Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get The Blues

The story so far:
(Ch. 13) The posse camp overnight at the beach - the ponygirls are branded - a tragic discovery.
(Ch. 14) Rabbit Island is evacuated - bundled and shipped.

DOUBLE TROUBLE

The math wasn’t difficult. Riccardo calculated that three days at sea at a constant eighteen knots meant that La Isla de la Plata was a thousand miles from Rabbit Island. That four-figure distance made it seem a long way away. On the final morning on board it wasn’t the only cause of Riccardo’s depression.

The night before, their third night at sea, he received an unexpected and truly delicious bonus. Waiting for him in his single-berthed room were the Siamese twins. Throughout the journey Riccardo was often to be found leaning on the top deck’s balustrade staring out to the horizon, a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand. It seemed that Madame Cavallo felt sorry for him, or was it that she felt he was getting too close to Rachel and Mandy, his former charges from Rabbit Island? Whatever the reason for her gift, Riccardo wasn’t complaining.

The Siamese twins were naked, standing side-by-side, backs to the wall. Each was fixed in handcuffs clipped to securing rings high up on the bulkhead. Their ankles were also restrained, slim enough to sport regular handcuffs. Around their delicate necks each wore a thin silver chain threaded with a handcuff key nestled perfectly between their breasts. Those perfect mounds of flesh were conspicuous for being the only part of their bodies that were not skinny. They had been surgically enhanced, that much was obvious, but it didn’t detract from Riccardo’s lustful admiration for the gifts attached to his bedroom wall.

Riccardo cast his eyes slowly up and down their identical bodies on the pretext of looking for any difference between them, but no matter how closely he looked no difference could be found. They were perfect - if you like petite Asian girls with unnaturally large breasts, with smiles that can melt a heart at ten paces.

During his inspection those seductive smiles didn’t desert them for a moment. Riccardo had amused himself with the notion that these twins were not really women at all; they were living sex toys. A few decades from now, when Sony or Honda or whoever produces household robots, this is what some of them will look like... or at least the ones owned by single men. In the future, when women view men as obsolete in terms of reproduction, men with toys like these might view women as obsolete in everything but reproduction. But Riccardo, if he lived that long, would still prefer a real blonde with a real character.

“Who chained you up?” Riccardo asked them, curious to know who else had been in his room.

“We did, Sir. Our Mistress told us to spend the night in your room. That’s if you want us, Sir?” they said with eyes cast downward in what appeared to be genuine humility. They’d done a good job of self-bondage; their hands fixed so high their bare feet could only just stay flat upon the parquet floor. There was no doubting the tightness of the cuffs either. Had a lot of practice, Riccardo suspected.

“It would be impolite to refuse your Mistress’s gift.” Riccardo conceded graciously. The girls giggled, as they habitually did at anything resembling a joke. They’d noticed the way he’d been staring at them for the last couple of days. The Silver Lady was more likely to strike an iceberg than Riccardo was to turf them out of his room.

One of many good things about these slim five-foot-nothing Asian girls is how little space they take up, excepting their breasts jutting out into the small room. If it wasn’t for the pleasant sensation of a building hard-on filling his pants, Riccardo could have happily left them like that as ornaments like erotic walling hangings. But after two days of seasickness and celibacy is wasn’t likely.

He lifted the key chain from around the neck of one of them. It seemed unfair, but he was thinking of taking one of them bed and leaving the other chained to the wall for the night. That was often the problem with having a slave-girl for the night - you want to feel the heady power of having her chained to the wall while you sleep, yet you also want her warm squirming body cuddled up in bed with you. Tonight would be the best of both worlds, Riccardo thought.

He tried to unlock the first set of handcuffs. With his body pressed against the girl’s as he tried to unlock her, she was squirming in pleasure, her handcuffed ankles twisting and tugging against their metal bracelets seeking to relieve the delicious itch between her thighs.

Alas, the simple handcuff lock proved surprisingly stubborn. Riccardo assumed that it was the wrong key; they’d obviously got their keys mixed up. He tried the key in the other twin’s handcuffs. It turned and released as easily as he would expect. Riccardo took that girl’s key chain from around her neck, expecting the key to reciprocate with the other’s handcuffs… It didn’t! However it did fit her ankles’ cuffs.

That left him with one twin left standing chained to the wall and the other free, except that she had to hop around with her ankles cuffed together. “You don’t have any more keys?” Riccardo asked more in hope than expectation. They shook their heads, as disappointed as he was. It was no accident. He was the victim of more game playing, yet this would prove only a mild inconvenience to his night of lust.

“Warm up your sister for me,” Riccardo commanded the free girl as he disappeared into his compact bathroom to undress and brush his teeth. “Lots of tongue!” he added.

When he emerged five minutes later, naked, refreshed and ready for love, the wall-chained twin was well on her way to orgasm, eyes closed, mouth open, her head swishing from side to side in reaction to her sister’s The biggest challenge for the kneeling sister was how to keep her in a heightened state of readiness for their Master’s arrival. Her mouth switched greedily from pussy to penis as soon as Riccardo was within her reach. While the kneeling twin attended to his penis, he pressed his mouth to the standing twin, grabbing her softball-sized breasts. She liked that, just as Riccardo loved what her kneeling sister’s mouth was doing to his cock.

He’d seldom ever moaned out load during foreplay, but this was one of those times. In spite of the immense fellatial pleasure he was receiving he still preferred to climax within the tight folds of a woman’s sex, at least for the first ejaculation of the night. Having to arch his back just to kiss the girl, he realized their height differential needed resolving. The solution was kneeling right in front of him.

“Lie flat on the floor,” he instructed her breathlessly. “Under your sister’s feet.”

With the problem solved, Riccardo rammed his cock into the standing twin. Thanks to her sister’s body beneath her, she was perfectly positioned to enjoy Riccardo’s violent thrusts that brought him to a climax.

Sated, Riccardo crashed out onto the bed instructing the twins to stay as they were. The one lying belly-down on the floor was receiving a spine-cracking foot massage from her sister. Each crack of her spine made him wince yet it was undeniably sexy too. When there were no further cracks to be had he instructed the kneeling one to lick her sister clean, having noticed his cum trickling down her thigh.

The free one (except for her cuffed ankles) stood up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and hopped to a small shelf to retrieve a bottle of wine for Riccardo. The ship was well stocked with the small plastic bottles usually found on airlines. She poured a glass for him.

Snuggling up against him while he sat legs outstretched on the bed, she soon had Riccardo perked up enough to consider another round. So far this evening she’d merely been a service provider for her sister and Riccardo, first with her mouth, then by acting as a human footstool to assist Riccardo and her sister to fuck against the wall. It wasn’t that she was jealous; simply a matter of equality, and now it was her turn! She moved to the foot of the bed crossed her handcuffed ankles and spread her knees to create a wide opening between her legs. Then she lifted Riccardo’s ankles between them. Riccardo sipped his wine as she shuffled up the bed; his legs encircled by hers, her tight pussy moving closer and closer to his cock. It was a mutually delightful ensnarement. She wanted him badly, using every trick to get his cock to the desired size and rigidity. Witnessing the astonishing lust on this sweet girl’s face as he squeezed her breasts brought Riccardo’s cock to prompt attention. Quite assertive for a petite Asian girl, Riccardo observed, perhaps she doesn’t get a real man’s cock very often!.

A MORNING STIFFY

Riccardo awoke from a heavy sleep. His cabin was bright, even though lit only by a small porthole. The twins were gone as he expected they would be, knowing they had breakfast service to attend to. He turned over in bed for a luxurious final five minutes, enough time to savour the memory of previous night’s fun with the twins.

Those sexy thoughts soon brought on the start of a pleasant morning erection. He reached a hand under the duvet towards his cock. It made contact with something harder that he imagined. Hard, like thick plastic. He threw off the light duvet cover; confused and curious.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His semi-flaccid penis was encased in a similarly shaped device made of a clear acrylic. A ring of the same material encircled the root of his cock behind his scrotal sac. The two pieces were joined at the top of his penis with a neat padlock. A few exploratory tugs and twists confirmed his suspicion: It wasn’t a toy. Any kind of erection was impossible. Despite its secure fixing, it was fairly comfortable except for a slight pinching behind his balls. That’s what worried him; it was comfortable enough for long-term use.

Not knowing whether to be laugh or cry, he got up, went to the bathroom and pissed. It was easy enough, and thanks to the various holes in the plastic, sanitary as well. The only thing it prevented was erections.

He pulled on his pants and headed for breakfast, wondering what forfeit he would shortly be performing in order to have the chastity device removed. Perhaps he might be required to give cunnilingus on the captain, he mused rather hopefully.

Madame Cavallo looked up from her fresh fruit salad. Her smile said it all - superior and smug, almost laughing through those thin lips of hers.

“Welcome to your first day in my employment, Riccardo. You might have noticed we have some special rules of our own.”

Riccardo remained nonchalant. He wasn’t going to lower himself to ask or beg for the device’s removal knowing that the padlock would yield to a hacksaw in seconds.

“You’re upset because Rabbit Island insisted you were chained to your bed every night?” Riccardo suggested. The rule affected all female visitor and residents on the island, with absolutely no exceptions.

“Upset doesn’t begin to describe that insult!” She spat out, bitter at the memory of her humiliating bondage. “But to answer your question, no it’s not because of that. It’s our policy. Same applies to Peter and Paul here.”

Peter and Paul looked up sheepishly from their breakfast. Peter gave a resigned shrug. “Rules are rules,” he stated with unarguable logic as he scooped up another spoonful of cornflakes.

ARRIVAL AT LA PLATA

The dramatic yet peculiarly ugly peaks of Isla de la Plata loomed on the horizon whilst Riccardo sat down to breakfast, served by two embarrassed twins who dared not look at him. They even served him at a cautious long arm’s length. He’d figured it out. They must have spiked his wine and fitted the chastity device on him themselves. That’s what you call giving something to remember them by!

Below decks Jessica, Kate, Karen and the three others in steerage hadn’t moved or been fed for three days. The last twenty-four hours had passed by in a half-conscious stupor, interrupted only by the insistent muscle toning sessions of the Electrocizer. Voices from the deck above, and the general busyness of footsteps, caused them to sense that their destination was at hand.

Riccardo leant on the hardwood balustrade and stared at the imposing island getting ever closer. He was surprised to find something so grey and misty on a bright sunny morning in a tropical sea.

“The mist usually burns off by mid-day,” Peter explained. He pointed out the harbour where they were heading - a small assemblage of industrial buildings and loading cranes that looked minuscule compared to the precipitous grey mountains looming behind them.

Jessica and Kate said hurried goodbyes as they heard two pairs of feet heading down the steps into their storeroom. Nearly three days tied belly-down on a bunk with nothing to eat, wasn’t fun but the company was very fine indeed. They’d made new friends and learned a lot about each other, and perhaps too much about La Plata. None of it was good.

While Paul taped up her mouth, Peter removed the clips from Jessica’s fingers and toes. Though the shocks from the Electrocizer were not exactly enjoyable they created a routine to the day, and she had to admit that the treatment really did stimulate the muscles. She was curious to see how she felt when they finally got around to freeing her from the unyielding plastic ties on her wrists and ankles.

Just as Jessica was first into the boat, they were preparing her to be the first out. Jessica remembered how the two men struggled to carry her down the steps into the bowels of Cavallo’s boat and worried about how they would ever manage to lift her out. The answer came from above. Literally.

Peter levered open the small skylight that provided the room’s source of daylight. It was just about wide enough for a man’s shoulders. A monstrous iron hook and winching block descended slowly and silently into the opening. Peter strapped a padded leather band around Jessica’s ankles. It had a couple of heavy iron rings built into it, one in front, and one in back. He slipped the iron hook into the front ring.

Without any apparent signal, the hook rose smoothly and silently upwards, lifting Jessica with it. Peter guided her body through the opening, careful to avoid damaging the living merchandise.

Jessica’s first glimpse of La Plata was like that of most new arrivals - upside down. The crane’s stevedore, who had been standing outside next to the opening (his hand signals guiding the crane’s movements) wished her a sarcastic welcome as she rose up above him and clear of the Silver Lady.

Thirty feet in the air, suspended by her well-secured ankles, Jessica thought this must have been how Houdini felt as he did his notorious escapes, except for her there was no escape.

She was gliding towards a loading bay on the second floor of an old brick-built warehouse, a relic from a different age. The age of mining. A heavily built man was there to grab her as she hung above ledge of the loading bay. She was lifted off the crane's hook but straight onto another one. This one was attached to an overhead rail bolted to the high ceiling. The man pushed against her body, moving her along the rail like a carcass in an abattoir. Still wrapped and taped in a white sheet there was little about Jessica for him to admire. Naked bodies were much more interesting... like those of Mandy and Rachel who were already hanging from the rail when Jessica joined them. As she viewed their red blotchy skin Jessica realized they’d had a far more eventfully couple of days on the boat than she.

The three acknowledged each other as best they could with taped up mouths, until the miserable man turned around and yelled “shut up, bitches!” He was looking out of the loading hatch waiting for the other five items on listed on his clipboard (Jessica’s recent roommates) and didn’t care for the noise of incomprehensible conversation from the tape-gagged consignment.

Mandy was crying, which was not unusual, whilst Rachel was silent though visibly trembling, her long blonde hair trailing forlornly on the floor. Kate arrived next in the room next, looking absolutely terrified. Jessica remembered how Kate hated heights. Dangling upside-down twenty-feet off the ground whilst being transported between a ship and a warehouse, compounded with a journey to an unknown and fearsome future had filled her eyes with a mad panic Jessica had never seen in her friend before.

Though shoulder-to-shoulder there was no comfort to give each other either physically or emotionally. Despite Amy’s earlier attempts to explain what would happen to them, it still felt like their world was about to end. For Jessica the feeling of being an animal in an abattoir persisted. If men wearing heavily bloodstained white coats entered the room she would not have been in the least surprised.

Next to arrive from the ship was the instantly recognisable bald head of Karen Galtz followed by La Plata’s returning ponygirls, Amy, Terri and Shona. The warehouseman inspected the inventory one by one, his bulging crotch at the same level as their taped-up mouths. With his inventory complete and in good order the man pulled up the standing flap of the loading door, cutting them off from the outside world. He left the room muttering something about ‘lunch-time’.

***

More than an hour elapsed before anyone attended to the eight silent upside-down figures swaying gently on the rail. The only sound to be heard was their heavy nasal breathing.

Finally somebody arrived. It was Madame Cavallo and two assistants. They were in jovial mood, and appeared well fed and refreshed.

Amy, Terri and Shona were dispatched to their stables. One of the assistants pulled them along the overhead rail system, and one by one, with a motor whirring loudly, they disappeared out of a loading door.

“These are the five bunnies loaned to us while Rabbit Island is closed.” Cavallo explained to her assistants. “Of course we have to return them when Rabbit Island reopens, though I seriously doubt it will happen for quite a while, perhaps not ever!”

Her snippet of information was aimed as much at the five bunnies as it was her sidekicks. Cavallo didn’t seem particularly sad at the thought of Rabbit Island’s demise, but Jessica did.

“You! Stop snivelling!” Cavallo shouted at Mandy, who was bringing attention to herself with her constant sobs. Cavallo consulted a clipboard and announced the respective fates awaiting her guests.

“These two,” she announced, pointing to Rachel and Kate, “are going to the Breeding unit.”

“The cry baby and baldy,” she said, referring to Mandy and Karen Galtz, “will be put to work in the Domestic unit.”

“And finally, having suffered a careless loss of a ponygirl on Rabbit Island, which was entirely due to their negligence, we have this one as a replacement. She’s not up to the standard of our own ponygirls but she’ll do.”

Jessica mmmphed at them from behind her taped mouth, angry at Cavallo’s low opinion of her, as well as the blatant lie concerning the cause of the ponygirl’s death.

“She’s a brunette,” one of the assistants said, pointing out the patently obvious. “We can’t have a dark tail with the blonde ponygirls.”

The other assistant agreed. It was, after all, Cavallo’s ruling that the ponygirl teams should be strictly segregated by race and hair colour. She looked at Rachel’s long blonde hair, notable for being the only one of the five upside-down captives whose hair reached all the way to the floor.

“Perhaps this one would be kind enough to donate hers?” she suggested with a smug grin, bunching Rachel’s loose hair in her hand and pulling upwards until she had tilted Rachel’s head. “Get the scissors, Brenda!”

It must have been Jessica’s upside-down viewpoint, but until then she thought Brenda, with her short blonde hair, her overweight frame stuffed into denim dungarees and white tee-sheet, was a man. The other assistant, though similarly attired, at least had the approximate shape of a woman.

Brenda promptly obliged Cavallo’s request, pulling a large pair scissors from one of her many pockets. She knelt down and started crudely cutting away at Rachel’s glorious blonde locks. It’s easy task when your client is hanging upside-down, and barely half a minute later Rachel’s crude haircut was complete. Brenda knotted the eighteen-inch hank of hair and handed it to her boss.

“Thank you Brenda,” Cavallo said, swishing the hair across Rachel’s tape-gagged face, tickling her nostrils in giving her a chance to say a final goodbye to her crowning glory.

Then it was Jessica’s turn. Brenda knelt down, bunched Jessica’s hair in her fist and pulled down hard, as if trying to yank the hair from Jessica’s scalp. Jessica whimpered as she felt the tension gradually ease as her hair was cut off.

Brenda showed Cavallo the hank of Jessica’s hair in her fist, unsure whether it was long enough to make a good ponytail. They reluctantly admitted it was better than nothing. After all she wouldn’t be joining the blonde team until she’d completed her trials.

Kate was not so fortunate. Her blonde hair, being rather fine and barely shoulder length was discarded onto the floor, to be swept up and thown out with the garbage. Neither did Mandy’s hair make the grade. Cavallo detected her visitors were a little upset with their new hairstyles. The fifth, Karen Galtz, having had her head shaved on Rabbit Island a few days previously seemed unperturbed; glad that she would not look so conspicuous from now on.

The scissors were immediately back in use, this time Brenda was cutting through the tape and white sheets which had cocooned Jessica, Kate and Karen for the last three days. Jessica was sorry to see her travelling outfit cut from her. Helpless and covered seemed less vulnerable than helpless and naked. Cavallo screwed up her nose as the unpleasant odor coming from the unwrapped bodies.

“What about their catheter tubes?” Brenda asked. Her scissors were poised to cut the tape encircling Jessica’s left thigh which held the tube in place. She took a few moments to run her fingers up and down the inside of Jessica’s legs, whilst waiting for Cavallo’s answer.

The lean well-defined quadriceps of Jessica’s thighs did not escape Brenda’s notice and admiration; nor did the eight rings pierced through Jessica’s thick and inviting labia.

“Leave the tubes in. It won’t hurt them for a couple more hours.” Cavallo answered, not that it would worry her if it did.

A machine whirred to life, the wire on the overhead rail went taut, and with a sudden jolt Karen and Mandy were gliding out of the room, their bodies swung slightly in recoil, heading towards their new lives of domestic servitude.

Kate and Rachel were also despatched along a rail which disappeared through a door in a different direction. They would soon be installed in the Breeding Unit.

Only Jessica remained; alone with Madame Cavallo. It was almost as if the woman had planned it that way. Yes, there was butch Brenda and her mean-spirited junior, but they seemed to disappear into the walls, as Cavallo confronted Jessica from two yards away. Her eyes were level with Jessica’s sex, but she much preferred looking down towards Jessica’s upside-down face.

“How do you like my island so far?” Cavallo enquired with a sneer. Jessica’s mouth was still taped, so she shook her head, closing her eyes as she breathed rapidly through her slightly blocked nose.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Cavallo said with obvious pleasure. “Is it because you’ve nobody to protect you now?”

Jessica hung motionless, not moving her head nor opening her eyes. Cavallo was content to continue her monologue.

“All you have to do is be a good hard-working pony. Stay out of trouble, and you and I will get along fine. You can forget about dressing up for fancy evenings in a ballroom, like on Rabbit Island. Here we treat ponies like ponies. It’s simpler that way. Don’t you agree? We won’t confuse your poor little ponygirl brain, like Master Alex did. He’s a wicked man you know, playing with your emotions in the way he did.”

Jessica wondered if Cavallo was right. How foolish it was to have an emotional attachment to a man who had enslaved her! Cavallo had upset her but she reined in her emotions. She promised herself she would cry later that night, when the lights were out and everybody was sleeping.

Cavallo’s pause indicated she’d said what she wanted to say. It was the most she’d said to a ponygirl for a long time! “I could stay and talk to you all day, but we’ve both so much to do, you and me. It’s time for you to join our stables, but not before our staff carry out a few necessary modifications. Bye-bye Jessica!”

Cavallo nodded towards butch Brenda who was stood by a wall-mounted control panel. On Cavallo’s command she pressed a big green safety button. The overhead rail juddered, causing Jessica’s upside-down body to swing as she was sent on her way. Cavallo immediately turned her back, leaving the dispatch room even before Jessica had reached her own exit point.

Suddenly Jessica emerged into bright sunlight, suspended ten metres off the ground by a wire that led towards a dark shadowy hole in an adjacent building. It was an old brick-built warehouse similar the one she had just exited. About half-way across, Jessica heard a noise, a distinctive clatter of hooves coming from below her. Passing directly beneath her along a paved road was a ponygirl foursome pulling a trailer laden with large boxes. Jessica strained for a final look at the two-by-two arrangement of ponygirls as she entered the dark hole of her next destination. Perhaps that’s my fate too, she thought desparingly, just an anonymous rubber-helmeted ponygirl spending each day hauling stuff around an unfriendly island!

DENTAL WORK

Jessica’s overhead cable soon brought her into a brightly-lit white-tiled toom. It was a disturbing hybrid, part operating theatre part torture chamber. A man and woman were laughing at a shared joke as Jessica glided up to them.

Having not quite recovered from whatever it was they found so funny, they unhooked their latest arrival from her overhead wire. Between the two of them they carried her to a reclining examination chair. As Jessica sat with her hands still fixed behind her back the nurse fastened a heavy leather strap across her chest, holding her perspiring skin firmly against the leather padding of the chair.

Her bound legs were resting between two gyno stirrups, so Jessica knew that the plastic ties which had connected her ankles for the last three days would soon be removed. The doctor, or so the man appeared to be in his white smock, used a curved-edge wire cutters to snip easily through the plastic around her ankles. How annoying that something as flimsy as those plastic ties could contain her so absolutely! He placed her lifeless legs in the stirrups, pulling leathers straps around each ankle.

Jessica’s dark eyes flitted between the doctor and the nurse looking for some kind of communication. They didn’t return her gaze, but nor did they avoid looking at her. She was of no importance to them; they had work to do - and her body was it. The doctor and the nurse divided their tasks, she attending to the top half, and he to Jessica’s lower half. How appropriate, Jessica thought cynically.

A high pitched buzz filled the air behind Jessica’s head. At first she thought it sounded like a vibrator, but it was the nurse holding it, not the doctor. The nurse ran the electric hair clippers over Jessica’s scalp as if she were a new army recruit. A minute later Jessica’s hair was everywhere but on her scalp. Scattered clippings of Jessica’s dark hair rested lightly tickling on her breasts.

Meanwhile the doctor attended to her catheter, lubricating and cleaning the moist area between Jessica’s labia in preparation for its removal. He syringed the small amount of water from the retaining bulb then gently... very slowly... began pulling it from her bladder. Jessica cried into her taped gag, but the nurse’s hands held her head steady. Jessica sighed with genuine relief, almost gratitude, as the tube came free.

The doctor lobbed the tube in a wastebin, discarding his latex gloves with it. He looked up at Jessica’s bald head and smiled at his nurse, complementing her on a good job. The nurse ran her palms and fingertips over Jessica’s scalp, almost like a shiatsu massage. She liked the feel of a freshly shorn scalp, feeling the tiny prickles of hair on her fingertips, mingled with the fresh indignity of her unwilling customer.

The doctor regloved and watched as the nurse carefully ran a razor over Jessica’s scalp. He cast a mock-sympathetic glance at his patient. He smiled. Jessica didn’t know it, but the smile carried a degree of admiration. Some women looked ugly with their head shaved, but Jessica, with shapely eyebrows and passionate dark eyes still looked quite sexy, the doctor thought.

Jessica watched the doctor warily as her shaving continued. He held pliers, more like bolt cutters, in one hand while his other hand rested near her pussy. He grimaced slightly each time he squeezed the pliers. One by one he clipped off and removed Jessica’s labia rings, placing them carefully in a small bowl. They were gold, he informed his nurse. He’d melt them down later that evening.

The nurse spotted the doctor’s expression. “Are you gonna give it to her?” she asked coyly, whilst rubbing a lotion into Jessica’s scalp.

The doctor’s gaze was fixed on Jessica’s invitingly open sex. “Yes, I think I will. It would be a shame to pass up the opportunity. As his finger tips brushed her inner thighs he noticed an unvoluntary squirming from his tightly restrained patient. Whether it was fear or arousal on Jessica’s part, the effect was the same for the doctor, his erect penis straining in his pants just inches away from its ultimate goal.

The nurse leaned forward to place her hands onto Jessica’s breasts, causing her own breasts to press against Jessica’s head. She fingered Jessica’s nipple rings, while the doctor dropped his pants. Jessica’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating as she realized what was coming.

“You look like you’ve never seen a penis before!” the doctor joked as he pressed his erect member against her. “Enjoy it baby, this’ll be the last cock inside you for a long while!” After watching him don and discard two pairs of latex gloves it came as no surprise to Jessica that he should sheath his cock in a condom.

He pushed easily into her. Jessica’s inclined chair proving as suitable for sex as it was for medical procedures. The tape gag on Jessica’s face barely stifled her moans as the man fucked her. The nurse leant over, her smock pressing against Jessica’s bald scalp as she massaged her breasts, giggling all the while. All Jessica could do was take comfort from her rapist doctor’s comment that it would be her last fuck for a while.

PONY DENTAL WORK

All Jessica could remember was the nurse placing a gas mask over her face, like the one time when she had dental work as a child. When she came to, her mouth was numb and swollen, the pain was barely repressed by the remains of the anathesthetic.

The doctor seemed happy as he cleared away his implements. Putting a patient under and removing two back teeth needed effort and concentration. He’d done it before, many times, but never took the operation lightly. Bonding the steel bit across the mouth, where the teeth had been, was a simple procedure, though the double piercing of Jessica’s tongue had been messy.

A human tongue was a remarkably good healer, so he wasn’t overly concerned about a bit of swelling and bruising. With a screw-threaded protrusion rising up through the center of her tongue, Jessica’s mouth and its tongue-bit would be ready for use in a few days, though on La Plata they seldom worried about healing times.

At least her labial didn’t require any modification. The two central piercings were mature and well situated in her flesh. The doctor pulled and stretched out her flaps of flesh between his finger and pushed the U-shaped staple of a padlock through one labia and then the other. The padlock closed with a firm click. Jessica groggily looked down to see what had caused the coolness against her tender flesh. Compared to the pain in her mouth, her locked-up pussy didn’t worry her. It had been a long time since she had thought of it as her own.

Jessica’s feet were fixed together with the familiar hoisting straps. The doctor and nurse wheeled her chair towards the overhead pulley system which had earlier delivered her to them. The doctor heaved on a pulley and Jessica’s feet lifted high into the air until she was dangling upside-down yet again, but this was to be her final journey.

Her new home and her new ponygirl life were waiting at the end of the line.

THE STABLES

On this final cableway journey, Jessica didn’t even notice the teams of ponygirls passing twenty feet beneath her, dutifully pulling their laden wagons across time worn cobble stones. Nor did she notice the long low shed with its corrugated plastic roof. This crude building, almost a hundred metres in length, was to be her new home. She gradually descending into that building, gliding into a narrow vertical slit in the clapboard wall barely the height and width of her suspended body.

Two men were there to greet her. All she could see was their hairy legs right in front of her nose. Stall 42, they agreed was her destination. With a jolting movement the owners of those hairy legs, hauled her onto another overhead pulley. This one ran the length of the building. Jessica glided past identical stalls. Each had a low single bed and an equal width of floor space beside it. Looking down at the floor just a foot below her shaven head so saw the stall numbers painted in large numerals onto the concrete. she passed smoothly over them counting down 45,44,43 and 42. She stopped with a jolt, causing her body to sway like a pendulum until she settled. In front of her was her new home, a prison cell but for the lack of a front wall.

One man hugged her dangling body lifting her an inch or two so the other man could pull her ankle cuffs free of the cableway’s hook. They dropped her face-down onto the bed with no more care than a sack of potatoes was entitled to. Not that Jessica minded. Still weak and drowsy from the anaesthetic she had ceased caring about anything. With her head laying on a thin pillow Jessica was sure that sleep would claim her in seconds.

She heard a ‘clip-clip’, then her hands fell like dead weights onto the mattress, free of the plasticuffs that had secured them for three days. “Sit up!” one of the men said. Reluctantly, with weak aching arms she did as she was told, sitting on the side of the bed watching a man fix a long chain to the wall on the side away from the bed. Holding the loose end of the chain and a small padlock, he indicated with a brief touch that she should open her knees for him. He clipped the chain to the padlock in her labia.

“Go to sleep. We’ll bring you some food in an hour or two,” one of the men said. Then, just as he walked away, “My name’s Jack, but you must call me Sir.”

Jessica nodded to show she understood, but Jack had already gone. She noticed a folded freshly laundered cotton sheet laying on the bed. She unfolded it, laid down and covered herself. She was asleep in seconds.

Jessica wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep. The building was illuminated by daylight coming through the semi-opaque panels of roof. At first she thought it was morning, but the general noise around her sounded like arrivals, not departures. She sat up in bed, leaning against the brick wall, hugging her knees. A ponygirl walked past. Then another one went by a few minutes later. Jessica thought it strange that they should be unaccompanied and walking purposefully past without so much as a sideways glance in her direction. Then, when the third one walked past, she saw the reason: The cableway, which had carried her into this building, was also used to guide the ponygirls. A chain leash between it and the ponygirl’s collar connected them to it. No wonder they walked with such purpose! It they stopped or slowed down they would fall and choke.

Jack was as good as his word, returning with a tray of food, and answered Jessica’s question of how long she’d slept - ‘an hour or two’, the time he said he’d be gone for. It eased her disorientation a little, knowing that it was the same day. She hoped a night of unbroken rest still lay ahead of her.

He placed the tray on the floor. “You’re allowed to use your hands,” he informed her, making it sound like a special privilege. Jessica said ‘thank you, Sir’, or rather she tried to, but her pierced and bruised tongue couldn’t form the ‘th’ sound. It came out a rasping ‘hank koo her.’ Jack gave her sympathetic, slightly condescending, look and walked off.

She knelt down on the floor beside the bowls, constantly aware of the heavy chain attached to her labia. She acquired a habit of holding the chain at a point a foot away from her sex in order to relieve its weight, horrified at the thought of what might happen should she absentmindedly forget about it. At five-feet in length the chain was designed to give her the run of her stall but nothing more. It also asked the question: As the only restraint that kept her in the cell would she be prepared to rip her most tender flesh for a futile escape bid? The answer was no. At least for the moment.

After three days without solid food, Jessica’s empty stomach heaved upon sight of the two bowls. She was at once drawn to yet repulsed by the contents. The toxic green colour of the mush in one bowl didn’t help. She ate the stuff with her fingers. It was plain boiled vegetables, peas, cabbage, broccoli, courgettes and such. It wasn’t bad, and Jessica figured it was designed as a safe reintroduction to solid food.

The other bowl contained what looked like dog biscuits; thick ovals in a rainbow of colours. A closer inspection revealed the brand name deeply impressed into them. It was a poignant taste of home. Her father’s black labrador, many years dead now, loved these biscuits. Jessica picked up a red one together with the large paper cup which, with its plastic straw and lid, reminded her of something from a fast food restaurant.

She resumed her position on the bed taking the water and a biscuit with her. She sucked the cool water through a straw, idly meditating on the biscuit, until it could not be seen through her tear-filled eyes. The sudden memory of home triggered the deep sobbing that she had been promising herself all day.

After five minutes giving vent to her pent-up emotions her mind cleared, like air after a rainstorm. At last she felt awake enough to attempt to make sense of her predicament. She placed a finger into her mouth, trying to ascertain exactly what they had done. Her fingertip felt a screwed thread of steel rising up through her tongue. Further probing revealed that her lower back teeth had been removed and a steel bridge bonded between them. It was a miracle that she was able to eat anything, yet in providing her with food they clearly expected that should would be able.

In a subconscious gesture she ran her fingers through her hair, forgetting that it had been shaved off. It would not truly register until she could see herself. With absurd optimism she looked up at the walls, hoping there would be a mirror. Like most other women Jessica felt her identity was closely allied to her physical appearance. She was desperate to know who she was, what she had become. Had she been able to look into a mirror she would have seen that the ugly bruising on her cheeks from the dental work was far more alarming than her bald head.

The evening passed, punctuated by more of her new stablemates returning home. They and the male stable hands strode past her narrow view of the corridor with barely a glance in her direction. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or disturbed that her appearance was not deemed worthy of a second glance.

Unlike the liberal regime within Rabbit Island’s pony quarters, there was laughter here, only the occasionally sighs or quiet groans. The sound of subdued ponygirls and handlers going about their business.

Later that evening when the daylight had been replaced by gloom the familiar outline of Jack appeared in the corridor in front of Jessica’s stall. She was already in bed curled up under the sheet, her left hand gripping her labia chain. It held her, but it was also something to hold on to.

“Give me your hands,” Jack instructed.

Jessica did as she was told, fully compliant as he fastened her wrists inot handcuffs which were connected by a chain to the top of the iron bed-frame.

“In future, when you are ready to sleep you can fix the cuffs on yourself, you don’t need to wait for me.” He explained helpfully.

Her hands, although cuffed and chained could assume their normal prayerful position just as she always slept on Rabbit Island. She drifted off to sleep with one consolation. Tomorrow she would be a ponygirl again.