding a sleek, wand-like device. He pointed the tip at my collarbone and began to spray a thick, translucent cream over my skin.

He started at my neck and worked downward in smooth, methodical sweeps. The cream was ice-cold at first, but within seconds it warmed... and warmed. Before long, a burning sting spread across my chest, shoulders, arms, breasts, stomach, back, hips, buttocks, thighs, even between my legs... every inch from the neck down. It felt like thousands of tiny needles burrowing into my skin, followed by an intense itching heat that made me want to claw at myself. I gasped sharply, twisting my body whilst by ankle cuffs locked in place, a low whimper escaping my throat.

"Fuck... it burns," I hissed through gritted teeth, now free from the bridle.

Emma beside me let out a choked cry, her freckled skin flushing bright red as she writhed. "It's... it's eating me alive..."

I glanced across the washroom. The more experienced groups who had been here longer stood almost stoically. A few shifted uncomfortably, but none of them made much noise. They were clearly used to this ritual. One of them even caught my eye and gave a small, resigned shrug, as if to say *you get used to it*.

The cream was left on for what felt like an eternity, although it was just a few agonising minutes. The burning intensified, then peaked, then settled into a deep, crawling itch that made my skin feel like it was teeming with insects. I had the desperate urge to scratch my skin, but my hands were still held lifelessly behind me, as tears pricked my eyes.

Finally, the handlers stepped back and returned with hoses. The water blasted the cream away in thick, slimy globs. The relief was immediate and overwhelming. The burning faded to a faint tingling warmth, and when I looked down...

All my body hair was gone.

Completely. From my neck down I was utterly smooth... arms, armpits, legs, even the patch on my mound and between my legs. The skin looked pink and slightly raw, but perfectly hairless. The same had happened to all of us.

The handlers quickly reinserted our tail plugs, eliciting grunts around the room, and then dried us thoroughly with the warm air devices. Our head hair was untied and brushed out, left loose and flowing.

Finally released into the main sleeping enclosure, the five of us gravitated together once more. The straw felt almost welcoming after the day we'd endured.

Emma stared at her own body in shock, running a freed hand over her now-bare thighs. "They... they depilated us."

I touched my own smooth mound and stomach, the sensation strange and alien. "Probably another way to make us look more like their perfect little ponies," I muttered bitterly.

We huddled close, now able to speak freely. "Maria should be here," Sasha said quietly, voice cracking.

"Yeah, bet she would've gone fucking nuts at that cream," Brienne added with a weak laugh.

The five of us stayed close for a while, speaking in low voices about the day's humiliations and Maria's disappearance. Eventually the conversation lulled, and I found my gaze drifting across the large room.

In the far corner, the three women who had been painted vivid crimson on our first day in the arena were sitting together on the straw. They were the ones I'd mentally labelled the "red ponies" that we'd spent much of our day with. All three looked more relaxed than the rest of us... clearly longer-term residents of this place. One was the striking blonde I'd noticed before (P-759), the other two had darker hair and stronger builds.

I touched Emma's arm. "I'm going to talk to them," I whispered. "They've been here longer. They might know things we don't."

Emma nodded. "I'll come with you."

We stood and padded across the straw. The three women looked up as we approached. The blonde gave us a small, tired smile of recognition.

"Hi," I said quietly. "I'm Kira. This is Emma. We're... newer than you three."

The blonde tilted her head. "Heya. You're the one who got the blue paint yesterday, then the red today, right? I'm Cass, P-759." She gestured to the woman on her left, a tall brunette. "This is Tara, P-760. And that's Sarah, P-762."

Tara and Sarah gave us polite nods. Although I inwardly winced when she used their designations along with their names, like it was as an equal part of their identities. We settled onto the straw near them. After a moment, I decided to be direct.

"Today was... a lot," I said. "The inspection exhibit, being milked in front of that VIP while he drank it, the Flower Dressage knockout... I'm still trying to understand why they do all of this. The public display, the painting, the milk stand. You three have been through it before. Any idea what it's really for?"

Cass exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her blonde hair.

"We've been trying to figure that out for weeks," she said. "No one knows for sure, but... we think the Flower Dressage is mostly entertainment and status for them. They bet on us, show us off like prized horses. The better you perform, the more attention you get from the crowd and the handlers."

Tara nodded. "The painting seems to mark the top performers. We reckon it's like advertising quality... makes you more desirable. As for the inspections and the milk stand..." She shrugged. "We think they sell the milk. It's clearly valuable to them. They line up and pay for it like it's some kind of luxury. The inspections probably let important goblins check the stock before deciding whether to buy someone outright."

Sarah spoke more quietly. "Some of us reckon the really good performers get taken for private owners or bigger arenas. Others think the milk production is the main point and they eventually move us on when output drops. But honestly... we're guessing. No one ever comes back to tell us what happens after."

Emma shivered beside me. "So the better we are, the faster we might disappear?"

Cass gave a shrug and a half-smile. "Possibly. It seems like being average just means you stay here longer until they get bored and do a cull. We really don't know."

We fell quiet for a moment, the uncertainty hanging heavy in the air between us. I looked at the three of them... they had a calm, weary look about them and were seemingly more resigned to their fates.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "For sharing what you've seen. We're trying to stick together. Keeping our spirits alive. If you ever want to join us... or talk more... the offer's open."

Cass studied us for a second, then gave a small nod. "We'll keep it in mind. You girls seem nice... thank you."

It wasn't a rejection, but I got the impression they preferred their time alone together, so Emma and I returned to our group a few minutes later, carrying the new, uncertain information to the others. The red ponies' words hadn't given us clear answers, but they had confirmed one thing... we were valuable.

Later that evening, after feeding, but before the signal to sleep, the yearning need between my legs had become unbearable. The day's constant stimulation had left me in an almost fevered state. I couldn't sit still, and I felt like my body was no longer mine. The hormones, the clit piercing, the milking... everything was conspiring to keep me on edge. It was stopping me thinking straight. Every shift of my thighs nudged the barbell and sent a fresh spark through my clit, and the shield only teased the entrance to my most intimate space, now constantly glistening with my growing wetness, making it all worse.

I needed relief. Just once. Just enough to take the edge off.

While the others were quietly talking or trying to rest, I slipped away toward the far back corner of the room, the area least visible from the straw-lined area. It was as secluded as I could get, although privacy was out of the question.

I knelt in the corner, heart hammering. My hands trembled as I reached between my legs. The lack of hair was disturbing, feeling almost alien to me. The silver shield was smooth and unyielding, and the barbell piercing the hood of my clit was exposed. I pressed two fingers against the bead and began to rub in slow, desperate circles.

The sensation felt soooo good. A low, shaky moan escaped my throat. I was already so wet, so sensitive, that within seconds I was panting, hips rocking instinctively. The arousal blossomed into a throbbing, urgent need. I rubbed faster, biting my lip hard, chasing the release that felt so close. My thighs trembled. My breath came in short, desperate gasps. I was right there... right on the edge, muscles tightening, vision blurring...

A sizzling shock burned between my labia, the shield discharging current into my most intimate, sensitive area.

My whole body jerked violently. I cried out, curling forward, hands flying away from myself as the shield delivered another sharp, punitive zap that made my legs spasm.

The orgasm I had been seconds away from shattered instantly. The pleasure evaporated, replaced by an immediate, sizzling burn.

I stayed curled on my side in the corner, gasping, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. The need was still there... and as the pain started to subside it just came back sharper, and more insistent. The denial, whilst excruciating, had only amplified everything.

Soft footsteps approached. I looked up to see Lena crouching beside me, her expression one of sympathy.

"Hey... easy," she whispered, keeping her voice low. "I saw you slip away there. Figured that's what you'd be tryin'."

I couldn't even speak at first. The sting between my legs still pulsed angrily. Lena sat down next to me, close enough that our shoulders touched.

"Everyone tries it at least once," she said softly, almost kindly. "Some of us try it more than once in the beginning. But the shield won't let you finish. Ever. It shocks you right before you can go over. The more you push it, the worse the ache gets afterward. It's like their way of keeping us... primed."

She gave me a small, sympathetic smile. "Trust me. You'll only make yourself crazier. The only thing that takes the edge off is the milkin', and those darn treats... but they don't last long."

I swallowed hard, still breathing unevenly, the frustrated heat still burning low in my belly.

"... How do you stand it?" I whispered.

Lena looked away for a moment, then shrugged. "You don't. If you're performing, use it, channel it. Else, you just... endure. And anyways, ain't no one ever died from being too horny, least as far as I know." She squeezed my shoulder gently, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Girl, come back to the group now. Don't do this to yourself tonight, OK?"

I nodded shakily and let her help me up. The walk back to the others felt humiliating, my thighs slick and my body still desperately aching. I slipped back into our little huddle, cheeks burning, legs still shaky. Emma noticed right away and leaned in close.

"What happened?" she whispered, worried. I kept my eyes down, voice barely audible and thick with humiliation.

"I tried to... take care of it. The arousal. I found a corner and started touching myself. I was so close, right on the edge... and the shield shocked me. Hard. Right between my legs. It stopped me completely."

Emma's eyes widened in genuine shock. "It shocks you?!"

Nadia and Sasha both stared, equally surprised. Brienne muttered a quiet "Fuck..."

"I didn't know it did that," Emma breathed, looking horrified. "We all get the ache, but... Jesus, Kira."

Before any of us could say more, the low chime echoed through the enclosure, followed by the familiar warning buzz deep inside us. Lights-out. The pods were waiting. We stood together in heavy silence and began the short walk toward the rows of coffin-like beds, the shock of my revelation still hanging in the air between us.

We paused together just before the rows of pods, the five of us drawing instinctively into a tight huddle. The low chime was still echoing, but none of us moved yet. Emma spoke first. It was her turn to start the pre-bed prep talk tonight.

"No matter what happens tonight... if any of us disappear like Maria... we find each other again. Somehow. Somewhere."

I squeezed her hand, trying to suppress my tears from my self-inflicted pain. "We promise. No matter where they take us, no matter how long it takes. We look for each other."

Nadia's dark eyes glistened as she nodded. "We're sisters now. That doesn't end just because they separate us."

Sasha and Brienne both murmured their agreement, pressing closer until our foreheads touched.

"Together," I whispered. "Always."

Five hands found each other in the dim light, gripping tight for one last moment before the pods claimed us.

Then, one by one, we turned toward our waiting beds, praying we'd still be together in the morning.

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The next morning, the lid of my bed hissed open and cool air wafted in an almost alien way over my body's freshly depilated skin. I sat up, feeling the still-unfamiliar, heavier weight of my already swelling breasts settling on my chest. I cupped them, feeling their unusual firmness, and then ran a trembling hand down my stomach, over my now-smooth mound, and between my parted thighs. I looked down. Nothing. Not a single hair. Just warm, pink-ish, soft skin that felt like silk under my fingertips. The silver shield between my labia gleamed brighter, more visible now against the hairless folds, along with the clitoral barbell now shining almost proudly, with no hope of remaining unseen against my bare skin. With no hair to cushion or protect it, every touch made the bead on the end of the bar roll, nudge and tease my most sensitive spot. I bit my lip hard and resisted the urge to attempt to alleviate the near-overwhelming arousal that had been one of my many torments of the night.

"Fuck," I whispered, voice still croaky from the night.

Last night, after the nightly maintenance routines had finished, I'd finally drifted into fractured dreams of memories past... raids with Alex and happier pre-Rift memories... but then newer, more disturbing dreams of the powerful stallions thundering past me, their sweat-glistened thighs flexing, thick cocks swinging free... one turning, eyes dark and hungry, gripping my reins and claiming me in the straw while... ugh... focus Kira, keep your focus.

I saw the others emerging too and gave Emma a smile as she stretched her limbs with a soft grunt. I checked and double-checked. We were all still here. I exhaled softly in relief. At least that was something.

Emma joined me, her hand finding mine, squeezing. "She's out there somewhere," she whispered, realising that I was still mourning Maria's loss. "We promised, remember?"

I nodded, pulling her into a brief, naked hug, our smooth skin touching, our heavy breasts pressing together in an awkward and somewhat uncomfortable embrace. Sasha and the others also joined, and we came together in what had become our routine morning huddle, before we walked over to the straw-lined wall to find a comfortable spot to settle.

Nadia broke the communal silence, her hair looking a little ruffled from her sleep, but her eyes flickered with curiosity. "Kira, what happened to you and Emma yesterday morning?" She asked softly, her voice carrying both curiosity but also an edge of suspicion. "After the tacking, they led you off somewhere else. Where did they take you?

Sasha nodded beside her, her eyes narrowing a little. I couldn't blame them for being suspicious. It was a natural reaction to this extreme treatment and captivity. Trust was hard to come by, but at least they were asking, and not bottling it up. Sasha then added, "Yeah, and I saw that extra fancy-looking goblin... he was watching you both during the Flower Dressage. Pointing at you. I saw him chatting with your handlers."

Brienne crossed her arms over her freckled chest, her frizzy red hair bouncing as she spoke with more of a frustrated tone. "It felt wrong, splitting us up like that. If they're picking favourites, we need to know why. What did you do, and what did they do to you?"

Emma glanced at me, her pale cheeks struggling to hide the blush of her embarrassment at her recollection of yesterday's humiliating ordeal. She squeezed my hand behind our backs, likely searching for a small anchor of comfort. I took a breath, managing to keep my composure. "It was... humiliating. Worse than the public milkings... more... personal."

I shifted on my butt in the straw, the brand now almost comfortable to sit on, but my smooth skin sliding unnaturally against itself was still weird to me. "They took us to another enclosure, like ours but it had a raised platform. There was some kind of vendor in the gallery behind the bars. There were containers and screens... and our milk, labelled like some kind of fucking weird-ass Starbucks or something. They were selling cups of our milk to a line of goblins who crowded around, pointing at us while they sipped it, chittering and staring right into our eyes. It was goddamn humiliating, seeing them staring at our bodies as they drank what we'd been forced to produce, like we were nothing more than entertaining milk dispensers for their enjoyment."

Emma shuddered beside me, but then placed her hand on my arm, her voice picking up where mine had begun to falter in increasing rage.

"Then they locked us in position around that platform, and that fancy VIP one was there, the one with the silver-capped tusks. Our ankles were spread wide by the cuffs, collar forcing our chins up. I couldn't move, couldn't hide. He... the VIP... just stared at me like I was a statue on display."

It was then my turn to save Emma from her painful recollection as I saw her bottom lip begin to tremble a little. "Yeah but he didn't just look. He touched us. Prodded our muscles, squeezed our thighs like checking ripeness of a fucking fruit. But the worst... Runt, he latched a milker thing on my nipple... milked me right there in front of him while he watched... then drank it. Straight from the tube, like tasting wine. I felt like... like a product."

I swallowed hard, the tongue barbell clicking against my teeth, heat rising in my cheeks as I continued. "And he didn't stop at the milking. His claws traced... down there... rolled the barbell until I was moaning, hips bucking against nothing. My fucking body betraying me as I whimpered like some horny animal. And the whole time, him and Runt chittering away. It was clinical, but intimate. Like he was evaluating us for... something more."

Nadia's eyes darkened, her hands clenching into fists, her own rage replacing any lingering sense of suspicion, at least of us. "Fuck. That's... disgusting. Worse than the crowds. At least there it's distant. This sounds like some kind of preview or something."

"Exactly," Sasha murmured, voice simmering with shared anger. "So what do you think it means? Why single you two out?"

I leaned back against the wall, mind racing through the fragments we'd pieced together from Lena and the red ponies. "I think it's evaluation. Top performers disappear, right? The ones who score high in the arena, milk well, prance perfectly. Maria fought back too hard... kicked a handler... and she's gone, probably to some punishment or god-knows-what. But us... Emma and I did well in the Flower Dressage. That VIP, he's clearly not just a spectator. There was also something in his eyes. Something more... serious? Maybe a buyer? Private owner, like Lena whispered about. Rich goblin wanting his own 'prized ponies' for... god knows. Racing, milking, breeding?

Emma nodded as she hugged her knees to her chest. "Or maybe shipping us to bigger arenas. Elite ones, where the crowds could be even larger, the bets higher. The way he tasted our milk... like checking quality. And the depilation, forced arousal... it makes us more 'appealing,' and more sensitive for whatever comes next. It's all about our value I think. Maybe the better we perform, the faster they move us up some twisted chain. But would that be better? Private owners might treat us like trophies, less cruel? Or it could just be a different kind of hell... isolated, no group to lean on."

The feeding machine hummed to life before we could linger on our thoughts further, and it wasn't long before the chime sounded for us to line up for the morning re-tacking. As we walked over, Lena came alongside, offering some words of encouragement.

"Probably a big day today. Likely more of those fancy ones sniffin' around. Keep your heads high, girls. Perform well, but don't draw the wrong eyes." Her gaze lingered on me... on my already-throbbing breasts, on my body where the red paint had marked me out as a winner yesterday. "You especially, Kira. That VIP yesterday? Not seen him before... guessing he don't come down for just anyone. There's something about him... just... be careful, yeah?"

My cheeks burned. I remembered his cool fingers weighing my milk-heavy breasts, rolling the clitoral bead until I trembled and whimpered around my bit. The way he'd sipped from the handheld cup, savouring what they'd forced from me. I hated how my body had responded... my arousal blossoming around the shield, fresh pressure building in my breasts even now, as if eager to supply more for their perverted tastes. But there was another edge to him, in the way he assessed me. Yes, he went through the 'usual' motions of the physical inspections, but he kept looking into my eyes, as if he was looking for something else. And when I glared at him at the end, despite everything, I saw something in him, maybe a spark of recognition for what he was looking for?

Our handlers filed in soon after, Runt heading straight for me with his usual energetic scurry and chitters. He knelt me with a sharp "Shrukt!", then fitted all my various tack. I'd learned not to resist. It wasn't worth it. I even leaned into his pats just enough... strategic, I told myself... earning a treat that dissolved in sweet, euphoric waves, drowning the morning stiffness and the overnight arousal for a few, precious seconds.

The morning then followed a familiar routine, with the early hours spent being ogled and milked in our exhibit. I found myself becoming increasingly immune to the stares, the pointing and chittering. My god, was this how zoo animals felt? Just endless successions of beady eyes fixed on you, trying to catch your attention with waves and clicks... but it all just becoming a kind of background noise that you learn to subconsciously filter out?

My first groan of the day was when the large arena door slid open, and I pivoted to see Runt and his fellow handlers entering with saddles. At least the flower dressage was vaguely challenging and stimulating. I was not looking forward to another afternoon of being a fairground ride to a bunch of amateur tourists.

I snorted in a form of protest as I knelt, and felt Runt attaching my saddle, but he seemed neither interested or bothered in my reaction as I glared at him. Instead, he seemed remarkably upbeat given his apparent previous concern when I was handed over to others to ride. My suspicion was aroused.

Runt hopped up into the saddle and I grunted, feeling the extra weight settle between my shoulders. It was still an intensely humiliating experience to be mounted like a dumb animal, just being used as a form of entertaining transport.

We were led out in single file, high-kneed prances enforced by their barks and the prods in our boots, with light tugs on our reins grazing the spiked balls on our tongues. I could feel the barbell again rubbing insistently with every knee lift, my smooth, hairless skin feeling even more sensitive in the crisp outdoor air. I was at the back of the line behind Emma, as we were led towards the grassy area fenced off for the public rides. I saw the queue of goblins waiting impatiently for their turns to ride us. I let out another groan.

But as we approached I saw Emma veering off to the side, Runt then tugging me to follow, toward a small side gate I'd not noticed before, tucked behind the main enclosure. It opened onto a different grassy area... smaller, more secluded, surrounded by high hedges. I could feel the grass was softer here under my boots and the sudden seclusion sent a chill through me. No crowds, no grandstand, and just a handful of goblins waiting, their robes and capped tusks shimmering in the light. My stomach twisted as I recognized one... the VIP from yesterday... his cold, appraising gaze locking onto me immediately.

Runt and Emma's handler halted and then knelt us before them, before swiftly dismounting and then bowing low with deferential chitters. There then followed a rapid stream of further subservient chitters interspersed with repeated "skrix-lurghs" and "zhev-thurns," like they were describing and praising us to superiors. The VIP that I recognised responded with a deeper, more authoritative chitter, patting Runt's shoulder almost dismissively before stepping forward. He was no beginner... his movements were fluid, confident, grasping my reins with a practiced grip that suggested experience. I imagined him with his own stable of ponies back in whatever goblin enclave he hailed from. Would that fate be better than whatever Maria had faced, or if I were to be 'culled' from this place?

Runt hovered nearby, exchanging more chitters and nods, his posture still respectful, but the VIP waved him off, before mounting me with ease. His polished boot stepped on my thigh and then up into the stirrup, his weight seemingly a little heavier than Runt's.

I could hear his unfamiliar breathing behind my head, and felt him running his claws through my jet black ponytail, almost possessively.

He ordered me up to my knees and then barked out "Zkorr!" His voice was sharper and more commanding than Runt's familiar rasp, and the jab of his boots to my hips jolted me forward. There were no hesitant or clumsy tugs this time. He guided me around the open area in a wide, looping walk. As I turned, I saw Emma being mounted by another VIP nearby, her reins handed over with similar deference, but my focus narrowed to the alien voice in my ears... barking "Ghraxt!" for high knees, "Skrith!" to quicken my pace, each order a fresh humiliation as I realised I'd become so familiar with Runt's control. The grass blurred under my prancing boots, the barbell sparking with every step, my body responding as I entered that now-familiar arousal headspace where every sense felt heightened and my mind emptied of all thoughts other than the immediate present, the commands, the arousal... He was testing me, I knew... pushing for speed, obedience, and that perfect, degrading prance... and all I could do was obey, hips swaying, breasts bouncing, while his chitters of approval echoed in my ears.

The commands kept coming, relentless and precise, his deeper voice a constant bark in my ears. We looped the grassy area again and again, his boots jabbing my hips for emphasis, forcing higher knees, faster paces, until my thighs burned like fire and sweat slicked my smoother skin, making it glisten under the sun. The barbell between my legs was a torment with every prance, rolling and pressing against my swollen clit, amplified by the smooth depilation... nothing to dull it, just raw, insistent sparks that built a desperate heat deep in my core. I was dripping, I could feel it coating the shield, my body betraying me as my arousal built and built, hips twitching involuntarily under his commands.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of this private degradation, he barked "Thurnk!" and tugged the reins back gracefully, halting me in the centre of the area, flowed by a "Shrukt!" as I sank to my knees on the soft grass. I felt his weight lifting as he dismounted smoothly, boot clinking out of the stirrup, leaving my back aching and my breaths coming in gasps around the bit I was drooling from. Runt scurried forward immediately, chittering deferentially, taking the reins and then tapping his interface, feeling the cuffs activating and feeling my thighs spread wide by the magnetic cuffs that hummed to life at my ankles, locking me in position. The collar still forced my chin up, exposing my heaving chest, breasts full and tender, nipples already beading with milk from the constant jiggle of the ride.

The VIP circled me once more, his silver-capped tusks catching the light as he inspected his mount... me. His claws trailed over my sweat-slicked flanks, through my hair, then lower, between my thighs. He rolled the barbell deliberately, noting my intense arousal... the way my hips twitched, a muffled whimper escaping around the bit as fresh sparks shot through me. I was on the edge, body thrumming with denied need from the endless walking, every prance having stoked my arousal without release. He chittered something low and appraising to Runt, who responded with eager nods and "zhev-thurns," their exchange a rapid back-and-forth of guttural sounds, Runt gesturing animatedly at me like I was a prized exhibit.

But then he did something I didn't expect. He waved Runt away, as if my handler's presence was somehow an annoyance to him. Runt backed away with a quick bow and I was left in the centre of the grassy space, alone with the VIP. I expected some new kind of horror, but instead he looked into my eyes, deeply, like he had done yesterday. He was looking for something again. I held his eye contact. I was desperate to find something I could control in this hell hole. Anything that gave me any kind of agency, reminding me that I was still... me. If this little green bastard wanted a staring contest, then I'd give him one.

We then simply stared at each other. Neither of us blinking. He was fucking testing me, I knew it. The fact that he had dismissed Runt suggested that this wasn't a 'normal' examination. He was looking for something else. Another quality. It felt like he was staring into my soul, and my refusal to look away was revealing something. My determination. My fire. The flame inside me that refused to die. In that moment, he saw it.

I saw a grin emerge on his face. He placed a clawed hand on my shoulder and then gave me... a nod of... was it recognition? respect? What the fuck was going on?!

He was the first to break the stare, as if he hadn't wanted to win any contest, but rather he had seen what he wanted to see. He issued a curt bark to Runt who came scurrying back over, and then reached into his robe and held something up towards my face. It was a shimmering, elongated crystal that glowed faintly purple in his claw. He held it before my eyes for a moment, letting me see the promise held within, before giving me another nod and popped it past my bit. It dissolved instantly on my tongue, sweeter and more potent than anything before, a rush exploding through me. The euphoria hit hard, but this time it didn't just stop at bliss... it built, amplifying the arousal until it... exploded. A full orgasm crashed over me, waves of release pulsing through me as I groaned in ecstasy despite the muffling effect of the bit. My body tried to collapse, knees buckling, hips grinding against the air in desperate relief, but the cuffs and collar held me rigid, forcing me to endure the ecstasy in perfect, humiliating stillness... exposed and trembling as the aftershocks washed over me. The VIP watched it all with a kind of detached satisfaction, chittering one final approval to Runt before giving me a final look... and was that a wink?... before turning away, leaving me locked there, spent and exhausted in ways I hadn't imagined possible.

I think it may have only been a few seconds, but I suddenly felt the cuffs release, and I collapsed into the soft grass, lying on my side as I found myself crying tears of relief. I was still in my tack... the bridle, the saddle, but my arms, hands... they were mine again. I curled into a ball and felt the emotion, the exhaustion, the humiliation crashing over me in waves. I wiped the tears from my eyes and I noticed Emma, a few feet away, also on the ground. I crawled to her and laid in front of her. She looked at me with tear-brimmed eyes and held her arms out. We held each other. It was awkward as hell with the saddles, and we couldn't speak, but we didn't care. We laid in the soft grass for some further precious moments until I felt something light, stroking... my hair. The blinkers made it awkward to see, but I heard a soft, familiar "zhev-thurn" and settled back into my embrace with Emma while Runt stroked my hair from behind. I caught a glimpse of Emma's handler doing the same before I closed my eyes and felt my emotions pouring out... I had no idea what these emotions even were, but they were strong and overpowering. I would occasionally open my eyes, blinking through tears at Emma, occasionally sharing a glance. Then I would hear the "zhev-thurns", feel the strokes through my hair, the soft grass beneath me, the warm afterglow of the most intense orgasm of my life. Right there, right then, in that moment, I felt... good.

Fuck.