â€School of Hard Knocksâ€ is a new novel by AP Miller that Iâ€™ve just finished editing and publishing. Itâ€™s a fairly strong BDSM story, with the females very much in control â€“ mostly of each other. Hereâ€™s a â€œponygirlâ€ extract that some of you might like: It was some weeks later when Elizabeth decided to go wandering the halls during a free period. She had finished her afternoon history class, and with Tiffany still at her own class, she had time free to herself. And yet she found herself at a loss for something to do. She had been rather reclusive thus far, too intimidated by the nightly ravishments and the daily humiliations to feel her usual confident self. She found herself... yes, she found herself missing Tiffany. No matter what else, Tiffany had proven herself a genuinely caring person. And if her tales were to be believed, Tiffany had been in her own shoes only a few years prior, spreading her legs for that Megan of hers. And what was more, Tiffany was in Equestrianism class. Elizabeth had never been to the stables yet. She found herself hurrying faster down the halls, eager to see the horses. Through the door to the back lawn she went, moving quietly to avoid disturbing Miss Mills and her class of Indian club juggling young ladies. And down the path to the track, where the stables she had not yet seen were located... She paused at the top of the hill overlooking the stables. The girls were all aligned in a row, with the leather-clad manservants moving between. But there were no horses at all, despite the preponderance of leather harnesses. Elizabeth stared in shock, her eyes widening. Surely Tiffany could not... but there she was, third from the end, her massive orbs encased in a leather corset cinched tightly up the back. All the girls wore similar raiment; the sturdy leather providing much needed support for the more heavily endowed girls as they all stood stiffly, quietly. Expectantly. Elizabeth could not look away, watching in horrified fascination. The servants continued to dress the students, tapping their legs. Her jaw dropped as Tiffany and the others lifted their legs obediently, standing on one foot as the men slid on thigh high boots. When both legs had been done, each girl was a good four inches taller. Their gloves slid up to the elbows, and then came the finishing touch. The leather straps slid over their cheeks, their foreheadsâ€¦ an unmistakable replica of a horseâ€™s bridle... complete with a bit between their lips. Gleaming white teeth bit down on the hard rubber gags, eyes wide and glazed, almost desperate. The girl on the hill stared as the final pieces were taken in strong masculine hands. Surely they would not? But they would, and did... long strands hanging from the lubricated anal plugs as they gently, skilfully, impaled an entire class of young ladies through their pert bottoms. As with everything else, their tails had been personalized, and Tiffany herself now sported a lovely brown tail of the same exact shade as the hair on her head. Once the silent servant had finished securing the tail, he reached up to caress her breasts in a comforting, approving gesture. He might have patted a horse in the same manner, and Tiffany shivered and favoured him with a gratefully adoring glance. But Tiffany was a human, and Elizabethâ€™s mind rebelled. This was sick. Perverse. This was... Miss Wright emerged from the stable at last, the riding crop clutched in her gloved hands as she approached slowly. She wore an equestrian outfit, but done in a glistening black material unlike anything Elizabeth had ever seen before. It gleamed in the light, hugging her body like a second skin. Her painted lips curled in a soft, knowing smile, looking out at the girls with such assurance. They gazed back, eager to obey, eager to be commanded. Elizabeth took a deep, shuddering breath as she looked on, trying to suppress the vision of herself doing... much the same. Down the row Miss Wright walked, sliding the tip of her crop over the plump, muscular bottom of the girl on the end of the line. The girl trembled in delight, but subsided as their instructor walked away, moving towards the track that had seemed perfect for horseracing, for regular running. But instead, she waved at the track, her crop slicing an imaginary line along the dirt. A starting line... â€œPonies, to your positions.â€ Miss Wrightâ€™s voice was soft and warm, yet sultry and sensual, at once comforting and seductive, and the pony girls could not resist. They all rushed to the line, standing close together as they waited impatiently for their next command. â€œPonies, trot.â€ And, sure enough, they began to do just that. Elizabeth had already done her share of running. This was not a run. They were clopping along, almost as if jogging, with their knees lifting high as they made their way around the track. She had never seen anyone jog in high heels... and when they came back to the starting point, Miss Wright called out again, commandingly. â€œPonies, gallop.â€ And now they were running, and quickly... and in those same high heeled boots. Elizabeth looked on in shock, suddenly terrified that someone would break an ankle from the impractical footwear. And yet, and yet... they seemed utterly at ease in those shoes, running as easily as another woman might in top of the line athletic cleats. At last, the girls were instructed to halt, and they stood trembling with excitement, eager to show off their skills anew. Throughout the race, the men had been busy setting up low hurdles over the lawn in the centre of that dirt track. Miss Wright walked to the front of that obstacle course, then called out quietly. â€œPonygirl Jennifer, come here.â€ The girl so named clopped forward, eyes wide and lips drooling around her bit, coming to a stop before Miss Wright and those hurdles. â€œPonygirl Jennifer, jump the hurdles.â€ And the girl leaped forward, her legs lifting high as she cleared the first hurdle by inches, and then the next, her small, shapely breasts barely jiggling in her tightly bound corset. When she had finished the course, the instructor directed her back to the end of the line. â€œPonygirl Susan, come here.â€ And so it went along, as Elizabeth watched in fascination. At last, it was Tiffanyâ€™s turn, and Elizabeth looked on, eager to see her friend in action. Tiffanyâ€™s demonstration was truly a marvel to behold. Her first jump was almost a foot above the hurdles, clearing it so deftly as to dismiss any question of the girlâ€™s athletic prowess. And in high heels, to boot! Another jump and another... until at last she allowed herself to be directed to the end of the line as the last few girls took their turn. Miss Wright slowly walked down the line then, heading directly for Elizabethâ€™s roommate with that same sultry smile. She caressed those breasts with a hand gleaming with that black material, and Tiffany quivered joyfully at the attention, her expression happy and content as Miss Wright demonstrated her appreciation of Ponygirl Tiffanyâ€™s performance. Then she turned away to where the manservants were still pulling out the next bit of equine paraphernalia to be bastardized in such a perverse, sexual way. Each carriage was small, with only two wheels directly under the padded benches. The ponygirls allowed themselves to be directed into position as Elizabeth watched secretly. She felt herself gasping for breath now, her heart pounding. Her blouse felt tight, so very tight, her body trembling with her voyeuristic arousal. Tiffany clomped her foot lightly as they chained her wrists to the long poles by her gloves, then gripped those poles firmly. It was Miss Wright herself who sat in her carriage, granting Ponygirl Tiffany the honour as reward for her performance on the hurdles. And then they were off, the girls lifting their knees high as they strode around the track, pulling those chariots along. The manservants sat impassively in their seats, directing the girls as Miss Wright took the lead. The ponygirls moved with such amazing power and grace. Their firm, hard young bodies demonstrating just how far they could be pushed. They had run. They had jumped. And as Elizabeth looked on, a pulsing sensation emanating from her groin, they now pulled a few hundred pounds of wood and flesh along the track... still wearing high heeled boots as easily as another might wear sandals... Elizabeth almost collapsed as the orgasm hit her.