Chapter Thirteen
Ready
Carol Thompson knelt on the floor of the tiny cell. Her knees hurt from the stone floor. Her feet hurt from the six-inch high-heeled boots on her feet. Her mouth hurt from the metal bit, rubber gag, and bridle harness that kept it in place. Everything hurt.
Carol did not like the idea of becoming a pony, and she had been trying very hard to make this clear to her captors. She had not succeeded in communicating that simple message, and she had failed utterly to let them know of her dislike for the various hardware and implements that had been used on her tired young body for the past few weeks. She had no mirror, but Carol knew that she no longer looked like the beautiful young woman who had emerged from the Beyerischer Hof and Palais Montgelas Hotel on the Promena
