Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get The Blues

Chapter 25. The High-Tech Cell

(Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get the Blues, by Aurelius)

The story so far:

(Ch. 21) Jessica's Operation

(Ch. 22) The dungeon. Jessica faces the Guillotine.

(Ch. 23) On board the Slave to Fortune.

(Ch. 24) The Slave to Fortune lands at Rabbit Island. Jessica in the cellblock.

Jessica had been kneeling on the colourful woven mat for half an hour. Meditating, wondering where her life was going. Feeling guilty about how long it was since she thought about home in New York, her parents, her career and friends. Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a recorded voice.

"Welcome to Rabbit Island, one of the world's premier slave islands."

The voice was of a young woman sounding like a tour guide. Jessica looked to the side of the cell door and saw a flat screen television had come to life with pretty woman with short blonde hair. At first Jessica didn't recognise pussygirl Lucy. Then it all made sense. Lucy had been a promising television news journalist before her abduction and sale to Rabbit Island. It seemed that captivity hadn't ended her media career after all.

The studio set was a cell - the mirror image of Jessica's. Lucy wore nothing but a leather collar and, to judge by the way her hands were hidden behind her, she was fixed into bunny chains too. Jessica was sorry to see that Lucy had lost her cascading blonde tresses, then Lucy turned to show her hair had been plaited and pinned to the back of her head. Any new prisoner with long hair would get the same pinned-up style, purely to reduce the maintenance of long hair. Jessica, with her centimetre hair length, had no need of such treatment.

"You have been brought here to participate in this island's lifestyle, and although you did not choose to come, you were chosen, because of your sexual preferences as well as your good looks. You are in a place that understands those god-given urges you have to be forced, dominated, controlled, restrained, punished and humiliated. Here, with or without your consent, you will explore the full depths of your desires. You will go to places that you thought only possible in your most shameful and masochistic fantasies."

It was a fair assessment, Jessica thought. They might not have been Lucy's words but she delivered them as if she knew well of what she spoke.

The picture changed to moving aerial images of the island shot from a low-flying helicopter. Jessica was fascinated at seeing her island home from the air, just as any resident in any neighbourhood would be. It didn't surprise her how beautiful it looked, an oval-shaped oasis of lush green, trimmed with white sand and surrounded by a turquoise sea.

Lucy continued her commentary. "This complex of buildings is called The Lodge, the island's headquarters. It's where you are now, in the narrow block on the left. There are thirty guest rooms, plus offices, activity rooms and a main hall. Adjoining the cell-block in the large square building is the building where the ponygirls live..."

"And where I should be now!" Jessica barked at the video screen.

"We have three bunny cabins located around the island, each on a beautiful stretch of sandy beach. This is where most of the slaves live. Once you have passed the induction examinations, you will be released into one of these camps, and will live there until you are required back at the Lodge. You'll wear the same chains that you and I are wearing now."

"This is the Orchard, which is what we call the group of buildings in the middle of the cultivated heart of the island. We grow most of our own food, and are self-sufficient in electricity due to the solar panels and slave-powered generators which orchard slaves may have to power on static bicycles on busy evenings."

"All parts of the island are linked by narrow trails. We use environment-friendly ponygirls for all our transportation needs. There go two of them now."

This shot was taken from the side of a trail and showed two ponygirls approaching at a trot. Because of the foreshortened camera angle they didn't appear to be going fast, then suddenly they reached the camera, which swung around rapidly to record them running into the distance, driver and trailer in tow.

Jessica watched this sequence intently. "My god. It's me!" she whispered with muted excitement, "and Debbie," she added with a glimmer of sadness, still not aware of her pony pair's fate.

Lucy appeared on the screen again. "Now let's take a quick tour of your cell. Your first order is that you should stay quiet. Noise will not be tolerated. See the ballgag and shackles hanging on a hook there? That's to remind you. You'll find yourself wearing them if you cause a disturbance."

Jessica looked warily at the red ball and its array of straps hanging decoratively on her cell wall. Next to the gag was a set of ankle shackles. They seemed to be taunting her.

"And if you're ball-gagged you can't eat! This brings me neatly to my next topic. Notice the two protruding tubes mounted on the wall? That's your feeding station. All you do in kneel down in front of them, and take them into your mouth until your chin and nose touch the sensors. That's when the food and water will be fed to you."

Protruding tubes? More like narrow, semi-erect penises, Jessica thought. The one for water was two inches long so would spray directly into the mouth. The food penis was much longer, measuring close to eight inches. Whatever this liquid food was, Jessica realized she wouldn't taste it. She was thirsty and eager to try the water, but Lucy's introductory talk continued:

"And alongside the feeding station is your toilet, the very latest innovation in female sanitary design. Kneel astride it allowing your weight to rest fully on it." Lucy demonstrated, sitting on the narrow curve of the stainless steel toilet until her sex was fully sealed within the banana shaped bowl. "And when you're done simply click the button on the wall with the sole of your foot... but stay seated! First, you'll be sprayed, then brushed, then hot air dried and finally perfumed. You'll find it's really very pleasant."

It had to be better than squatting over a hole, Jessica thought. The ponygirl quarters, and other slave areas were equipped only with floor level squatting toilets.

"If you've been wondering what that oval hole in the wall is... it's a face washer. Kneel down and push your face into the hole, resting your chin fully on the bottom ledge. There's a flexible tube protruding from the middle that you must take between your teeth, like sucking on a straw. Once the machine starts you'll be sprayed with warm water, and the tube will squirt an amount of mouthwash. You must swill it and spit it out while the cleaning progresses. Your face will be dried by warm air after the wash cycle...

"The final feature of your cell is called the slut-saddle . You kneel in the saddle, nice and gently so this little dildo slips inside you. What could be nicer? Don't try using it yet or you'll receive a nasty electric shock. You're only allowed to sit on it at certain times. I'll see you later for exercises and to introduce your evening entertainment. Bye for now!"

"Bye-ee!" Jessica responded sarcastically in the same cheery tone, and then muttered, "They could at least provide knee pads for all this kneeling we have to do!"

She looked warily at the invitingly knobbly penis pointing skyward from the centre of the slut saddle, despising it, yet knowing what pleasure and comfort such a thing could give her. The cell had everything a prisoner needed to survive, and that's what worried her.

She knelt in front of the water penis and put her lips around it. The T-bar protrusion rising up through her tongue blocked off her palate, so she tucked it into her cheek like a hamster. As this tube was only two inches long, her nose and chin easily touched their respective sensors and Jessica was instantly rewarded with a steady trickle of cool water. The flow continued as long as she pressed her nose and chin against the wall sensors. She stared forlornly at the food penis knowing that the hated tongue-bar would not permit the tube to reach into her throat. She would have to stay hungry.

The rest of her new toys could wait. Her thirst quenched, Jessica lay on her bed and slept.

EXERCISES

"In two minutes I'll be leading your afternoon exercises!"

Jessica woke with a start, disorientated by her surroundings, having been woken in a deep phase of sleep.

It was Lucy on the flat screen again. Jessica sat up, and slowly stood, her eyes still half-closed as she tried to get her bearings. It was the ideal time to try out the face washer; a splash of water on her face would surely do the trick. The unit functioned just as Lucy had described, leaving her face and mouth feeling clean and fresh.

Lucy was still in the buff except for her bunny chains, leading by example. "Now, stand in the middle of the floor and mirror my movements. First thing we have to do is roll the shoulders. Your arms are probably aching if you aren't used to bunny chains, but these exercises will help. Just keep rolling your shoulders. Now, legs straight and bend down to touch your toes."

"With what?" Jessica griped, but she diligently followed along Lucy's exercise program. She felt better for doing so. It wasn't so different from the routine she remembered from the bunny cabin, which they had devised themselves.

Then Lucy moved on to what she called ponygirl stretches , a routine based on the warm-up and stretching routine that Rabbit Island ponygirls always performed. It emphasised trunk, hips, thighs, and calves. Watching a pussygirl do this routine made Jessica laugh.

The exercise session ended after half an hour, with the screen going dark again. Jessica sat yoga-style on her rug trying to meditate, in the hope that it might relieve the boredom.

Somehow time passed and darkness fell. A light came on automatically, more for the closed-circuit camera's benefit than hers. Jessica was hungry, enough to attempt the feeding device, but it was impossible to get the plastic tube past the metalwork in her mouth. She looked up at the camera pointing down at her from the top corner of the cell. "I'm hungry," she said meekly, hoping that somebody was watching. Her plea was not answered.

There was a commotion outside the cell door. A young woman was struggling so hard that someone fell against her door as they passed. Jessica jumped at the sudden noise. The previous few hours had been as quiet as a monastery.

"Bastards. You fucking bastards!" The young woman shouted.

Jessica didn't recognise the voice, nor did she know who would waste her effort on such a futile struggle. The cell door slammed. Moments later there was more commotion as the woman banged her heels against her door.

"Fucking bastards! You can't keep me here like this!"

"Yes they can," said Jessica under her breath. It felt good to have a neighbour in the next cell, even a noisy one.

"You could at least take off these handcuffs!" The new prisoner shouted, her heel repeatedly banging against the door. Jessica admired her spirit, remembering how she used to be like that before the unrelenting regime of punishments and privileges put an end to such notions.

"And this collar! I'm not a dog, you know!"

"No, but like it or not, you are a bunny." Jessica chuckled.

The complaining turned to begging. "Ohhh! Please guys. My arms are really aching now. I promise I'll be a good prisoner if you unlock me!"

When Jessica heard the neighbour's cell door open, she thought for a brief moment that the new girl had her wish. She should have known better. The two handlers who placed her in the cell minutes earlier had returned with their own ideas on how to stop the disturbance.

"No, please, no!" was the last thing Jessica heard before the ball-gag was lodged between her neighbour's teeth. Ankle shackles followed - closing around one ankle, then pulled back over her handcuffs and attached it to her other ankle. The men departed leaving her in a chained hog-tie, crying with self-pity on her small rug.

Although she couldn't see what was happening, Jessica could easily imagine the scene in the next cell. "Welcome to Rabbit Island!" she said, loud enough that the girl might hear.

Jessica paced the cell, thinking about her new neighbour, wondering whether she was getting herself worked up. With a little pressure on the right spot, (a crotch rope was ideal), and a little leverage to move her body, Jessica could easily bring herself to orgasm when she was hog-tied. She recalled the night when she was hog-tied and gagged on Master Alex's bedroom floor. He had another woman in his bed that night, and while he was making love to the woman, she rocked herself to an orgasm - and a noisy one at that - moments before Alex and the woman came. Jessica had always been an aural rather than a visual person, and the sounds of a man and a woman making love always excited her, not that she was in a position to explain that to Master Alex. He got out of the bed to pet her knowing that most women like a little caressing after they cum. "A hog-tie whore" he called her, compounding Jessica's embarrassment, then added "yep, I like that in a woman."

Jessica never forgot that incident or Master Alex's comment, and nor did he allow her to. Jessica found herself getting aroused while thinking back to that time and others with Master Alex, and the way he teased her in mind and body. Her ringed nipples were growing of their own accord, as if in search of a man to touch them, while her sex became increasingly moist and needy. She lay back on her bed and curled up facing the wall. Her chained hands vainly tried to reach over her hip, hoping for just the mere touch of a finger onto her clitoris. She gave up and settled for sweet dreams instead.

The screen came to life again, with the ubiquitous Lucy introducing the evening program. Jessica could hardly believe the luxury. She was watching television in bed!

Pussygirl Lucy gave instructions and an unnecessary but cute demonstration on how to use the slut-saddle . After a brief pause the evening's movie started. It was, quite simply, a porn movie; one featuring many familiar places and faces from Rabbit Island and scenes from elsewhere, places Jessica didn't recognise. Kate appeared in a scene, then Rachel, and Lucy too, looking like a pre-Raphaelite porn star with her long blonde ringlets. Jessica lasted only five minutes in bed, becoming warmer, and increasingly agitated. She sat up in bed, twisted her hands to her side but still her fingertips were agonizingly short of her needy pussy. She began to wonder if preventing such behaviour was the main purpose of her bunny chains, with the security aspect merely the secondary effect. She knew that relief could only come via the slut saddle.

Jessica rose angrily from her bed, annoyed at having been forcibly aroused by the erotic images of the movie. She knelt down over the saddle's thick and deeply ridged phallus and slowly sank down on it until it stretched and filled her. For the next half-hour she bounced up and down on it, grinding her hips to create different movements as scenes of sexual torment and fulfillment flashed by. The slut-saddle was well named, she conceded as she crawled exhausted into her bed.

***

It was the sunlight, rather than any noise, that woke Jessica the following morning. Her arms ached and she cursed having to sleep with her hands locked behind her. Being chained together and to the top of the bed, ponygirl-style, was far preferable.

After extracting a long drink from the water tube, she gazed hungrily at the long feeding tube and thought how wonderful it would feel in her throat. She sat astride the high-tech steel toilet, gingerly allowing her weight to rest fully on it, her inner thighs pressed down on it, creating an effective join of skin and steel. Its reassuring coolness soon encouraged her to urinate and defecate.

Still seated, Jessica gulped nervously, closed her eyes, and then pushed her foot against the large push-button on the wall. The fine jets of water came up at her vagina and anus like a multitude of ice-cold pinpricks.

While the jets continued, a whining sound came as the rotary brushes started. She felt it burrowing deep within her crack and against her anus, brisk, insistent yet never harsh, leaving her with no doubt as to its efficiency.

The warm air dryer was altogether gentler, causing Jessica to go wide-eyed at the surprising pleasure.

A loud hiss beneath her and a mild stinging sensation to her labia signalled that she had been perfumed. Her toiletting complete, Jessica stood up, feeling clean and fragrant, and rather pleased with herself, like a kid that's just been potty-trained.

An hour later a handler came to escort Jessica from her cell. He blindfolded her, led her by the arm through the corridors of the cellblock and then outside. Jessica briefly sensed the bright daylight and felt the pleasant warmth of the sun on her head before they entered another building. Coolness and darkness returned, accompanied by a smooth, tiled floor beneath her bare feet.

Unseen hands helped Jessica onto a medical table and released her wrists their dangling handcuffs, but only so she could be fixed to the table, her hands attached to it by straps on each side. 'Bondage is relative' is an oft quoted saying on Rabbit Island, and Jessica, feeling her hands resting relaxed at her sides instead of pinned behind her, understood it well. Feeling her ankles being spread and similarly secured bothered her very little - there was something familiar and reassuring about the hands that controlled her. Her instincts were right - Dr Schmidt had left the preparations to Kate and Carol.

Jessica felt something wrapping tightly around her arm, constricting it. The blood pressure monitor was being set up. Then she felt a pungent rubbery smell against her mouth and nose, and something gassy. "Count backwards from ten to one," Doctor Schmidt instructed.

"Ten, n...."

The Doctor watched the heart monitor for a few moments. "We're ready, nurse Kate."

Kate lifted Jessica's blindfold, checked her pupil dilation and stroked her friend's forehead. The doctor fitted a metal dental gag between Jessica's teeth and forced her mouth open to such a degree that a conscious person would have found it intolerable. He poked around in Jessica's mouth with latex covered fingers, pushing against the rigid steel T-bar fixed behind her back teeth where her molars used to be. He studied the bar's upward piercing through her tongue, admiring not just the bondage it inflicted on Jessica's mouth but also the precision of the fitting, and almost feeling sorry to have to remove such an elegant construction.

He picked up a small drill from a neatly laid out tray of implements while Kate readied herself with the suction tube at Jessica's mouth. The removal operation, at once delicate and brutal, commenced.

While the T-bar extraction continued, Carol restored the six heavy-duty pony rings to Jessica's labial piercings. She was pleased to see Jessica's substantial nipples in excellent shape and still ringed. A good body piercer always feels a long-term responsibility for the piercings she makes.

THE BELLS

Jessica barely remembered her visit to the surgery, and had only vague recollections of Kate and Doctor Schmidt. She slept in her cell for hours, eventually rising due to thirst. She licked her lips for the first time in two months. Her mouth hurt, bruised and sore from the severe opening of the dental gag and from the doctor's efforts in removing the T-bar. She looked down at her tingling sex and smiled upon seeing her restored piercings.

She was puzzled by the noise of a pleasant tinkling sound, like small bells, every time she moved. When she shook her chest the bells rung in response. "Bastards," she muttered with a wry smile. Standing up and leaning fully forward, she saw they had fitted small bells to her nipple rings. She shook her body again and laughed. It was as if a juvenile prank had been played on her, and not the first time she had thought that about her Rabbit Island masters.

Still restrained in her bunny chains Jessica knelt in front of the food and water dispensers. She cried out with pain when putting her mouth over the water dildo, pressing her chin and the tip of her nose against the pressure pads that released the water. The water in her belly reminded her of her hunger, as did the large protruding dildo to her left. Shifting over to it, she studied the slight downward curve of it, designed to make it easier to swallow. It was longer than the depth of her mouth by at least two inches.

"Sheesh, they don't make anything easy," she muttered, and gingerly took between her lips and let it slide in. Throating a penis was like swallowing a large pill - it's better to get it down first time. She pushed through her gagging reflex and moved her body upwards and forwards. The tube eased smoothly downwards into her throat until her nose and chin made contact with the sensors.

The feeding tube pulsed like a slow and strong heartbeat every couple of seconds. At first, she didn't think anything was happening, until she felt the pangs in her stomach begin to ease. Kneeling secured in her bunny chains and suckling at the mechanical feeder, Jessica felt like a helpless young animal, eager to gulp down whatever was provided by this grossly perverted variation of a mother's teat.

Sitting back on her bed, restored and fed, Jessica couldn't help but call out a genuine 'thank you' to the monitoring camera.

The arrangement of the cell was designed to remove any notion a new arrival had of her self-sufficiency. Everything coming in and out of her body was done for her and each fixture totally benign in purpose - feeding her, washing her, toileting her, and giving sexual pleasure and relief.

The day passed, and the next one too, by which time Jessica was talking to the equipment that maintained and nurtured her. Her only human contact were the faint noises beyond the cell door. Her noisy neighbour was now seldom to be heard, having become acquainted with the policy of rewards and punishments.

Jessica paced back and forth in her cell, a rat in a cage. Did rats get bored, she wondered. Her bunny chains were a kind of semi-bondage, leaving her neither free nor properly restrained, she felt in a kind of limbo. Prisoner purgatory. She became angry, trying to pull her arms apart and tugging on the chain connecting the cuffs to her collar as if after three days they would suddenly break open. Her frustration spilled out in a string of obscenities directed up at the monitor camera. Just in case they weren't watching, she turned her back to the cell door and thumped it repeatedly with her fists.

Room service promptly arrived. Two men walked in.

"I'm bored," Jessica grumpily informed them.

Their response was less than sympathetic. "Lay down on your rug," one of them growled. Jessica's hesitation was met with a sharp slap on her cheek; the officially approved chastisement for bunnies slow in following orders. Stunned by the sudden assault Jessica went down on her knees, collapsed to one side and positioned herself belly-down on the rug.

One man grabbed the ball-gag from its hook on the wall, while the other took care of the ankle shackles. Jessica cried out in pain as the red rubber ball was wedged between her teeth. Straps were buckled behind her head, another over her face, with a third buckled under her chin. Only then did she resume her complaining. It was a habit for many bunnies to be silent until they were gagged and then unleash a torrent of garbled saliva-dribbling abusive language, tolerated by the handlers purely because they were amused by it.

Simultaneously with her gagging, Jessica's ankles were shackled and joined to her wrists, hog-tying her. She rattled and rolled in her chains like a freshly captured wild beast, only making the handlers laugh at her. They decided her hog-tie should be stricter lest she did herself some damage. A thin leather cord was looped around her two big toes and threaded through the D ring at the top of ball-gag harness. The slack in the cord was pulled out and tied off, leaving Jessica with her neck bent back, facing ahead and unable to lower her chin to the floor. Another cord was used to draw her elbows together, eliciting more garbled complaints from Jessica. They rolled her onto her side, threaded a third cord through her nipple rings, then laced the two trailing ends through her labia rings, closing her labia like a shoe, then tied the cord off to her handcuffs. She was rolled back on her belly to experience the full erotic tug of the cords. If she wiggled her toes, her head pulled backwards. If she moved her hands, she felt a tug on her nipples.

Jessica wasn't likely to win 'best in show' at the hog-tie championships, but the combined effect of the chains and the leather cords made for a stringent binding, causing her to regret her earlier outburst. She continued to rage at the men, only causing them further amusement. One man left the cell, and returned a minute later holding two mugs of coffee.

They pulled her rug through a quarter turn so that she was facing them when they sat on her bed. "Ever played Name that Tune , Jessica?"

"Ehhh!" She confirmed.

"The rules are simple. I whisper the name of a song in your ear and you have to sing it,"

Jessica looked at them incredulously. Most men just wanted to abuse her once they had her in such a helpless position, not play parlour games.

"And George has to say what the song is. If he fails to guess it, he is punished."

George almost choked on his coffee. "He's kidding with you Jessica. It's you who is punished!"

Alan knelt down to Jessica's face and whispered in her ear: " I was bound to love you !"

Jessica started to hum it, but was stopped by Alan. "You have to sing the words. No humming!"

She started to 'sing'. They laughed, most surely at her rather than with her.

George didn't get that one, even after three repeats. Jessica wondered if he was deliberately failing to guess it, but there again she never could sing in tune. Alan fared no better with Jessica's rendition of Unchained Melody . George couldn't even spot Please Release Me .

Three more tunes followed. Only one the last did Alan guess correctly (The Star Spangled Banner ), and only after Jessica had sung the whole thing. It left her in tears.

George and Alan thought it appropriate to end with the national anthem, and with Jessica on a winning streak. They left her alone, slamming the cell door callously behind them, and without a word on when she would be freed from their wicked hog-tie. Jessica began her long-awaited struggle - an animalistic instinct to fight against what has trapped it. Had she known how strict the bondage would be, and that she had to give a singing recital, she might never have engineered the situation she found herself in.

Jessica rocked her body back and forward on the rug, sensing rhythmic tugs on her nipples, her labia, her toes, and her hands. Fucking the carpet, she'd heard it called. It proved mildly stimulating considering how little she was able to move her body.

As for the question of whether it passed the time and relieved her boredom - it did! With her pent-up orgasmic frustration, the aches and pains, the anger, the self-pity, the guilt, the shame of deliberately bringing this on herself, Jessica had much occupy her mind.

THE PONY QUARTERS

The following morning Jessica had a visitor - Riccardo. She knelt on the floor in front of him, facing down at his feet. Her respect was genuine. She tried not to look too happy but seeing Riccardo, her pony driver, again it felt like a new beginning.

Riccardo held a clipboard and a pen and, after a brief greeting, started to ask Jessica some questions:

"The new bunny chains are more comfortable than the previous type. Strongly agree? Somewhat agree? No change? Somewhat disagree? Strongly disagree?"

Jessica's wrists pulled against the steel which had held her wrists behind her back for the last two days, and with some reluctance said: "Somewhat agree."

Riccardo asked similar questions about the automatic toilet, the phallic feeders, Lucy's exercise video, the slut saddle, and even asked about the softness of the mattress.

Jessica's brow furrowed as she began to find the questions as tedious as they were absurd. She always hated that style of multiple-choice. She needed to know something. "Riccardo, Sir. How is it my opinions matter all of a sudden?"

He gave a shrug. "It's research, to find out how the new initiation cells are functioning, and whether these home comforts help make the fresh arrivals easier to train."

Jessica sneered. "Home comforts? That's very funny! Boredom was my biggest problem."

"Ah! So that's what yesterday's tantrum was about?" Riccardo smiled. "I heard you had a little sing-song with Alan and George. Did the hog-tie they put you in help pass the time?"

"Actually, it did," said Jessica proudly. "At least it prevented me from kicking the walls of this impersonal automated cell."

"Better than a cold and dark dungeon!" Riccardo retorted, rebuking Jessica for her ingratitude.

"We never talked like this when I was your ponygirl, did we?" Jessica asked, gazing up at him and making direct eye contact.

"No we didn't," said Riccardo, smiling, and implicitly answering her implicit question. That was the moment she knew she was no longer under his whip. He was as considerate and fair as a pony driver could be. The thought of being under another man's whip scared her.

He helped her to stand and led her from the cell. Jessica was horrified that her nipple bells rang gently with every step. They walked out into the cobbled courtyard - the mustering point for all ponygirl activities. Two empty and detached pony traps stood in their usual parking places, ready to be hitched up. Jessica found the scene familiar and reassuring, even upon sighting the end-of-day whipping frame; all the signs of her past routine. Jessica was a creature of habit, and that was considered a good attribute for a ponygirl.

Riccardo opened the door to the ponygirl quarters. "After you!" he gestured with disarming courtesy. He unlocked her bunny chains and collar, leaving Jessica wearing nothing but her pony piercings as she walked into the newly decorated ponygirl quarters.

The main room, with its new arrived Scandinavian furnishings, was deserted. Jessica moved her aching arms about her in a slow windmill fashion trying to loosen up her shoulders while working through the pain. She heard laughter from the bedroom, and moments later three naked women emerged, screaming with delight. Debbie was the first to embrace her. Diana and Melinda soon made it an emotional group hug.

The rest of the day passed with barely a moment of silence as the four told their respective stories of the last few months in exile. The large pine table was piled with harnesses and ponyboots to be cleaned and repaired. As they worked, they talked; and as they polished and rubbed the leather so their nipple bells rang out almost constantly. To further add to the ringing cacophony Jessica had to fix bells to the backs of pony-boots, following their removal on La Plata.

The wall, with its gallery of ponygirl pictures had several new photographs, including Jessica as part of the four-team on La Plata. Debbie, Diana and Melinda were in turns appalled and enthralled by her tale of cruelty, punishment and subsequent rescue from La Plata. When asked about the bruising on her face she explained that Doctor Schmidt had caused it during the operation to remove her T-bit. Not for the first time, her roommates winced with horror as Jessica described her ordeal.

Debbie's experience on a remote Japanese island had been very different. After cajoling from Jessica, she reluctantly agreed to tell her story:

"I was what they called a pony-whore. That's why I'm always wearing corsets and stuff in the photographs. As you can see, they always made up my face to make me look as sexy as possible, bright red lips, rouged cheeks and dark eyeliner and shadows. I didn't mind that part, but I guess I looked a bit of a tart. We used to spend most of the day lined up, harnessed and attached to our one-man sulkies, waiting for customers. When a new client arrived, he could choose which of the five of us he wanted. Some of the pony-whores were shameless. If they liked the look of a man, they flaunted their bodies to tempt him. After a while I learned to smile and flaunt myself too, developing a sexy sway of the hips. It was better to appear happy and willing because some of the clients, particularly the cruel ones, preferred to take a sullen ponygirl as she was considered more deserving of punishment...

"Once a price was agreed - and mine increased a lot during my time there - the customer sat behind me on the sulky, sometimes receiving instructions on how to control me with the whip. In fact, the whipping was only for his amusement. I knew where I had to run. There was an area about five hundred metres away and uphill, so with the climb and the high humidity I was usually drenched in sweat when we arrived...

"The was a wooden hut, like a kiosk, at the top of the hill. The man who ran it ensured the customer had everything he needed, from condoms to whips to coca cola. After taking in the view from the hill, and exploring the equipment at his disposal, the customer would finally detach me from the shafts and fix me to one of the various frames. Usually I'd be put on a whipping frame first, just to get him in the mood. Then he'd fuck me - bent forward over an A frame was normal. Usually they left my tail plug in place, I guess they found it sexy to fuck a real ponygirl, but occasionally someone would remove it to use my ass. Some men would lay me straight down in the spread-eagle frame for a straightforward fuck. The fact that I was still a sweating and panting ponygirl seemed only to add to the attraction. I sure had lots of male noses pressed into my armpits. Apparently the diet they fed me, which is high in grain and fruit, was designed to make my sweat more fragrant than you might suppose."

Jessica laughed. "That would make a nice change! Did they let you bring some of that food back with you?"

"You're very funny, Jessica. Your handler must have needed a gas mask after you'd been wearing your leatherbody all day!" Debbie continued her story. "Usually we'd spend an hour in this hilltop 'sex place', as they romantically called it. After fucking me, the client would usually leave me tied down and get a cold drink or an ice cream from the kiosk. Alternatively, he might watch one of the other pony-whores getting treatment in the neighbouring sex place. After that short break, the clients were ready to go at me again...

"The worst part was being hitched up again for the journey back. Trotting downhill pulling along a guy that had just been fucking me was so..." Debbie paused to wipe a tear from her eye. "... so humiliating. I guess the men liked that part, the feeling of absolute power over a western woman who was several inches tall than them. I hated that part. Not even a cheap whore has to go through that."

Jessica was feeling strangely aroused by Debbie's tale until she saw the hurt flow out. They hugged, and for once Jessica was the comforter.

Diana and Melinda were lucky enough to have stayed together during their temporary exile from Rabbit Island.

"We were on a vast private estate and lived with other ponygirls and horses in a stable. Diana recalled. "The lawns were so well tended it makes the Rabbit Island lawns look like a municipal park. Of course, it took a lot of servants and slaves to keep it that way. Mostly we were used by the garden supervisor and hitched to a trailer that held garden tools. Perhaps our trailer would be loaded up with grass clipping or other waste. We weren't driven as such; we were just pulled along by our reins. You can see from the picture that the harnesses were well worn, designed for working not showing. It was just as well the harnesses were comfortable, as we usually had to sleep in them. All they did was release our hands from behind and chain them to the top of our beds. They weren't even real beds, just bails of hay with a blanket on top...

"Not all the ponygirls were like us. The lady of the estate had a pair of the prettiest ponygirls you ever saw - present company accepted! Both were tall, slim and blonde - from Sweden apparently. I must confess I envied them, strapped up in wonderful shiny harnesses and elaborate headstocks, while we were more like the gardener's donkeys. Yes. Donkey-girls!"

Jessica laughed. "Any donkey boys? Did you get laid?" she demanded to know.

Diana and Melinda had a glint in their eyes as they exchanged glances. "Not officially," they conceded, as if reluctant to share their secret. "We had to sleep side by side on our hay bed, with our hands chained to the wall by our heads, which they thought would keep us out of mischief. Let's just say we often found our legs entwined and our kisses not exactly chaste. Ever given someone an orgasm using your toes?"

Jessica shook her head. Melinda just blushed, being the 'someone' in question.

Diana continued. "One night we were discovered to be not quite on our respective sides of the hay bales. It was one of the stable lads… of horses, not ponygirls! He was small and slim, like a jockey, but rather cute, we thought, with his slick black hair and soft dark eyes...

Instead of punishing or reporting us as we expected, he just stared, and I saw him adjusting the front of his pants. It was Melinda who encouraged him, and although he didn't understand English, he soon got the message from her body language. Suddenly I wasn't good enough for her!" She winked at Melinda.

"So the boy undressed and climbed onto the bed with us. Even in the darkness of the stable, we could see his cock was at full attention. It wasn't very thick but it was plenty long enough for the job. He seemed in awe, almost trembling as he put his palms on Melinda's breasts. I do believe his lost his virginity with Melinda that first night...

"The next night he came to us again. What can I say? The young boy was a gentleman. I could tell he wanted to fuck Melinda again but he took me instead, although I think I scared the life out of the poor boy when I wrapped my legs around him. He came to us most nights of the week from then on, never stayed more than half an hour and was always careful to clean up behind him. He kept us sane."

"One night, towards the end of our stay, he became too confident and fell asleep between us. I can tell you that we didn't object to having that warm young body wedged between us so we let him sleep. That's when they found him. He was dragged out of our stable by the supervisors, almost crying with terror.

"We didn't see him again until later that afternoon when we were returning to the stable. He'd been tied to a post with his hands high above him. They'd whipped his bare back enough to make it bleed. I thought he was unconscious, but as we went past him, pulling our usual gardening trailer, he opened his eyes and smiled, as if to say we were worth it!"

"Aw!" Debbie and Jessica said in unison, noticing that Diana and Melinda both seemed teary-eyed at the recollection.

They went to bed early, noticing the room contained eight beds as it did previously. The four vacant beds gave Jessica an empty feeling, a desperate desire to see Linda, Cathy, Sandra and Karita again. She hoped the four empty beds were a sign of their imminent arrival rather than a horrible reminder of their loss.

The handcuffs fixed by a chain to the top of the bed frame had been upgraded. These were thicker, absurdly so, but had soft rounded edges, unlike the previous police-issue versions. They had a green LED light built in, which flashed like a beacon every few seconds. The light would turn red once the cuffs were secured.

"It's nice to sleep in my own bed again," said Jessica to nobody in particular as she pulled a bed-sheet over her and locked the shiny new cuffs around her wrists.

End of chapter 25

Coming soon…Hitting the trails. Rude food. Riccardo receives shocking news.

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