I woke up to Catherine hovering over me waking me, though it took me a moment to realize this in my drowsiness. And after another moment more, took in what woke me Catherine's had massaging my chest. While a bit persona, I had to admit it was a nice way to be awoken. Especially in comparison to being jolted from sleep by the screech of an alarm clock.
Plus I had slept like a rock all night. I had been skeptical about how comfortable the bed could be, strapped in and being unable to turn or reposition. But last night I had been too tired to notice these restrictions before I lost consciousness. Then once asleep my body never seemed to have complained for a lack of movement to ever rise to be considered discomfort. Even now, awake and with Catherine above me, the confines of the bed felt cozy and snug.
"Good morning darling."
Catherine cooed as her hand massaging my chest stopped and moved to undo the straps holding me down. She then helped me sit up and lever myself out of the bed's indent, allowing me to swing my hoofs over its edge and onto the ground.
Upon standing up the effects of lying still all night finally caught up with me, but Catherine gave me time, and permission via a nod to stretch out my kinks. At least the ones in my body. I spent the next couple minutes twisting and extending my torso and legs as much as I could. Working movement back into my muscles.
Satisfied, I told Catherine so with a single stomp. She in turn responded with a smile and a lead, clipping to my bit. Exiting my stall, I found Lily waiting for us, her own lead looped into the ring on the stall's wall which Catherine easily undid.
Now with both of us in hand, she began leading us down the centre aisle. With two lines coming out behind her, by Lily's lead, her and I positioned ourselves next to one another several feet behind Catherine, giving ourselves and comfortable about of slack. Neither too close to threaten stepping on Catherine's heels nor too far that a sudden change in direction would bring our lines taut. This would the following distance that would soon become natural.
Once comfortably following, I took note of the lack of Isabella in the stable with us. Vaguely I had hoped to open my eyes to her after she had put me to bed. But I guess that was part of being a ponygirl, someone else was there to choose who woke you up.
Catherine brought us down to the end of the stables and around a corner to a new area I had not yet seen. It was longer than it was wide with a line down the length of three sets of wooden frames. Each a pair of what I thought looked like hurdles, two posts connected at their tops by a third bar across, with one of the hurdles taller than the other. The taller's cross bar raising to about our waist's height and otherwise distinguished from the lower by its bar being padded. The shorter on the other hand reaching only half the height of the former.
These 'hurdlers' were what visually dominated the room, as well as my initial attention. But after a couples moments to take them in, my eyes finally noticed in the surrounding walls. Snaking along every wall were lines of piping and tubing. Splitting and branch to a variety of machines that obviously required the fluids these pipes provided. This evidence of liquid finally drew my attention to the slight slope of the floor. Angled in line with the length of the room, slanting towards the base of one wall and the drain that ran along its base.
Lily and I were each placed in front of our own set of hurdle, the taller one nearest to us. Lily first, followed by me, Catherine then bent us over the cross bar which fit nicely into the pivots of our waists. She lowered our upper bodies down and with the use of our leads, secured us in that position by attaching us quite closely the lower cross bar. My lips only a couple of inches from the wood of the frame. The hair of my ponytail fell down over my face.
Finally, this position was solidified as our legs were spread and our ankles cuffed to the posts of the waist hurdle. We were effectively rendered immobile, and owing to never being particularly flexible, I found it to a rather uncomfortable position.
My thoughts about my body's general discomfort was suddenly replaced by a singular discomfort as Catherine's hands beginning to work at my back entrance. Lathering lube around my hole, interspersed with brief touches of pressure, introducing lube just past my entrance. I tried to crane my neck over to check in with Lily but our relative position and the resistant of the lead denied me this assurance.
Instead it was Catherine who spoke up to reassure me,
"Sorry darling, I know this can be a bit uncomfortable but this how ponygirls are kept clean."
Then, without giving me time to process her words, my back-end was punctured by Catherine inserting a tube into me. Impulsively trying to reject the intruder, I squirmed as much as my bonds would allow.
But before I could do much, I was suddenly filled by the chill of liquid flooding into me from the wrong end. Causing the complete reverse reaction as my body suddenly froze up in tension. All except my insides which felt like they were expanding far past their limits from the pressure of the fluid.
Obviously seeing my distress, Catherine gently patted and caressed my upturned and stretched ass. Cooing affirmations that I was a good and brave ponygirl. Caught up focusing on my internal sensations, Catherine's efforts to calm me seemed to worked with without my conscious mind registering it. Instead calming me down in only the an animalistic sense.
Once I had relaxed to Catherine's satisfaction, by which I had relaxed on the outside, she turned her efforts onto Lily. While I couldn't turn to watch I could hear the same procedure being repeat on Lily, minus any sounds of Lily reacting negatively. Ending with the hydraulic sounds of water being pumped doubling.
This left me to be simply filled by what I now realized was an enema. I had never had one before nor really anything using this hole. The closest I could think of was experimenting with the jet setting of the shower as a teenager. A comparison only really related by my embarrassment of the whole affair.
I tried to focus on other things but my only distractions were that of the concrete floor, curtained by my hair hanging down, and the sounds of water being pumped into Lily and I. The minutes ticked by slowly, until finally the whir of the machines changed and I could feel the water's direction reversing. Finally going in the correct direction, although still with more pressure than I was use to.
The expulsion felt like it took shorter to complete, but it really only got me to the disappointment sooner. As I felt like the last drops of water were leaving me, the sound of the machines and pressure suddenly reversed once more. Again shocking me with the pressure of the fuild being pumped into me.
And so it continued. The cycle repeated several times, pushing and pulling the water into and out of our bodies. These subsequent flushings weren't nearly as surprisingly bad as the first, but they were also no where near comfortable either. Especially in conjunction with the position that Catherine had deemed necessary for the operation.
Bent over, tied down, and forced to be cleaned out. All without Catherine ever asking for my input. The procedure simply being imposed on me by her plans for taking care of a ponygirl. I guessed my pony tack would make it hard for me to go normally but this felt like an extreme solution to that problem. A solution I didn't much care for at all.
After the cleaning had finished, our tubing was removed, which oddly also didn't feel great. I thought finally being free of the intrusion would be a relief but in the moments after it was removed I felt strangely empty. Despite my mind's displeasure at the procedure it seemed in the time it took to be flushed out by body at somewhat adjusted.
As I ponder this, Catherine set about releasing Lily and I from what I now thought of as the enema racks. Once up and standing again, it finally gave me an opportunity to express my discontent towards Catherine for the procedure. Although translated through my pony tack and bit this could only come out as a scowl and disdainful posture.
My first reaction was from Lily who seemed unperturbed by the enema and merely nickered at my expense. Catherine, to her benefit, didn't snicker. Instead her face broke down in sympathy as she cooed,
"Come here."
Before wrapping me in a hug. I initially resisted, holding firm to my rigid and unhappy posture until her contact and warmth broke me and I conceded to act of sympathy. Letting myself soften in reciprocation of her embrace.
After some moments she pulled back and continued,
"You were such a brave pony. It's not the most glamours part of being a ponygirl but it needs to done to keep you clean. And you know what? You did great for a first time. Much less thrashing about than another pony I could mention."
She finished with a sly glance over to Lily whose turn it was to scowl. Returning to me, Catherine underscored her praise with a sugar cube.
Lily and I's morning routine continued on to our 'breakfast' of the nutritional paste again. Delivered in the same manner as last night via the feeding bottle. I already found I was getting use to this intake method and wondered if the same could happen with the enemas. I shivered at the thought.
We finished with a drink of water and a quick wipe down with a damp towel. Then to my surprise, this was where mine and Lily's days' diverged. Her being simply left in the stable while Catherine led me out into the morning sun.
It was quite nice out, the sun having warmed away the cool of the night but not to a degree as to be hot. A few clouds joined the sun in the sky, drifting lazily over the expanse of the Catherine's property as we walked down a path to the fields. Seeing her field in the morning light was something I had missed by sleeping in the morning before. I wondered if it was a sight I would ever see again.
Our pace was leisurely, even with me trying my best to continue pony stepping properly from the day before. A skill I still struggled to do 'proper' as a full walking pace. But the motivation to try came in part of my own internal desire to keep up my attitude as a 'good' ponygirl from the night before, but also because of the crop swaying at Catherine's hip.
We walk along a packed dirt path that abutted the edge of the forest. On the other side of us was the white wooden fencing of the larger paddocks. This create a kind of almost hall whose walls were greenery and fences. Looking down, I saw printed into the dusty dirt the 'U' of previous ponygirl's horseshoes.
We walked along in companionable silence. Catherine about a step in front of me, her arms swinging casual at her sides. The owners end of the lead looped around the wrist nearest to me. As such my line hung quite loosely. Hanging almost straight down from its attachment at my bit while the bottom of its arc back up to Catherine swung rhythmically with our movements.
Its casual swing gave me an oddly pastoral feeling. Hearkening back to the morning pony ride through an English country side. A simple morning ride by an elegant lady through her property astride her trusty steed.
