I have lost count of the number of days and weeks that have passed. My reeducation has continued unabated, and although it has been interspersed with short breaks, the pace has been relentless. The past sessions have progressed somewhat; now that I am somewhat familiar with the basics, the focus has shifted towards discipline, disposition and following orders.
After Anvari coerces me into displaying proper submissive manners, I am typically given a set of simple but indecent, humiliating tasks, each of which has to be performed without hesitation or question. The lengthy, merciless pace of my training sessions makes it impossible to remember everything that has been demanded of me, but one task Anvari seemed particularly fond of was forcing me to present myself to him on my hands and knees. He frequently had to beat me with his riding crop until I could take no more punishment, and reluctantly assumed the posture he wanted. In this case I was expected to spread my legs and arch my lower back to raise my hips and tail, exposing my most intimate parts to him while keeping my head submissively bowed. Once he was satisfied with my posture, I was typically made to affirm my place as a sex slave, and forced to beg to be “fucked”. 
Anvari seems to exhibit great restraint when it comes to carnal desires; only when I applied the right tone and choice of words did he oblige rather than punish. It pains me to report that he has…made me climax countless of times during this period. I must begrudgingly admit he is extremely skilled at pleasuring mares, quickly figuring out exactly what and how a female likes it from her response alone. Needless to say I fought my physical response fiercely, but my induced state of estrus made resisting orgasm a difficult, if not impossible task. Compounding the issue was Anvari’s incredible stamina; although he is not the most well-endowed Caribou I have had the displeasure of seeing, the sheer length of time he can keep going without releasing himself would be impressive under normal circumstances. Even when by some miracle I managed to suppress my traitorous body’s primal urges, he ensured I was given my reward by expertly working my sopping wet sex with his fingers, often pushing me over the edge multiple times with little effort.
The way he caresses my folds and strums my clitoris…by the Sun it is incredible. It disturbs me to admit this, but had me not been a barbaric, perverted slaver I would gladly have invited him to be my lover. But this is the heat, that infernal enchantment influencing my mind. It extremely worrisome how easily the Caribou can twist a female’s perception of this brutal enslavement. This cannot and should not feel as enjoyable as it does. I must keep thinking rationally, and not let their insane rhetoric influence me. However my body might react must be due to the influence of their spells, rather than me somehow taking a liking to this revolting treatment.
From what little I have seen when I’m not undergoing training, the castle’s guards seem as active as ever. As a high-value captive I am escorted to and from my cell under close watch of Orestes’ hand-picked stallions. They seem to be extremely well-organized, never leaving me outside their lustful gazes; thus I am dejected to report that no opportunity of escape has presented itself as of yet. Despite all this, there seems light at the end of the tunnel, however faint it might be.
Every morning, afternoon and evening on my rest days, the same guard enters my cell to feed and water me. It is Iron Lance, a stallion who had formerly been one of my trusted personal guards. I had on occasion caught him discretely eying me up before, but he had always acted in a professional manner and respectfully kept his distance. Not until the Caribou invasion did he show any actual intent of groping or raping me. Although he is clearly no longer the same stallion, I have hope that I might be able to seduce him into aiding in my escape, if not willingly perhaps unwittingly.
Anticipating his arrival this morning, I decided to take my chances and attempt to gain his favor. When he entered I bowed and greeted him like Anvari had taught me, suppressing my disgust at freely performing these demeaning acts. A few moments of awkward silence followed; I could feel his gaze creeping over me, appraising my submission intently, perhaps surprised at my change in disposition. I “respectfully” kept my head bowed, pretending to await his command like a well-trained slave - and to my delight he took the bait.
He praised me for finally embracing my training and seeing the greatness of Caribou culture, saying how happy he was to see that his princess was learning to accept her place. To feign my compliance I turned around and presented myself to him, inviting him to enjoy my body in the sultriest voice I could muster. Acting like this, especially knowing this behavior went along with my trainer’s wishes, felt revolting. Filthy. I somehow managed to suffer the humiliation, knowing it was for a cause. He greedily partook in the proceedings, sliding his member inside me without hesitation. I moaned loudly, pushing my hips backwards onto his erect rod, ostensibly to show I was turning into the slut they want me to become - in reality I was just trying to get it over with as soon as possible.
He took me roughly, acting out his pent-up, perverted fantasies on a mare once far beyond his reach. He pulled my head back by my mane as he mounted me, slapping my rear as he pounded away without restraint, calling me his bitch and slave. I entertained his indulgence by “eagerly” acknowledging his words, coaxing him to rut me harder - and edging him closer to the finish. It wasn’t long before I felt his member throbbing, releasing its seed inside me as he loudly groaned.
As he retracted himself I forced myself to perform something I have never done for any stallion - willingly cleaning his member using my mouth after intercourse. I almost retched from disgust as I smelt the mixture of ejaculate and vaginal fluids, not to mention the musk wafting from his unwashed crotch. But I managed to keep up the facade, lathering my tongue along his shaft and down to his family jewels as his penis retracted into its sheath. He grunted with satisfaction, commending me for “finally realizing that I am just another whore, like any other female”, and that I would soon “crawl around the castle on my own accord, begging any passers-by for cock like a trained slave”.
Little did he know that this was the exact answer I was looking for. If I can somehow convince him I am taking to my reeducation, perhaps they will grant me a measure of freedom, which will in turn open possibilities to send for help. In a strange way, Anvari’s repulsive teachings have proven useful, and I must admit that I used them against his cause with glee, however morally depraved my actions may have been. Although the guard was easily fooled, I suspect that deceiving Anvari himself will be a much more difficult task. Unlike most of his ilk he doesn’t seem to partake in wanton sexual lust and desire, instead preferring to regard sex, or rather as he disturbingly calls it, mating, as a tool, a means to an end. I will need to be careful not to show any obvious change in demeanor, so as not to arouse his suspicions.
My training will soon resume, but this encounter gives me renewed hope that I may yet manage to escape my bonds. I must steel myself and weather the storm until my opportunity arrives.
- Princess Celestia