Chapter Four

The four ponygirls stood locked to the long training rail that ran across the open field behind the stables. Their bodies bent forward at the waist, arms wrenched high behind them in the reverse prayer position that forced their shoulders back and their enhanced breasts to thrust out prominently below them. Thick black harnesses crisscrossed their torsos, cinching their waists and framing their bare chests so that every breath made their heavy, surgically rounded mounds rise and fall. Long horsehair tails hung from the plugs seated deep inside them, swaying gently whenever a muscle twitched. Metal bits filled their mouths, and the polished steel shoes on their heelless hoof boots kept their feet locked in a permanent arch.

McKenna occupied the leftmost position, her platinum blonde ponytail spilling down from the top of her rubber hood. Kayleigh stood beside her, smaller and visibly trembling, her own enhanced chest heaving with every shallow breath. Further along the rail, Heloise and Cadence completed the line, the two redheads still carrying the most muscle definition from the relentless conditioning they had endured. All four women glistened in the baking Colombian sun, their heavily tanned skin already damp with the first sheen of effort, and the constant burn of the daily aphrodisiac that never fully left their systems.

Valentina stood majestically a short distance away on a small wooden platform that gave her a clear view of the entire rail. She wore a simple white linen dress that clung to her figure in the humid air, one hand resting lightly on the short crop at her hip. Her eyes watched the two women who now approached the ponies with a newfound eagerness.

Laura and Melissa walked side by side, their movements inhibited by the seven-inch black stiletto boots that forced their arches into an extreme, tottering angle. Both former DEA agents were dressed in black latex catsuits that had been modified to leave their bare breasts entirely exposed, their nipples hardened by the humid breeze and the lingering memory of the morning’s daily edge. Large black ball gags were buckled tightly between their teeth, stretching their lips into wide, receptive circles and forcing them to breathe in ragged, frustrated bursts through their noses. Between their hips, the thick black shafts of their strap-on harnesses jutted forward, bobbing with every step they took toward the training paddock.

“The field is entirely yours today, my sweet Dominas,” Valentina announced clearly across the open dirt. “You have spent enough hours in the dungeon learning the value of obedience and cooperation. Now you will demonstrate to me that you can command my livestock with the same authority I have used to conquer you.”

She stepped back to the edge of her wooden platform and gestured toward the line of four bound women. Laura looked directly at McKenna and remembered the desperate promise she had made to the young missionary on that mountain road. Laura now held a long leather dressage whip in her right hand, her fingers trembling slightly against the braided handle while her left hand gripped a set of thick leather reins. She glanced sideways at Melissa, whose eyes were wide with a mix of shame and obedience behind her heavy, painted makeup.

The blonde agent didn’t hesitate as she stepped into the center of the training yard, her heels biting into the dry earth with every precarious stride. She had been broken by the Sybian and the threats against her sister, and now the drive to perform for Valentina overrode any lingering protection instinct she may still be feeling. Laura raised her whip and brought it down with a sharp, explosive crack against the dirt only inches from McKenna’s hooves.

“Mmmph-hnn-ah-tenn-shunn!” Laura shouted, the command coming out as an almost unintelligible muffled roar around the black ball between her teeth.

McKenna’s body jerked in her harness, her nervous system responding instantly to the authority in the agent’s voice. She was a living doll now, her 34G silicone breasts thrusting forward and upward as her back arched into a rigid display of submission. She recognized the woman behind the ball gag, but the conditioning hammered into her mind during the nights of “Horse God” rituals made refusal impossible.

Beside the new Domina, Melissa moved with a similar mechanical purpose, her brunette pigtails swaying as she positioned herself between the two redheads. She gripped the reins attached to Heloise’s head harness and yanked back, forcing the well-built woman’s head upward and stretching her neck until the bit pressed hard against her tongue. Melissa didn’t offer a silent apology as she once might have; instead, she delivered a stinging lash across Cadence’s broad, heart-shaped ass.

“Hnn-hnn-haaa! T-trophh!” Melissa muffled, her eyes cold behind the thick mascara.

The two redheaded ponies immediately stood up from the bar and snapped into motion, their knees rising high toward their chests in the exaggerated dressage trot they had been trained to maintain. As Melissa led Heloise and Cadence on their training run, McKenna and Kayleigh were left alone, bent over the horizontal post, with Laura looming behind them.

Laura did not permit the blondes a moment of respite while their sisters began their grueling circles around the yard. She stepped behind McKenna and reached down to unfasten the short lead chain that secured the pony’s collar to the training rail. The blonde agent then moved to Kayleigh, repeating the motion until both former missionaries were free from the post but still firmly controlled by the reins in Laura’s gloved left hand. She stepped back and cracked the whip again, this time echoing off the side of McKenna’s left thigh, eliciting a snort of pain from the ponygirl.

“Mmmpph-hnn-high-kneesh! S-sigue!” Laura screamed through her gag, her voice a distorted mess of vowels, but nevertheless managed to speak the conditioned phrase perfectly for the two bound women to hear.

The two blondes immediately surged forward, their metal-shot feet striking the hard-packed dirt with a metallic ring that announced their new status as human livestock. McKenna led the way with her chest thrust out so far it seemed to defy gravity, her massive mounds bouncing with a heavy, stationary force that mocked the modesty she had once cherished in Utah. Beside her, Kayleigh struggled to keep pace, her smaller, but equally impressive, 32DD breasts jiggling frantically as she lifted her knees toward her chin. The iron shoes of the heelless boots clattered in perfect time, a sound that Valentina had grown to love above all others on the estate.

“Mmmphh-hnn-fthster!” Laura ordered as she snapped the whip again, this time catching Kayleigh on the back of her thighs.

The smaller blonde let out a frantic, high-pitched whimper as the leather bit into her skin. She redoubled her efforts, her bronzed legs pumping with animalistic speed while her golden hair flicked behind her with every stride. The two blondes circled the yard as they saw their friends being subjected to the same treatment up ahead.

Melissa guided the redheads toward the center of the paddock, her stiletto boots sinking slightly into the soft earth as she forced Heloise and Cadence to cross paths in a complex, synchronized weave. The two redheaded women were gasping for air around their bits, their powerful muscles rippling beneath their tanned skin as they fought the unnatural arch of their feet. Melissa showed them no mercy and delivered a sharp crack of her whip against Heloise’s broad shoulders when the pony’s pace began to falter.

“Mmmphh-hnn-shynch-ro-nishe!” Melissa commanded around her large gag.

The two pairs of ponies met in the center of the field, and Laura and Melissa worked in perfect, terrifying harmony to bring all four women into a single, tight circle. The ponygirls were forced into a punishing high-stepping trot that sent their surgically enhanced chests into a frenzy of motion, and their horsehair tails flicked with every frantic strike of their hooves.

Valentina watched from her platform, her arms folded beneath her breasts, a look of intense pride filling her features. She raised a hand, signaling for a change in the routine. Laura noticed the gesture immediately and yanked on the reins of the blondes, forcing them to halt so suddenly that McKenna almost toppled forward onto her face.

“Mmphh-hnn-re-versh!” Laura roared through her ball gag, and she snapped the whip twice in the air.

The four women pivoted on their pointed boots, their bodies trembling with the sudden shift in momentum. McKenna and Kayleigh led the new charge in the opposite direction, their knees rising high as they fought the exhaustion that was beginning to cloud their minds. The constant heat of the drug in their systems made the physical exertion feel like a fever dream.

“Enough for now!” Valentina called out, her voice carrying easily across the paddock as she stepped down from her platform.

Laura and Melissa immediately brought the ponies to a halt and led them back to the training rail. The four women were shivering with exhaustion and dripping with sweat. The Dominas stood behind them, their own latex-clad bodies breathing hard.

The cartel leader walked along the line of ponies, her fingers tracing the sweat-slicked skin of McKenna’s back before she turned to the two Dominas. “You have proven that you are ready to lead, my sweet American pets. Tomorrow morning, Doctor Gonzales arrives to finalize their transition into show ponies. You will be responsible for their recovery and their first public appearance.”

Valentina leaned in and patted Laura’s cheek, her smile turning predatory. “I think the upcoming port delivery will be the perfect opportunity for you to show off our new ponies to the world. Now, return them to the stables and see that they are fed. They will need their strength for the surgery.”

The two gagged women nodded in unison, their muffled whimpers of agreement lost in the sound of the wind as they began to lead the four exhausted women back toward the darkness of the stables. McKenna’s ears perked up, and she whinnied aggressively through her gag, the sound of more surgery sounding like a horror she couldn’t bear to withstand, but one smack across her asscheek from Laura put the ponygirl back in her place, and she followed the others back toward the stable.

❖

The following day, Valentina walked through a door at the end of the corridor, leading Dr. Gonzales into the brightly lit room where the first of her prizes awaited. The doctor stopped near the center of the space and looked down at the woman lying on the adjustable white table. McKenna Thompson was completely unconscious, her breathing deep and steady after the long-lasting sedative Valentina had administered earlier that morning. She lay entirely naked, her athletic body exposed from her throat to her toes. The overhead light glinted off her massive 34F silicone breasts, which sat high and defiant even in her state of total relaxation.

Dr. Gonzales stepped closer, a slow and appreciative smile spreading across his face as he took in the woman’s proportions. He reached out with a gloved hand and adjusted his glasses before running a finger along the curve of McKenna’s puffed, filler-enhanced lips.

“She is magnificent, Valentina,” the doctor said, his voice quiet with professional pride. “My initial work has settled beautifully into her frame. The muscle tone you have added to her is exceptional for a creature of this size.”

The cartel leader stood at the head of the table and looked down at the blonde woman with a satisfied grin. She reached out and brushed a strand of golden hair away from the unconscious girl’s forehead, her fingers trailing down the corner of those synthetic, pouty lips.

“She has proven to be quite a resilient animal, Doctor,” Valentina replied, her voice smooth and devoid of any lingering sentimentality. “But yesterday’s training session showed me that she still carries a flicker of that American arrogance. I want her to wake up today and realize that there is no part of her left that belongs to her God or her country. I want her to be a show pony for me in every cell of her body.”

“You should begin with her face,” Valentina stated. “I will miss painting her face every morning, but a show pony must never possess the ability to look tired or unprepared. Give her the face most American bitches would dream of having without needing to make the effort.”

Dr. Gonzales nodded in absolute agreement and turned his attention to the surgical tray resting beside the table. He picked up a high-precision digital tattooing instrument, the fine needle vibrating with a continuous hum as he switched it on.

“I have prepared a custom blend of pigments specifically for her complexion, as you requested, Valentina,” the doctor explained as he leaned over the unconscious blonde. “Her eyes will retain a dramatic, dark framing, her lids will shimmer with red sparkles, and her mouth will carry a permanent high-gloss crimson that mimics the appearance of constant, wet arousal.”

Valentina crossed her arms and watched with intense fascination as the doctor began his delicate work. He started with McKenna’s eyes, the needle moving expertly along her lash line to deposit the rich black ink deep into her skin. The pigment filled the spaces between her lashes, creating a bold, permanent eyeliner that made her closed eyes look incredibly striking. He worked methodically, ensuring the perfect symmetry, ignoring the occasional twitch of the woman’s facial muscles under the sedation. Once he finished with the lids, he moved a little further across, painting black across her tender skin to create a seductive feline style.

The doctor wiped away a small bead of excess ink with a soft cloth and exchanged his needle for a slightly wider tip.

“I will apply the red to her eyelids now,” Dr. Gonzales noted calmly as he adjusted the bright surgical lamp above the table.

“Ensure you add extra sparkles,” Valentina instructed while she leaned closer to inspect his progress. “She needs to look glamorous even when she is sweating and pulling a cart up a dirt mountain.”

The Hispanic doctor nodded and buzzed the needle across the delicate skin of McKenna’s closed eyelids. He deposited the reflective red pigment in carefully measured strokes, and the result created a permanent, glittering eyeshadow that enhanced her submissive beauty.

“Now for the mouth,” the doctor announced, picking up a small vial of vivid red ink. “This particular blend contains micro-reflectors that create a perpetual illusion of moisture.”

“Make the crimson completely dominant,” Valentina commanded with a satisfied smile. “I want her lips to dominate her appearance as she bites on her big gag.”

The digital tattoo device hummed louder as Dr. Gonzales focused on the girl’s plumped lips. He traced the outer edges of her mouth with absolute precision, pushing the scarlet pigment deep into the swollen tissue. The bright red ink instantly transformed McKenna’s mouth into a permanent, highly provocative feature. The doctor filled in the center of her lips, ensuring the rich color saturated every curve. When he wiped the area clean a final time, McKenna’s face resembled a flawless, high-maintenance doll that would never require a single touch of makeup again.

Valentina trailed a manicured finger down the blonde woman’s sternum and stopped between her massive silicone breasts.

“The bit and the tail plugs will keep her primary holes occupied, but her chest must always broadcast her purpose,” the woman stated firmly. “I want her nipples to stand erect forever so that they protrude out and upward whenever she trots.”

“I have the exact implants for this procedure,” the older man replied as he set his tattooing tools aside and reached for a sterile scalpel.

He retrieved a pair of tiny, firm silicone discs from a sealed package on his tray. He moved to the right breast and made a minuscule incision at the base of the areola, working swiftly around the silver barbell that already pierced the flesh. He slid the firm implant directly beneath the sensitive tissue and manipulated it until the pink peak jutted forward sharply. He applied a strong surgical adhesive to seal the cut perfectly, and he repeated the exact procedure on the left breast. The newly altered peaks stood at rigid attention, creating a permanent display of forced arousal.

“Perfect,” the cartel leader praised as she observed the erect nipples. “She will be a beacon of lust in the paddock, and she will never be able to hide her constant arousal ever again.”

Valentina stepped away from the head of the table and walked slowly down the length of McKenna’s unconscious body. She stopped at the foot of the bed and picked up the blonde woman’s right ankle, her fingers tracing the arch of the foot that had spent months crammed inside restrictive footwear.

“The removable boots are no longer sufficient for my needs,” she declared as she dropped the foot back onto the white padding. “I want her locked into the high-arched stance permanently. I want her feet to become literal pony hooves, doctor.”

Dr. Gonzales picked up the surgical marker and moved to the end of the table. “I completely understand your vision, Valentina. I will shorten her Achilles tendon and insert titanium pins to fuse the tarsal bones. This procedure will force her foot into a rigid and permanent point.”

“Very well,” Valentina grinned. “See what you can do. I want her to wake up and realize that walking flat-footed is an impossibility from now on.”

The doctor turned back to his surgical tray and selected a specialized orthopedic instrument. He moved to the end of the table and began the procedure to alter the blonde woman’s mobility permanently. He worked with a quiet, detached purpose, avoiding unnecessary trauma while restructuring the internal alignment of her ankles. The man adjusted the tendons and secured the tarsal bones using strong titanium pins, locking the joints so her toes pointed perpetually downward. He repeated the precise operation on her left leg, ensuring a perfect symmetry in her new, unnatural posture.

“The internal fusion is secure,” Dr. Gonzales explained as he cleaned the surgical sites and applied a fast-acting dermal adhesive. “Her heels are now biologically obsolete. She will be forced to balance on the balls of her feet forever.”

“Excellent,” Valentina smiled, her eyes tracking the doctor’s movements with keen interest. “Now attach the hooves.”

The older man reached into a sterile box and retrieved a pair of solid black composite blocks, molded specifically to fit the newly formed arch of McKenna’s feet. He coated the base of her soles with a powerful, permanent bonding resin and pressed the synthetic hooves firmly against her skin. The chemical agent cured rapidly, fusing the hard material directly to her anatomy so that it became a seamless extension of her own body.

“These will act as her new foundational support,” Dr. Gonzales noted. “But a true show pony requires iron.”

He picked up a small, polished metal horseshoe and a set of specialized nails. He positioned the curved iron against the bottom of the composite block and began to tap the nails into place. The rhythmic strikes of his hammer echoed sharply across the room, the sound acting as a drumbeat of the blonde’s final loss of humanity. He worked the metal onto both feet, securing the shoes with absolute permanence.

Valentina examined the doctor’s handiwork, walking a slow circle around the table. The iron shoes were securely fastened to the black hooves, ensuring that every step the former missionary took would echo with a sharp, metallic clatter. The cartel leader leaned in close, inspecting the fused joints and the permanent arch of McKenna’s feet, her expression one of satisfaction.

“She is almost ready,” Valentina murmured softly as she turned back to Dr. Gonzales. She leaned in close to his ear and whispered a few words that made the older man’s eyes widen slightly before a broad, knowing grin spread across his face.

“I have exactly the right tool for that request, Doña,” he replied with a slight bow of his head. “It will be my pleasure to add the finishing touch.”

Ten minutes later, the doctor stepped back from the table and smiled down at his fresh tattoo job. Just above the curve, the smooth mound of McKenna’s pussy, a large, sprawling cursive font now displayed her new adopted name: Macarena. The letters were inked in deep, black pigment, permanently branding her flesh with the identity Valentina had chosen for her.

“It is a beautiful name for a beautiful mare,” the doctor commented as he cleaned his instruments.

“It is,” Valentina agreed as she admired the prominent, fresh brand. “And the others will receive their own names in due time.”

Valentina turned toward the door and snapped her fingers twice. Two thick-set henchmen entered immediately, their eyes respectfully lowered until their boss gave them permission to approach.

“The surgery is complete,” Valentina told the men as she pointed to the unconscious blonde. “Redress Macarena in her harness. Ensure the chest straps frame her new nipples perfectly and secure that bit back in her mouth. Once she’s fully equipped, put her back in the stall.”

The men nodded and moved toward the table, lifting McKenna’s limp, altered body with practiced ease. The iron horseshoes on her permanently arched feet clanged against the table as they shifted her weight.

“And when you’re done with her,” Valentina added as she turned back to the doctor with a sadistic smile. “Bring the little blonde one in. Doctor Gonzales still has three more ponies to perfect before the sun goes down.”

❖

The morning sun bathed the expansive stone courtyard of the Hacienda in a warm, golden glow. At the center of the space stood a large wooden cart, its bed overflowing with illicit cargo hidden entirely beneath a large blue tarpaulin tied down with thick rope. Secured to the wooden draft poles at the front of the cart were four extraordinary creatures. The women stood in a rigid, disciplined square formation, their bodies permanently altered overnight to serve as high-end livestock.

The physical modifications Doctor Gonzales had performed were identical across the entire team. Each woman wore a black leather harness that crisscrossed around her body and framed her enhanced bare chest, pushing her breasts together while leaving the centers completely exposed. The tiny silicone discs implanted beneath their areolas forced their pierced nipples to stand at rigid, perpetual attention, broadcasting a permanent state of arousal that could never be hidden. Their faces were adorned with the same high-gloss cosmetic tattoos, featuring dramatic black eyeliner, sparkling red eyeshadow, and bright crimson lips that wrapped tightly around the thick metal bits in their mouths. Their heads were crowned with leather head harnesses now topped with tall, vibrant plumes that matched their hair, with the blondes sporting golden feathers and the redheads adorned in fiery crimson.

The most dramatic change anchored them to the ground. The four women balanced precariously on their new, permanent hooves. Their Achilles tendons had been surgically shortened and their tarsal bones fused, locking their feet into a severe, ballet-point arch that ended in solid black blocks. Polished iron horseshoes were nailed directly into the blocks, ensuring that every subtle shift of their legs produced a sharp, metallic clatter against the courtyard stones. Just above the smooth, well-used mound of their pussies, large black cursive tattoos proudly displayed their new identities to the world. Macarena and Camila (McKenna and Kayleigh) occupied the front of the draft line, while Catalina and Eloisa (Cadence and Heloise) stood securely just behind them, their long horsehair buttplugged tails flicking nervously against their thighs.

The doors of the manor opened, and Valentina descended the wide stone steps with a measured pace. She had traded her linen dress for a black riding habit that cinched her waist and highlighted her commanding posture, and she carried a silver-tipped riding crop that she tapped against the side of her thigh. The crop was more for show these days, now that she had her new Dominas to dish out the punishment and training for her.

Following several paces behind Valentina, Laura and Melissa emerged onto the landing. The two former agents were clad in their signature black catsuits, the material polished to a high mirror shine that caught the sun’s direct glare. The suits were designed to showcase their vulnerability and their utility simultaneously, featuring open-bust cuts that left their breasts entirely bare while the rigid corset boning beneath pushed their mounds upward. Large glossy black ball gags were buckled tightly between their teeth, stretching their mouths into wide, silent circles of submission. As there was no training scheduled for today, their strapons were nowhere in sight as they stepped forward in their seven-inch stiletto boots. To complete the look, Laura wore a black leather collar with the words ‘DOMINA UNO’ spelled out in white block capitals, a silver O-ring hanging in the middle at the front. Melissa wore an identical ‘DOMINA DOS’ nameplate across her throat.

Valentina stopped at the edge of the cobblestones and looked over her team with the pride of someone who was used to getting exactly what she wanted. She walked toward McKenna, the golden plume atop the blonde’s head-harness shivering as the woman trembled. The cartel leader reached out and traced the sharp, tattooed cursive of the woman’s new name, her fingernails grazing the sensitive skin just above the ponygirl’s mound. The blonde let out a muffled, high-pitched whinny, her body jerking forward as the arch of her feet clattered against the stone.

“You look absolutely exquisite today, Macarena,” Valentina said, her voice rich with a mocking warmth that never reached her eyes. “The doctor has truly outdone himself. You are no longer the timid church girl who arrived on the bus. You are a glorious showpony, along with your friends here, and you belong to the Hacienda.”

McKenna snorted and clumped her iron-clad hoof onto the ground in protest, showing the blonde ponygirl hadn’t been completely tamed despite the permanent modifications and constant drugged-up state. The cartel leader grinned and let out a small chuckle at the woman’s reaction as she moved to the girl beside her.

Kayleigh stood beside her leader, her more petite frame looking even more delicate despite the aggressive physical enhancements; her DD-cup breasts were pushed so far forward by the harness that the silver nipple rings seemed to point toward the horizon. Valentina ran the silver tip of her crop over the fresh cursive ink spelling out the pony’s new name, and the girl let out a soft whimper through her bit.

“Domina Uno, Dos, take your places on the bench,” Valentina commanded, her eyes never leaving the team of ponies. “The delivery to El Cartador Port is your first real test. Fifteen miles is a long way for these ponies to trot, but I expect them to get there on time and trot in a perfectly synchronized pace the entire time. If you fail, I will ensure your punishment is severe, ladies.”

Laura and Melissa moved in unison, their heels clicking against the stone steps as they descended to the level of the cart. Domina Uno reached the wooden driver’s bench first, her latex-clad thighs straining as she climbed on top, and sat on the phallic-shaped rubber toy protruding from her seat, the dildo sliding through a slit in her suit, invading her pussy. Domina Dos followed closely behind, settling atop her own dildo beside her partner, eliciting a moan around the black gag. The pair looked like a twin contradiction, radiating both submission and authority, their bare breasts on full display for all of Colombia to view. Laura reached out and grabbed the leather driving reins, her gloved fingers wrapping tightly around the straps that connected directly to the iron bits in the mouths of the four women below.

Valentina stepped back and gestured toward the open iron gates at the end of her estate. “Our guests at the port are not patient people. They expect their product at noon, and they expect to be entertained by the sight of my prize fillies. Do not make them wait.”

Laura tightened her grip on the reins as she felt the rubber intrusion between her thighs shift. She glanced at Melissa, seeing the same suppressed stimulation in the other woman’s eyes. Laura knew that once the cart moved, the mechanical linkage beneath the floorboards would begin its work, and her role as a driver would become a test of her own physical endurance.

“Mmmph-hnn-mm-mrr!” Laura muffled through her gag, her eyes locking onto the backs of the four ponies.

She snapped the reins sharply, the leather biting into the air before the tug reached the mouths of McKenna and Kayleigh. The four ponygirls responded instantly, their conditioning overriding the initial shock of the heavy cargo behind them. McKenna leaned into the chest straps of her harness, her muscly legs straining as she pushed off the stone with her iron-shod hooves. Beside her, Kayleigh mimicked the motion, her smaller frame working twice as hard to keep the draft poles level.

A deafening clatter filled the courtyard as the eight horseshoes struck the cobblestones in a rhythmic succession. The cart groaned, its wooden wheels beginning to rotate slowly at first as the heavy cargo under the blue cover resisted the initial momentum. As the wheels completed their first full turn, a series of clicks echoed from the axle. Laura and Melissa both let out a choked gasp as the dildos beneath them began their slow vertical movement, driven by the turning of the wheels.

“Nn-ngaa! T-trophhh!” Laura shouted, the command a distorted roar that signaled the start of the journey.

The team transitioned into their high-stepping trot, their knees rising toward their chests with practiced uniformality. The tall plumes atop their heads bobbed, and their tails flicked back and forth as they crossed the threshold of the courtyard. The metallic ring of their hooves grew sharper as they left the manor behind, entering the dirt path that would lead them down the mountain.

Valentina watched from the steps, her arms folded as the cart disappeared behind the first row of trees. Six of her best-armed henchmen marched slowly behind the cart, ensuring the security of the high-value cargo was assured.

The sight of the four decorated, tattooed ponies pulling the heavy load while the two gagged Dominas bounced in their seats brought a look of amusement to the dark-haired leader’s face. The “clip-clop” of the iron shoes faded into the dense Colombian foliage, leaving only the settling red dust in the air. The long trek to the port had begun, and for the four women in the harness, the world was narrowing down to the pull of the leather, the bite of the bit, and the constant sound of their own permanent hooves striking the earth.

❖

The grueling seven-hour trek from the mountains was finally coming to an end as the industrial skyline of El Cartador Port began to dominate the horizon. The dirt trails had long since given way to asphalt, and the constant metallic clatter of iron horseshoes striking the hard ground created a deafening symphony that announced the convoy’s approach.

The four ponygirls were visibly flagging, their powerful legs trembling with every high-stepping stride they were forced to take. Macarena and Camila led the way, their heads bowed as far as the short lead-chains would allow, while Catalina and Eloisa followed in the rear, their tanned bodies coated in a thick layer of salty perspiration.

The cart rolled forward with a heavy groan, its wheels turning steadily on the concrete as the port warehouse destination loomed closer. Macarena felt every ounce of the load pulling against her harness, her arched hooves striking the ground with a sharp clack that echoed off the surrounding building.

Laura sat rigid on the driver’s bench, her body rocking in time with the cart’s motion. The thick internal dildo connected to the axle thrust upward into her with every rotation of the wheels, driving deep and rubbing her most sensitive spot without mercy. She had already come fifteen times during the long journey, each orgasm leaving her more sensitive than the last. Her exposed breasts bounced up and down, her nipples hard and aching in the exposed air. Beside her, Melissa panted through her nose around the large gag, her own body trembling from the constant internal stimulation.

The cart slowed noticeably as the ponies approached the final stretch of road. Macarena’s knees dipped lower, her steps ground sluggish. Camila stumbled for half a beat, and the entire team faltered, the cargo behind them threatening to drag the cart to a complete stop.

Laura felt the loss of momentum and snapped the reins sharply across the ponies’ shoulders, the leather cracking loudly in the humid air.

“Mmmphh-hnnn-fthster!” she roared through her gag, the command distorted but unmistakable in its demand.

The four ponies responded instantly, their training winning out over their exhaustion. Macarena and Camila lifted their knees higher, their shoes striking the asphalt with renewed force. Catalina and Eloisa matched the surge behind them, the entire team pulling the cart forward with a fresh burst of effort.

The port warehouse came into full view mid-afternoon, a large open-sided structure with corrugated metal walls and a wide concrete apron. Two men in casual clothes stood near the entrance, waving the cart forward. Laura guided the group straight into the center of the warehouse floor, the wheels rumbling over the concrete as the ponies slowed to a halt. The four women stood breathing hard, sweat running down their tanned bodies and between their heavy breasts. Their permanent makeup remained flawless despite the agonizing journey, the glossy lips and sparkling red eyeshadow giving them the look of erotic dolls even in their exhausted state.

The six armed guards that had been following the cargo in a procession, including the lead henchman, Raul, stepped out from the shadows and flanked the vehicle, their rifles held ready. The atmosphere shifted instantly as fifteen men emerged from a nearby door, all with guns in their hands, forming a wide circle around the cart, its cargo, and Valentina’s men. The air grew thick with tension.

Raul raised both hands slowly, palms open, and spoke in rapid Spanish, his voice steady and commanding. “Tranquilos, muchachos. Esto es la entrega acordada. No hay necesidad de armas. Bajen las pistolas.”

The armed men around the cart shifted but kept their weapons trained on the group. For a moment, the warehouse fell into an agonizing silence. Then a man in an expensive tailored suit stepped out from a rusty doorway, his presence immediately commanding the space. Heavy gold chains rested against his chest, thick rings glittered on every finger, and a pair of designer sunglasses sat perched on his head, even though the warehouse lighting was dim. He moved with the casual swagger of someone who expected the world to bend around him, his eyes sweeping over the cart, the cargo, and then lingering on the four harnessed women with open hunger.

The rival cartel leader then turned his attention to the two Dominas still seated on the bench. Laura and Melissa sat rigidly, their gags preventing any speech, their exposed breasts on full display. The man stepped up to the cart and reached out, running a hand along Laura’s glistening, sensitive pussy folds, the dildo still seated inside her. He chuckled lightly.

“I knew Valentina promised a ponygirl procession as part of the delivery, but these two are a nice bonus,” he said, his tone turning even more mocking. “Look how wet they are. Gringas always get hot when we treat them like property. Perhaps I should take these six as a goodwill gesture.”

Raul stepped forward, his expression hardening as he positioned himself between the rival leader and the Dominas.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” he said firmly in English, his voice carrying across the warehouse so everyone could hear. “The agreement was clear. The cargo is delivered, the ponies and the Dominas return intact with us. Doña Valentina would not be happy if anything happened to her property.”

The rival laughed, but the sound held a dangerous, unpredictable edge. He kept his hand on Laura’s thigh, fingers tracing the latex near her exposed pussy while he looked Raul directly in the eyes.

“And what will you do if we decide we want to take the girls anyway?” he mocked with an arrogant grin. “Fifteen of us, plus another dozen more behind that door, against six of you? I don’t think you’d have much say in this.”

The arrogant man reached up and squeezed Laura’s breast roughly, rolling her nipple between his fingers until she let out a choked, muffled whimper around her ball gag. Melissa shifted uncomfortably on the bench beside her, but neither Dominas dared to move.

Raul’s hand moved closer to the grip of his pistol, though he kept it steady. “You’re right,” he said stoically, not losing eye contact with the flamboyant leader. “But Valentina wouldn’t be very happy to learn of the disappearance of her ponies and the death of her men. You may outnumber us here, but the Doña controls more territory than you do.”

The rival leader moved his hand from Laura’s thigh to the leather collar around her neck, tracing the ‘DOMINA UNO’ nameplate with a gold-ringed finger. He let out a low whistle, his eyes moving over her exposed breasts. “Domina Uno,” he repeated, his voice oily with amusement as he looked at Melissa’s identical collar. “Valentina always had a flair for the dramatic. I heard these two used to be American federal agents sniffing around in the wrong jurisdiction before your lady got her hands on them. I do enjoy a bit of poetic justice.”

He pulled his hands away from the former agent and turned back to Raul, his grin widening as he saw the tension in the lead henchman’s shoulders and the way the guards tightened their grips on their weapons.

“Fine. I will not start a war over a couple of sexy ponies today,” he announced, finally stepping back from the driver’s bench. “But I think my time here today is worth something. I’d like to inspect one of these ponies properly. I want to see what Valentina has been doing in her spare time.”

The rival, Don Satiro, walked around the front of the cart until he stood directly in front of Macarena. He reached out and grabbed her chin with a tight grip, forcing her head up so he could inspect the permanent makeup that made her look like a high-priced whore. He traced the red tattoo on her lips with his thumb, pushing the flesh back to see the metal bit resting against her tongue. Macarena let out a panicked, wet snort, her blue eyes wide with terror behind her blinkers as she felt his breath on her face. She pulled against the restraints keeping her arms behind her back, but she was helpless against the man’s touch.

Satiro released Macarena’s chin and walked slowly around her side, his hand grazing her sweat-slicked ribs. He stopped behind her, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the smooth, bronzed skin above her exposed slit. He laughed when he saw the cursive script of her identity.

“Macarena,” he read aloud, his voice dripping with mocking sweetness. “I’m guessing this isn’t your original name, Gringa. I wonder if you still remember your old name, or if this is the only thing that matters to you now.”

Satiro’s fingers traced the black cursive letters above Macarena’s pussy one more time before he moved to Camila, repeating the same invasive inspection. He cupped the smaller blonde’s breast, squeezed it firmly, and gave the erect nipple a sharp pinch that made Camila whimper around her bit.

“These are impressive upgrades,” he said, his voice loud enough for the entire warehouse to hear. “These nipples feel unnaturally firm. Valentina must have paid a fortune on these sluts.”

He walked behind the front pair and ran his hand over Catalina’s powerful ass, slapping it hard enough to make the redhead jolt forward. He did the same to Eloisa, his fingers moving between her thighs to feel the slickness caused by the constant drug in her system and the Pavlovian conditioning resulting from it.

“Always ready,” he commented with a crude laugh. “Looks like these ponies get turned on being treated like this.”

The rival leader signaled to his own lead henchman, who walked with a couple of his men behind the cart and pulled the blue tarpaulin off the top of the hold. Hundreds of brown packets filled the deep trailer, and Satiro grinned widely.

“The cargo looks good,” he said. “We’ll take it all. You can keep the ponies for now, but I’ll be negotiating harder with Valentina next time.”

The unloading began immediately. Satiro’s men swarmed the cart, pulling crates and heavy wrapped packages from the trailer and carrying them toward the waiting vans at the far side of the warehouse. The process was efficient but tense, with Raul’s guards keeping their rifles ready and eyes locked on every movement. The rival leader stood back for a moment, watching the cargo transfer with a satisfied smirk before he turned his attention back to the four ponygirls.

He stepped closer to Macarena again, this time running both hands along her sides and cupping the heavy undersides of her gigantic breasts. He squeezed them firmly, thumbs brushing over the permanently erect nipple until the blonde let out a muffled, shaky whimper.

“These are some of the best tits I’ve ever seen,” the man said. “Firm, hard, obviously fake. I’m impressed.”

As this was going on, the Dominas remained completely still on the bench. They had spent their adult life training on how to stop a drug run like this, and now they were willing accomplices, waiting for the transfer to complete before starting the return journey.

“Enough,” Raul said firmly as Satiro’s fingers squeezed Macarena’s nipple a little too firmly. “The cargo is almost loaded. Take what you came for, and let us leave.”

Satiro laughed again. He held all the cards here, but didn’t want to push his luck. He stepped back from the ponies and gestured for his men to finish the transfer. The last of the wrapped packages was moved into the vans, and one of Satiro’s lieutenants handed Raul two briefcases filled with cash. Raul opened the cases and quickly inspected the contents, then nodded once to confirm that the payment was correct.

The rival leader adjusted his suit jacket and gave the four ponygirls one final, lingering look.

“Tell Valentina I look forward to her next shipment, and I’d appreciate a couple of these fillies for me to break in myself,” he said with a crude grin. “I’d love to show these American whores what a man can do with ponies like these.”

Raul didn’t smile. He simply turned to his men and gave a short nod. “Cover up the trailer, and let’s move out,” he ordered.

The henchmen quickly secured the empty cart once more, tightening the ropes around the blue tarpaulin that now covered nothing but air. Laura and Melissa adjusted their grips on the reins, their bodies still flushed and trembling from the long journey and the constant fucking they had endured, knowing they were about to do it all over again.

Laura tightened her grip on the reins one last time and snapped them forward with a sharp, authoritative crack. The four ponygirls leaned into their harnesses in perfect unison, their iron-shod hooves striking the floor with a fresh metallic ring. The much lighter cart lurched forward once more, its empty bed now light enough for the team to pick up speed as they turned toward the wide warehouse doors and the open road beyond. The delivery had been successful, and now the Dominas just needed to get the ponies home safe and sound.

❖

The following day, the four ponygirls stayed bent over the long horizontal pole in the paddock. They had been locked in that exact position for two full hours, their bodies stretched forward, their arms still bound tightly in reverse prayer behind their backs. The position forced their enhanced breasts to hang beneath them while their permanently arched feet kept their lower legs at a severe angle. These ponies were no longer hooded, and their new permanent makeup stayed flawless as ever, the glossy red lips parted around the metal bits, and the sparkling eyeshadow decorating eyes that darted with growing desperation.

Macarena tried to turn her head toward the others, the blinkers on her head harness limiting her view to a narrow tunnel. She made a series of low, urgent sounds around her bit, the syllables distorted into a garbled mess. “Mmmphh… hnnn… mmmphh-ahhh?”

Kayleigh answered from her right. She had no idea what her sister was saying, but wanted to let her know that she was still here for her. “Hnnn… mmmphhh… hahh… npphhh!”

The four women kept trying to speak, their muffled voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus of unintelligible noises. No real words formed, only raw, emotional sounds that conveyed their shared fear and helplessness. They had spent weeks learning to understand one another through these gagged sounds, but the longer they remained bent over the pole, the more desperate their attempts became. Macarena’s eyes flicked from side to side within the tunnel of her blinkers, but her head couldn’t turn enough to physically make eye contact with any of the other women.

A new sound cut through their muffled conversation. It started faint in the distance, then grew steadily louder, a rhythmic clatter of metal shoes striking the packed dirt path that led into the paddock. The four ponygirls froze, their ears straining as the sound grew closer from the front. Hooves. Multiple sets. What was going on?

Two figures emerged from the shadows near the paddock entrance. The pair walked toward the rail. Their pace was dictated by the two henchmen who held their leather leashes. These were the former DEA agents, Patrick and Samuel, but they were barely recognizable. They were naked, their skin stretched tight over muscle that hadn’t been there a few days ago. Black leather harnesses crisscrossed their chests and backs, and their arms were pulled behind them, wrists locked in leather cuffs. Their heads were encased in harnesses that featured blinkers and metal bits that filled their mouths, just like the women they were approaching, while long black horsetails were plugged into their asses, flicking against their legs as they walked.

As they stepped onto the paddock dirt, the sound of their iron shoes was sharp. Unlike the women, their feet hadn’t been surgically altered; instead, they wore black heelless boots that forced them onto the balls of their feet, mimicking the equine gait.

The men had been transformed into massive powerhouses. Their shoulders were broad, and their chests were deep, showcasing highly defined eight-packs that pulled taut with every step. Their thighs were thick and corded with muscle, a result of the high-dose chemical regimen Valentina had them on. The drugs accelerated their muscle growth to an impossible degree, but the side effects were clear in their vacant, unfocused eyes. The drug dampened their intelligence and mental reasoning, and the two workhorses moved with an unthinking purpose, their formerly sharp minds reduced to a state of dull, animalistic instinct.

As the men were led closer to the rail, the ponygirls’ eyes widened. The steel chastity devices that had previously locked the men away were gone. Their cocks were completely free, hanging thick and semi-erect between their powerful thighs. The drugs had increased their size significantly, leaving them far larger than any of the women had seen before. The sight of the massive, pulsing shafts caused Macarena to let out a shaky whimper through her gag.

The henchmen stopped the men directly in front of the line of ponygirls. They stood for a moment, enjoying the sight of the four beautiful, tattooed mares shivering at the rail. One of the guards stepped forward and unhooked the leashes from the men’s collars.

“Divertíos, animales,” the guard said with a mocking laugh.

“No las rompáis demasiado rápido,” the other added as they turned and walked toward the gate, leaving the transformed men alone with the four bound women.

A week ago, Patrick and Samuel would have used this alone time to look for a way to break these women out of their predicament. They would have used their training to analyze the situation and find a weakness. Now, those thoughts were gone. Their mental capacity for reasoning had been hollowed out, replaced by a single, driving biological imperative. They looked at the four mares secured to the rail and saw only a target for their mounting arousal.

Patrick moved first. He stepped up to Macarena and lowered his head, sniffing along the side of her neck and into her platinum hair. The blonde pony tried to jerk away, but the pole and bindings held her fast. Patrick let out a low, throaty neigh around his gag, the sound vibrating so deeply in his chest that it caused Macarena to moan out. His cock hardened fully now, the head already glistening as he positioned himself behind her.

Macarena’s eyes widened in panic. She felt the broad tip of his member press against her slick entrance, and then he pushed forward with one steady thrust. The sheer size of him stretched her pussy wide open, filling her completely. She screamed around her bit in a raw, broken whinny.

“Mmmphhh-ahhhnnnngh!”

The intrusion was overwhelming. Patrick’s thick cock stretched her walls to their limit, the veined shaft dragging against every sensitive spot inside her as he began to thrust with powerful strokes of increasing intensity. Macarena’s body rocked forward against the pole with each impact, her huge tits swinging beneath her while the plug inside her ass shifted in time with his movements. The conditioned craving flared instantly, mixing with the sharp sting of being stretched so wide. She hated how good it felt, how her body betrayed her by clenching around him, drawing him deeper even as her mind continued to rebel in protest.

Samuel circled Camila at the same moment. The other blonde let out a high whimper as he too sniffed her hair, then positioned himself behind her. His engorged cock pressed against her entrance, and he drove forward without warning, burying himself to the hilt. Camila’s muffled cry rose in pitch, her small, athletic frame shuddering as her pussy was filled.

The two male workhorses fucked the blonde pair with steady, animalistic rhythm. Patrick’s powerful thighs flexed as he drove into Macarena, his heavy balls slapping against her as he moved back and forth. Samuel matched pace on Camila, his large frame making her body rock forward against the pole with each stroke. The sounds of the flesh getting pounded filled the paddock, while the women’s gagged cries overlapped in a chorus of distorted pleasure and shame.

The men did not stay in place for long. After several minutes of intense fucking, Patrick and Samuel switched places without a word. Patrick moved behind Catalina, slamming his thick cock into the athletic redhead and drawing a deep, guttural moan from her. Samuel took Eloisa, his thick, unnatural shaft stretching the fiery redhead open as he arched against the pole.

The rotation continued, the men moving down the line so every ponygirl felt the overwhelming size of their enhanced cocks. They fucked with single-minded focus, their drug-altered bodies driven purely by instinct. Macarena orgasmed first, her body convulsing around Patrick’s cock as she screamed during his second visit. Catalina followed soon after, before Camila and Eloisa reached their climax not long after that.

Patrick’s thrusts grew erratic as he buried himself deep inside Macarena for the third and final time. His body tensed, muscles locking as he drove himself forward with a deep groan that vibrated through his gag. Thick ropes of cum flooded the blonde ponygirl’s pussy, the sheer volume forcing some of it to leak out around his shaft and run down her thighs in warm streams. Macarena’s eyes rolled back, her body shuddering violently as the sensation pushed her into another earth-shattering climax.

Soon after, Samuel slammed into Eloisa and held himself there, his penis pulsing hard as he emptied his balls inside the redhead. He let out an animalistic groan through the metal bit while his seed pumped into her in heavy spurts, releasing far more cum than a normal human ever should.

The two workhorses stayed buried inside the women for a while, their chests heaving as they recollected themselves from the intense orgasms. They slowly pulled free, their thick shafts glistening with a mixture of their own cum and the ponies’ juices. Patrick and Samuel stepped back, their semi-hard cocks still hanging wildly between their legs as they caught their breath.

The henchmen returned shortly after, whistling casually as they approached the two men. They reattached the leashes to their collars with efficient movements and gave a sharp tug, leading the former agents away from the rail. The four ponygirls remained bent over the pole, freshly used and humiliated, Macarena and Eloisa’s pussies dripping with cum. The four tensed against their poles, their bindings still holding them firm, as they realized that the very people who had been sent to save them were now contributing to their degradation and downfall.

❖

The following day began with a harsh transition from the relative peace of the stables to the uncompromising dirt of the training paddock. The four ponygirls moved with a labored stiffness, their muscles still reeling from the intense violations and exertion of the last few days. Macarena led the team toward the center of the field, her iron-shod hooves striking the ground with a resonant clatter that seemed to echo around the entire estate. Behind her, Camila, Catalina, and Eloisa followed in a tight formation, their heads held high by the restrictive leather of their show harnesses. The permanent cosmetics on their faces remained as stark and perfect as the day they were tattooed, ensuring they looked like high-end erotic figurines regardless of their internal exhaustion.

Laura and Melissa stood waiting for them, still wearing the familiar breast-baring catsuit they had become accustomed to. They looked slightly different this morning, their eyes possessing a detached focus that had been forged during the long, overstimulating trek to the port and back, and their subsequent conditioning. Large ball gags remained buckled tightly between their teeth, and the leather collars around their throats identified them as Domina Uno and Domina Dos. They held their whips with a firm grip, ready to enforce the absolute perfection that Valentina demanded for her prized livestock.

“Mmphh-hnn-ah-ten-shunn!” Laura roared through her gag, the command coming out as a distorted but unmistakable roar that made the four women flinch.

The four ponygirls snapped into a straight line, their backs arching and their arms wrenched high behind them. This stance forced their surgically rounded tits to thrust outward, their permanently erect nipples standing in sharp peaks toward the former DEA agents.

Melissa moved to the end of the line, her crop snapping against Eloisa’s thigh to correct a slight tilt in the redhead’s posture. The ponygirl yelped out and flinched, her iron shoes snapping against the ground as she adjusted her stance. The Dominas were informed that they were no longer to train the women in simple trots or basic obedience; today was all about the complex, synchronized maneuvers that defined a world-class show pony.

“Mmmph-hnn-shide-sh-tep!” Laura commanded, cracking her long dressage whip in the air with an explosive sound.

The team began to move laterally, their legs crossing in a complicated weave. It was a punishing movement that put immense strain on their fused ankles and the shortened tendons of their lower legs. Macarena’s jaw tightened around her gag as she focused on the precise placement of her hooves. She could feel the gaze of Domina Uno on her, watching for any sign of hesitation or weakness. When Camila faltered for a fraction of a second, the sting of Laura’s whip across the woman’s rear was immediate and uncompromising.

The blonde ponygirl whinnied in pain, her golden plume bobbing as she scrambled to regain the tempo of the sidestep. The eight iron shoes hit the packed dirt in a metronomic sequence as the four women fought to maintain their alignment. Laura stepped in closer, the tip of her whip trailing through the dust near Macarena’s hooves. The agent showed no hint of the woman she had once been; her movements were calculated, and her focus was entirely on the aesthetics of the display.

“Hnn-gnaa! K-kneesh-high-er!” Laura muffled, her eyes fixed on the way the ponies’ legs crossed in the weave.

The team responded by driving their knees toward their chests with every lateral stride. The effort caused their massive silicone breasts to bounce with a dense force; the skin of their chests pulled taut by the leather straps. Macarena could feel the warm ache in her pelvis from the day before, but the bite of the whip was a more pressing concern. She kept her eyes locked in the tunnel of her blinkers, following the slight movements of the pony beside her to stay in perfect sync.

Melissa moved to the front of the line and raised her hand, signaling for a change in direction. “Mmmph-hnn-piv-ot!”

The four women stopped their sideways movement and pivoted on their permanent points. The horseshoes ground into the dirt, producing a harsh, metallic rasp. They turned three hundred and sixty degrees in a single unified motion, their horsehair tails flickering against their thighs as they completed the circle. The coordination was flawless and a total transformation from the clumsy group they had been at the start of their training.

Laura walked the length of the line, her crop tapping against her palm. She stopped behind Catalina and delivered a sharp smack to the redhead’s broad ass. “Hnn-hnn-haaa! Sh-tray-t!”

Catalina’s back arched further, her chest thrusting out so far it seemed to defy the limits of her anatomy. The redheaded pony let out a soft, gagged whimper, but she didn’t dare break her posture. They were being worked like actual animals, their human identities entirely submerged beneath the requirements Valentina had laid out. The permanent makeup on their faces ensured that even in their state of total fatigue, they looked ready to be put on display.

The training session continued for another hour, moving through more complex maneuvers. They were forced to perform synchronized rears, where they balanced precariously on their hooves while their bound arms and thrust-out chests were on full display. The strain on their legs was immense, yet the Dominas didn’t let the ponies rest. Every mistake was met with the whip or the crop, the sharp sounds of leather on skin echoing around the area.

Valentina appeared at the edge of the paddock, her soft yellow sundress a stark contrast to the dusty ground. She watched the final sequence of maneuvers with a look of supreme pride, her arms folded beneath her breasts. She had trained the Dominas perfectly, who in turn were teaching the four poor ponies. Valentina waited until the ponygirls completed a final, high-stepping circle before she raised a silver-tipped crop to signal a halt.

Laura and Melissa immediately brought the team to a stop. The four ponygirls stood in a ragged line, shivering with the combined toll of the training and the constant horniness they now felt.

The cartel leader walked into the center of the paddock, her heels clicking domineeringly on the stones. She walked slowly along the line, her fingers tracing the sweat-slicked skin of Macarena’s shoulder before moving to Camila. She reached out and flicked the other blonde’s erect nipple, drawing a muffled, high-pitched, needy whinny from the girl.

“You have all performed exceptionally well this morning,” Valentina announced, her voice rich with a warmth that felt like poison to the women in the harness. “After what I have seen, I believe that you are ready for a proper exhibition. Your grace and obedience are a credit to the Hacienda’s methods.”

Valentina paused, reaching out and tracing the cursive ink of Macarena’s name, her manicured nail dragging over the skin just above the pony’s pussy. Macarena’s body jerked enough that she struggled to stay upright on her en-pointe hooves.

“Because you have progressed so quickly, I have decided to reward your devotion with a special opportunity,” the matriarch continued, her smile widening into something bordering evil. “I have entered the four of you into a very special international competition. It is a public event where the top human pony show girls are permitted to perform to the judges and the thousands in attendance.”

“Mmphhh?!” Macarena muffled out. A competition? With thousands watching What the hell was this woman talking about, the blonde thought to herself as she shuddered.

“I can see the excitement in your eyes, Macarena,” Valentina said, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper as she stepped closer to the blonde’s ear. “You should be proud. Not every animal gets to showcase its pedigree on such a grand stage. And I have chosen the perfect venue for your debut.”

The cartel leader turned to address the group, her eyes flashing with sadistic delight. “We will be traveling soon. I want you to be prepared for the change of scenery. The competition is being held in a place where your particular brand of beauty will be truly appreciated. We are taking the Hacienda’s prize team to the United States.”

Macarena felt her heart stop for a beat. The United States? She was going back home? Her mind raced with the possibility of rescue, or being seen by someone who could help them. But the look on Valentina’s face told her that there was no mercy in this plan.

“Specifically,” Valentina continued, her grin widening, “the competition will be held in Salt Lake City, Utah.”

A wave of absolute nausea washed over the four women. Macarena’s knees buckled, and she only remained upright due to the intense training she had just succumbed to. Their commune was only about 50 miles from Salt Lake City. They were truly being sent home, but not as the sisters or missionaries they left as. They were going back as anonymous, high-gloss property, branded and trained to perfection for the world to see.

“Mmmph-hnn-nghaaa!” Macarena’s cry was a broken, high-pitched moan of pure despair that shivered through the quiet space.

Valentina watched the ponies reaction with open satisfaction, circling them once more and letting her fingers trail across bare skin as she passed. She stopped in front of the line and looked each woman in the eye, her expression softening.

“You’re going home, girls,” she said almost affectionately, the words dripping with cruel delight.

She turned to Laura and Melissa, who stood rigid at attention beside the ponies.

“Make sure they are in perfect condition for the event,” Valentina ordered with authority. “If these ponies falter on that stage, it will be you two who will suffer the consequences.”

The two Dominas nodded in unison, their ball gags turning any reply into thick, nasal sounds of obedience. Valentina gave the pair one last approving glance, then whistled a cheerful little tune to herself as she turned and walked away from the paddock, leaving the four devastated ponygirls standing frozen in their line.

The women remained in place, their minds reeling from the announcement, while the Dominas tightened their grips on the reins, ready to resume training. The ponies were heading back to the US, Utah no less, and they could only hope that someone there would recognize them and save them from this waking nightmare.

End of Chapter Four.