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Ponyland
By
Sir Thomas
The following story
was inspired by the film “
The following is a
real story that never happened!
Chapter 1
“Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.
“Ugh!” the woman grunted as the goon slapped her on the
back of her head. His breath smelled of garlic and onions.
She was dressed in a long white cotton robe. She was naked
underneath, having been “prepared” for interrogation earlier. With her arms
exposed by the short sleeves, her bound hands were obvious. They were cuffed
behind her back with tight steel manacles. In addition a canvas bag had been
loosely thrown over her head.
“Quiet!” the goon demanded in a gravelly voice, “or I’ll
give you more of the same.”
The woman walked on, prodded by the goon’s hand in the
small of her back. One of her slippers fell off. “Leave it!” he said. She
couldn’t see where she was going but she could feel the wall on her right. She
left the shoe as the man yelled “Move!”
The woman trembled. “What did I do to deserve this?” she
wondered as she stumbled blindly forward. “I’m innocent.”
It didn’t take long before they entered a large room. She
was forced into a wooden chair. “Stay where you are. Someone will come get you.
Don’t get up or you’ll be sorry!”
The woman sat still and quietly whimpered. She was blind.
The hood was made of canvas and it itched horribly. She tried to think. “Why
did they arrest me?” she thought. “I didn’t do anything,” she kept repeating in
her mind.
It took a long time for someone to arrive. The gentleman
spoke with an English accent. “Are you well, my dear?” he asked politely.
“Why am I here?” she replied with a trembling voice.
“You are here because you failed to comply with the mandates
of the State.”
“How? I haven’t broken any laws. I know
I haven’t. I’ve been a good citizen!”
“We’re well aware of your behavior patterns. We’ve had you
under surveillance for the past two years.”
“What?” she said fearfully. “But why?
I haven’t done anything!”
“We felt your behavior warranted investigation.”
“What sort of behavior?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
The phrase had the sound of finality so the woman stopped
arguing. She knew that the decision had been made to interrogate her. She
figured the best thing to do at this point was cooperate.
“So what happens now?”
Chapter 2
“Stand,” the Englishman ordered, taking her arm.
“Can you remove the bag from my head? Please?” she
pleaded.
“Soon,” he offered. “Kick off your other slipper. You’ll
be given footwear shortly.”
They walked on, the Englishman treating the woman with
kindness and respect. It was in sharp contrast to her earlier treatment. The
people that had bound her, stripped her, and hooded her were not gentle at all.
They were either cold or sadistic. And that goon that walked her down that long
hallway was nothing short of pure evil.
When they arrived at their destination the woman heard
heels, lots of them. There must have been a lot of women in high heels near
her. She was led into a small room. The sounds of the heels faded as the door
closed behind her.
“I’m going to release your hands. Keep them at your side
until I tell you to move them. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She said.
“Good.”
The man removed her cuffs and pressed her wrists to her
hips. “Don’t move your hands,” he ordered politely. “The English were always so
polite,” she thought to herself.
A female helper handed him a leather cuff as another held
the victim’s opposite hand. “Don’t resist,” he ordered as he placed the cuff on
her wrist. He secured it with a padlock then repeated the process with the
other wrist as the first helper held the woman’s bound wrist.
“I want you to lift your hands above your head, dear.
Don’t be afraid. Everything will be fine.”
Slowly the woman lifted her arms high above her head. She
felt something attached to her wrists. They felt like chains.
The helpers had been through the process many times. One
of the girls stepped forward as she had done so many times before. The snaps on
the woman’s shoulder separated and the robe fell to the floor. The other girl
pulled it away and tossed it in a bin.
Now naked the woman began to tremble once more. “Please
don’t rape me!” she cried.
“Is that what you fear? Do you fear rape?”
“Yes!”
“Why?” he curiously demanded in his best impersonation of
Malcolm McDowell.
“I don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to get pregnant!”
“You had your tubes tied three years ago. Pregnancy isn’t
in your future. Tell me. Why does a woman not want to have children at such a
young age?” he asked, exaggerating the English lilt in his voice.
She remained silent for some time.
“Cat got your tongue, Dear?” he asked cruelly.
“I don’t know. I just didn’t want kids.”
“You didn’t want the responsibility.”
“No.”
“You didn’t want the risk.”
“No.”
“You wanted to be a whore. You just wanted sex without the
risk, without the responsibility,” he said sharply.
“No! Stop it! Stop it!” she cried.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said in a much subdued voice.
“What?” she returned quietly.
“I won’t rape you if you do exactly as I say. Deal?”
In the subdued light of the canvas bag she thought
carefully for only a moment. From the confines of the canvas bag only one word
was heard, “Deal!”
Chapter 3
It had been nearly two hours since the bag had been thrown
over her head. She was tired, scared, and humiliated by her nudity. Her arms
hung loosely above her head, manacled to chains she could not see. The people
in the room were invisible to her. All she knew was that there were several
people in the room. But for some reason, only the Englishman spoke.
The women took the victim’s legs and pulled them to either
side. Leather cuffs were attached to loose chains mounted to the floor. With
her legs now bound the chains on her wrists tightened. Slowly they rose,
pulling her hands upward.
“No! Stop!” she cried.
But the chains continued to tighten until they took her
full weight.
“Please, stop!” she cried again as the chains continued to
move.
Soon she was on tiptoes. Seconds later her feet were six
inches off the floor. Her body was stretched tight as a drum. “Please let me
down! I can’t stand it!”
Suddenly the hood was removed. Standing there were three
people, one man and two women. “What in God’s name?” the woman asked.
The man wore jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather vest.
On his head he wore a black Stetson. That seemed ordinary compared to the
women.
The women were dressed from head to toe in black latex.
With the exception of a pony tail sitting high on each girl’s head, the only
things exposed were their lips and their eyes. Their lips seemed to be wrapped
around a red rubber ball. The hoods they wore were stretched so tight that she
could clearly see the series of straps that held the gags in place.
“This is
“I don’t understand. Why are they in those outfits?”
“They earned the right to wear them.”
“Earned the right? I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. It will all be explained in time.
Now, these lovely ladies are going to take some measurements. The process will
be relatively unpleasant unfortunately but there’s little that can be done
about that. Just do as you’re told and I won’t have to rape you.”
As the girls began taking measurements the Englishman
walked over to a computer terminal. With his back to the suspended girl he
began asking questions.
“State your full name for verification,” he ordered.
“Christine Laura Mason,” she replied.
“Occupation?”
“Lawyer,” she said as the girls started measuring her legs’
circumferences at several places.
“Yearly salary is quoted at $230,000. Correct?”
“Yes!” she said as the girls slowly continued to measure
her legs.
“Last time you dyed your hair?” he asked.
“Never. I had it styled two weeks ago,”
she offered as one of the girls pulled her right toe downward and took a
measurement with a strange tool.
“Have you ever played any bondage games in the bedroom?”
“No!” she stated firmly.
“Are you gay?”
“No!” she repeated with equal emphasis.
The Englishman continued to drone on with his questions as
he typed. “Your last recorded penetration was on
“Penetration?” she asked before suddenly realizing what
was being asked. Go to hell!” she yelled.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he calmly commented. He heard
the girl squeal in a humiliating fashion. Her orifices were being measured. The
humiliating question was always asked about the time that the probes were
inserted. The reason was obvious.
“The girls will be done with you shortly. Don’t resist.
They won’t hurt you,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”
After he had left the girls took measurements that made
absolutely no sense to Christine. First they measured the width of her breasts
with evil looking calipers. They took eight different measurements including
the bulge from her breastbone and distances from throat to nipples. It was
weird!
Common measurements were taken too such as hips, waist,
chest and neck. When they started measuring Christine’s head she had to ask,
“What are you two doing?”
But the girls just continued to take measurements. They
measured her eyes, her ears, and the distance between the corners of her lips. They
even measured the length and width of her nose.
The final measurements were really strange and required
Christine’s cooperation. One girl picked up a camera and the other took a
rectangular block of maple. The wood was roughly four inches by six inches. It
was a half inch thick. The girl placed it against Christine’s lips and pressed
gently. Christine didn’t want it in her mouth but feared punishment if she
refused. So she opened her mouth and let the girl insert it. The girl then
gently pushed her chin up as an indication for her to bite down on it. As
Christine tasted the maple the latex clad girl continued to lift her chin until
her head was tilted far back. A series of flashes commenced. In short order the
graph on the bottom of the board had been photographed. Christine’s head was tilted
forward and another set of pictures were taken. The purpose eluded her. What
she didn’t realize was that her teeth had just been measured for a gag.
There was one final measurement and it was as unpleasant
as they come. One of the girls,
She soon found out as
Instead she attached the device to the chain and held it
taut until Dina lifted the chain with the special control. “Please take it
out!” she cried as she practically hung from her nose.
The process was far from over.
With her mouth fully open Christine could only groan. The
girls continued to take measurements. Now they measured the distance between
the corners of her lips while her mouth was wide open as well as the distance
between her teeth. Finally they gripped her tongue with a pair of forceps and
measured that as well.
The worst was over, for now!
While Christine groaned Paul Wentworth wolfed down another
liverwurst and onion sandwich. “How can you eat that stuff,” his partner, Jane
Alderman, asked.
They both watched the victim’s suffering via a remote
monitor. “I’ve actually grown quite accustomed to the taste actually.
Liverwurst is such an arousing flavor. The garlic and onions seem to meld
together yet seem to contrast each other at the same time. I make my own you
know!” he said in his phony thick English accent.
“Will you stop that? I know you’re from
“Yes,” he continued, using his suave tone. “But does she?”
Joan laughed as he made his exit to continue the victim’s
treatment.
Paul stopped by the supply room to retrieve a few items
he’d need. Phil Harris, a distant relative to the movie star of the fifties,
was gathering the gear that Christine would need, a task he had performed
countless times. Each item was manufactured by a special tailoring machine that
created clothing, harnesses, and footwear out of various materials. As he was
gathering the items and arranging them on a cart a warning message popped up on
his terminal just as Paul entered the room.
“Damn it!” he said in disgust as he read the screen.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.
“The fabricator ran out of leather belt material. Damn
factory was sabotaged again by rebels.”
“You got the stuff out for the new girl though, right?”
“213709? Yes, well, almost. The machine stopped with only
a foot of material left. It produced two harnesses and all the corsets and
footwear. But we ran out of belt material for the head harnesses.”
“You mean you don’t have a spoon for her? How am I
supposed to train her? She’s hanging right now mouth agape. Don’t you have any
spares?”
“We’ve been waiting for three days now. I had to use up
the stock on that pair that came in last week. You know how much leather those
body harnesses use. Look,” Phil said, trying to control his excitement, “we
have five thousand feet coming in day after tomorrow. I’ll put you at the top
of the list.”
“What do I do for now though, just let her hang there?”
“I’ve got a foot left. I have a single strap design that
should work. It’s old and not as effective but I’m sure it will fill your
needs.”
“How long?”
“How does twenty seconds grab you?” Phil pressed a few
keys on his keyboard and selected the archived design. It was one of his
designs, created over twenty years ago when he was just starting out. A short
time later the device was placed on the awaiting cart with the remaining gear.
Pushing the cart out the door Paul glanced at Phil and
beamed a huge smile. “Thanks! I thought I was out in the cold.”
“Would I do that to a friend?” Phil replied sardonically.
Paul stopped at the door to the prep room and thought to
himself, “I’m an Englishman. Pip, pip, cheerio and all that rot!” He chuckled
then opened the door.
“My dear,” Paul said to the hanging woman. “Are you still
here? Heavens! We should get you prepared for your training session. I’m
certain you don’t like hanging around like this. Do you?”
Christine shook her head and tried to say “Ugh, ugh!” The
words were not nearly as intelligible as she had hoped.
“Good,” Paul said in that exaggerated tone. I have a few
items I’d like you to wear. “You don’t have any objections, do you?”
“Ugh, ugh,” she grunted again.
“Excellent! The first item I have is a little device that
I’m going to put in your mouth. It’s a bit uncomfortable but I’m sure you’ll
understand its purpose shortly. Now hold still.”
The spoon, as it was commonly called, was essentially a
gag. It looked something like a brass bow tie with a thick brass rod going
through a hole in the knot. Each bow was made of eighth inch machined brass.
Along the edge a quarter inch wide lining gave the top and bottom a cuplike
appearance. All the edges were rounded for comfort. Finally a machined black
nylon mouth guard was incorporated into the design to prevent the brass from
actually coming in contact with the girl’s teeth.
Paul held it up to Christine’s face and let her get a good
look at it. It was going into her mouth and she didn’t know what it would do to
her. She was so scared! Paul pressed it to her upper teeth and pushed firmly.
The groove seated perfectly. (This was expected because the state kept a copy
of all dental records.) He went behind her and loosely buckled the straps. Paul
nodded his head and
“Bite down. It will be more comfortable,” he said as he
pushed her chin upwards. “Harder,” he ordered.
Christine’s cheeks were wet with tears as she pressed her
teeth into the fine groove in the nylon mouthpiece. “Good girl,” Paul said as
he tightened the strap, pulling the device deeper into her mouth. “You’ll be
much more comfortable that way.”
The front brass spoon hung at a slight downward angle, its
counterpart pushing against the roof of Christine’s mouth. It was annoying to
have her mouth stuffed with this brass intruder but it wasn’t painful in any
way. The biggest problem was that the device was hard and unforgiving. She had
to constantly push it around in her mouth, even sucking on it, tasting the
metallic tang.
She couldn’t for the life of her understand its purpose.
If they wanted to gag her why have something sticking out of her mouth? She’d
seen people gagged in magazines and on the internet before. They never looked
like this. And the rod running across her mouth confused her even more. What
was its purpose? She was almost curious. But fear was her main concern right
now.
Paul examined her mouth carefully. “You look magnificent,”
he continued. “Let’s get your footwear on so we can get you off these chains,
shall we?”
Christine stared straight ahead and nodded.
The footwear was made of black patent leather. The heels
were seven inches long and the toes had three inch platforms on them. The edge
of each sole was recessed and the center was hollow. Again Christine was
confused by what was happening to her. She watched in fascination as first one
leg then the other was released and sheathed in the shiny black leather boots.
The boots were laced along their front with elastic cord until the entire
string of grommets nearly touched. The cord was clamped together with a special
clasp that was crimped. Then a bow was tied and held permanently in place with a
gold band that covered the previously installed clasp. The boots were full
length reaching from her toe to within a couple inches of her crotch. They sheathed
her legs like a thick second skin. They felt stiff, especially around the knees
and ankles. With her feet still a few inches off the ground she didn’t know if
she could walk in them. She knew they would insist though.
With a signal from Paul Coco lowered Christine onto her
feet. For the first time in nearly forty minutes her arms were not being pulled
out of their sockets. But her feet now had to deal with skyscraper heels like
she had never worn before. She stood uneasily, using the chains for support as
she wobbled on the new footwear. She towered over Paul. The girls, Christine
noticed for the first time, all seemed to be wearing similar boots. That’s why,
she realized, they didn’t have any trouble reaching her head.
“Take a few steps in place, Dear. Allow your feet to
settle into them.”
Paul heard the hollow sounds produced by the platform soles.
He knew she was still confused, not realizing that the boots were actually designed
to sound like hooves on hard pavement. Once she visited the blacksmith and was
set in front of a cart she’d understand. But why give her more to worry about?
All she knew at this point was that she was gagged and had to wear strange high
heel boots. She had enough to worry about.
Christine:
“Fear is a wonderful tool. Did you know that, Christine?”
he asked me as the girls began putting a shiny leather outfit on my torso. I
nodded fearfully. I didn’t know what he was getting at but I was so scared that
I had difficulty concentrating. All I knew was that these people were going to
torture me. And I didn’t know why!
“You don’t mind if I frighten you then?”
I nodded.
“You do mind! But you think it’s a good tool. Isn’t that strange!”
I nodded again, replying to his sadistic question.
“Are you frightened now? Of course you are,” he continued,
turning his back on me as he scratched his nose.
The girls had pulled the leather corset under my arms,
buckling it in the back. It was made of shiny patent leather too. I noticed
that the outfit didn’t completely cover my breasts. They did lift them though.
Suddenly I felt a machine being used to tightened straps behind me. My waist constricted
until I could barely breathe. I groaned. The Englishman paid no attention to my
torment and simply continued to talk to me in that evil tone.
“We must keep you frightened. As you yourself know, it is
a good training tool. Trust me. You will be much happier when your training is
over. I would advise you not to lose that fear. Understand?”
I nodded. As long as they were going to dress me in these
outfits and treat me this way I knew I’d fulfill that goal. I was so afraid and
I didn’t have any hope of release at all.
A thick posture collar was placed around my neck and laced
in front with a soft wire. Once it had been sewn together the ends were sealed
together in a manner exactly like the laces on the boots. When they were done I
had to look straight ahead.
They finally lowered my arms and took the leather manacles
off my wrists. My arms were so weak I couldn’t even fight them. I was so
helpless that I had no choice but to let them put them into a triangular
leather bag that they slung across my shoulders. At least I wasn’t hanging from
them. But the lacing pulled my elbows together and that hurt! I groaned.
“You’ll get used to it, Dear,” he said. But I seriously doubted
it.
Chapter 4
Loops on my shoulders were attached to the chains and
again they tightened them. At least I wasn’t pulled off my feet this time
though. Instead they chained my boots to the floor, although to rings that were
set closer together. Once my legs were secure they tightened the chains until I
stood perfectly erect. I still was on my heels but I was quite secure. I knew I
was in for more torment.
The blonde girl came over and looked at my nipples. She
examined them for a long time before going over to a table. The other girl
brought a high table in front of me and raised its adjustable top until it was
pressed to the underside of my breasts. Then she wrapped a strap around me,
securing the table to my chest.
I couldn’t look down very well but I noticed several gold
rings. I didn’t know what was going on. Suddenly I saw her take a couple items
from the tray and kneel underneath the table. “What was she doing?” I wondered.
I felt her feeling my clit. The Englishman saw my eyes open wide. “Do you
approve?” the torturer asked.
I shook my head and groaned.
“Unfortunate. Dina is excellent at arousing the women
here. You would enjoy her company. Perhaps some other sort of entertainment
would interest you. Pain perhaps?” he said as I felt a sudden stab between my
legs.
I screamed into the gag as loud as I could. What had she
done? It felt like she had cut it off! But I still felt her playing with it.
“What was she doing?” I next felt a metal tube being slipped over my clit. Then
I felt something entering the wound. “What had they done?”
As if in answer to my question the man explained, “We’ve
added a little decoration to your cute little bud. All our girls get a shiny
gold bell to cover their love nodule. That way we know where you are. We’ve
added a nice big ring to attach a leash if you get unruly. I’m sure you won’t
get unruly though. Will you?”
I shook my head. I just didn’t want them to hurt me
anymore.
The girl rose from under the table. I watched and felt her
play with my nipples again. This time I knew what was going to happen. Two
screams later and my breasts were ringed.
“I’m going to leave for a few minutes while these girls
handle the unpleasant task of your internal washing. We’ve developed a quick
and painless way to do so. Don’t be too afraid of the process. It won’t hurt
much although it will be somewhat humiliating.”
Again he left. Whenever he left bad things happened. This
was certain to be no exception. I watched as one girl took a two inch wide hose
and connected it to a socket on a large wheeled box. It looked like one of
these machines they filter antifreeze with. “Oh my God!
They’re going to flush me out with it! Please don’t do that!” I pleaded in my
mind as I groaned and screamed behind my gag.
They started with my ass. I felt it slip between my
cheeks, the greasy, Teflon coated probe spreading my orifice as it slid upward.
Suddenly I felt a slow pumping, in and out. Water would be injected for a few
seconds then immediately sucked out. The cycle was slow and rhythmic, becoming
longer as time progressed. I cried as the cycle continued but the girls paid no
notice to me. Eventually the time between cycles lengthened giving me time to
soak no doubt. As a final humiliating act the pumped my bowels with warm air
until my intestines were swollen like bagpipes. When they removed the probe the
gas escaped making a disgusting racket!
My sex was similarly treated but the water came much
slower but for longer periods of time right from the start. Again the cycle
involved pumping water into my abdomen and sucking it out. This water was
perfumed though. I could clearly smell the flowery fragrance.
The girls finished my preparation by first wrapping a belt
around my waist and plugging my ass and sex with metal probes. A leather crotch
strap held them in place. That was followed by a short leather skirt that
covered all exposed skin from my waist to the tops of my boots.
That must have been the last of the gear because they
attached a leather leash to my collar and held me in place while they detached
all the chains. A moment later, as if on cue, the Englishman
returned and took the leash. We left the room. My eyes flitted from one
side of the hall to another. Many iron doors lined the hallways like the one I
had just exited. The State was doing this to many people I realized. I still
didn’t understand why. I wondered if I’d ever know why this was done to me. At
this point it didn’t matter. All that mattered was obedience to the one holding
the leash. I’d do anything to keep from being hurt again.
The heels were awkward, especially since I didn’t have the
use of my hands for balance. In addition I had to walk with my back arched
because my shoulders were wrenched backwards by the cruel arm binder. At least
he walked slowly. I needed time to adjust to the boots.
We eventually emerged outside. I immediately saw many
other girls dressed as me. All were walking along paved serpentine paths which
had a strange coppery look to it. But it was their gait that caught my eye. As they
marched along the paths each girl lifted her knee until their thigh was horizontal
Then, she lowered it firmly, stomping the ground. “Was
I going to be forced to do that too?”
Her next stop was the blacksmith. Christine needed shoes.
Arnie Knudson had noted Christine’s needs and prepared a set. They were made of
forged steel. His own fabrication machine was capable of producing six pair per
hour using, steel, aluminum, bronze, leather, or rubber. The latter two were
for indoor use. “Put her on the bench, would you please?” Arnie asked of Paul.
There was a short table mounted to an adjustable pier
located in the center of the room. A simple tug on the leash guided the girl to
it where she bent over and was secured with a pair of leather straps. “Tempting
target, wouldn’t you say?” Paul noted, indicating Christine’s ass.
“Business before pleasure, my friend,” Arnie reminded him
as he approached with the first shoe. Just as if Christine were a real horse
Arnie put his back to her and lifted her leg until he had access to the sole of
the boot. The shoes always fit but the holes sometimes needed to be enlarged to
accommodate some inconsistency in the leather. This one was no exception. He
released her boot and walked over to his workbench. A few strokes of the file
and he was satisfied. Socket head screws were run into the sole and her first
horseshoe was in place.
“Where’s she headed,” Arnie asked Paul as he made
adjustments to the other shoe.
“Not sure. Probably Durba or Elmor in
the south.”
“Good area for her. Nice warm climate. I think she’ll like
it. Hey, didn’t I hear that you were retiring soon?”
“Yes. End of next month.”
“She’d make a lovely gold watch,” Arnie noted, referring
to the common retirement gift given to pony trainers.
“True. And my wife’s wanted another pony since we
domesticated
All this time Christine stayed bent over the table. She
hated being talked about without taking part in the conversation. In this case
it was a thousand times worse because they were discussing her like some sort
of retirement award. She didn’t want to become someone’s property. She
certainly didn’t want to march around town like someone’s mare. She was an
educated woman. “Six years of college and two years of law school,” she
thought. “Now look at me. And I still don’t understand why!”
Arnie had one more task. It was one which he enjoyed
immensely. Consulting the computer screen he entered a few parameters into the
form and submitted it. In short order the fabrication machine began making a
far different noise than when it has manufactured the horseshoes. What emerged
was a beautiful brunette horsetail. This horsetail was matched to Christine’s dna and sported a mating pad that would adhere to
Christine’s tailbone. Arnie abraded the area with a sterile bone paper then
applied a topical biological catalyst. The accelerated healing process took
ninety seconds. At the end of that period Christine had a permanent tail that
swept upward for nearly a foot before draping her ass. It looked stunning as
the individual hairs spread apart in an organized plume of hair that matched her own beautifully.
The last step was to install the wireless receiver into
her pussy. For this task Arnie released the rear strap and allowed both plugs
to be exposed. “Don’t let them pop out,” he ordered. The device was nothing
more than a thin black tube which screwed into an opening in the bottom end of
the device. The batteries were already in place on both units. Without a
warning Arnie buckled the crotch strap to her waist and grabbed her training
box.
The straps were released. “Stand up straight,” Paul said,
finally losing his phony accent. He pressed a button. He faintly heard a thump,
thump, thump from between Christine’s legs.
“Did you feel that?” he asked.
Christine’s bondage only allowed her minimal head movement
but she signaled that she had.
“Good, now how about this,” Paul said as he pressed
another button. Christine’s eyes opened wide as she screamed into the gag.
“That’s punishment level four,” Paul said. “That’s the
common setting. You get the idea?” he asked.
Again she nodded.
“Good. Then follow me.”
They walked out the door around some trees. There they
came upon a series of long narrow single story structures. Each was primarily
made of brick with tinted windows along their length. The windows went from
floor to ceiling with brick decorated pillars between them. It reminded
Christine of a train station she had seen once when she was a child.
They entered building T6B. “This is a training hall,” Paul
informed her. “All you will have to do is walk from here to the far end and
back. Simple, right? Well there’s a catch,” he warned.
“We’re going to control your pace. You see the white rectangular tiles all
along the floor? They’re pacing tiles. You have to step on each tile as you
walk without touching the wide metal strip between them. Not too hard, right?”
Christine shook her head.
“Now pay attention! You can’t have more than one foot on
the ground at a time unless the signal comes to rest. In addition you’re going
to be monitoring the weight distribution in your soles. That will allow us to
see if you’re keeping your body in the proper posture while you march. We want
your thigh to be level when you step forward. Then we want you to stomp your
foot as you lift your other one. Understand?”
She did.
“OK, if you screw up you’ll be warned through the device
in your crotch. If you don’t take the warning you’ll get that zap you felt
earlier. Let me put some numbers into the controller and we’ll go through a dry
run.”
Paul went over to the large black box on the wall. He
entered her code number and set the unit for a single round trip. The unit
would start in about twenty seconds.
Paul disconnected Christine’s leash and put her on a green
colored tile at the start of the run. “Look down your nose so you can watch where
to step. Don’t step on the black metal plate between the tiles. You’ll get
nailed if you do. If you do get nailed the system will make the next tile solid
and wait till you are ready to continue.
“I know this is a lot but just bear with me. When the tile
in front of you turns green you have 2 seconds to step onto it and take your
foot off the one behind. When you do, lift the knee. Then slowly bring it
forward so you touch down on the tile in front of you. Don’t go too fast. Don’t
touch any tile that’s red!
“Now, when you get to the larger end squares you must
march in place. A bell will ring. You must turn around and stand with both feet
on the ground together. Take two deep breaths then lift your right heel. The
process will repeat. Let’s get started.”
Paul checked all her straps and wires to make sure she
could march fifty feet without having anything come loose. She was ready. “Lift
your right toe and keep it off the floor,” he ordered. “Watch for the square in
front of you to turn green, then lift your knee. Step
forward into the square and stomp it. Just walk at a nice even pace.”
Paul held her right arm and watched carefully. The system
detected Christine’s toe go off the tile and initiated the march. On cue she
lifted her knee and stepped forward. As she did the next tile lit up. She
slowly lifted her left knee and stepped forward again. Paul steadied her as she
walked the first few steps. She was doing fine so he backed away and walked
slightly behind her.
“You’re doing fine. Keep that pace,” he said.
She continued to march. Paul noticed that her left leg
wasn’t coming up as high. “That thumping you’re feeling in your crotch is a
warning. You’ll get shocked if you don’t get your knees up. Your left leg isn’t
coming up high enough,” he warned.
As if to punctuate the warning Christine screamed and
almost fell as the shock hit her in the anus. The green light on her current
square went out and the one in front of her came on solid. “Get on the next
square. Get your head straight then lift your right toe.”
She was only two tiles from the end so she never had to
develop her rhythm again before coming to the end of the march. A bell sounded
suddenly. “Turn around and get into the starting position,” he repeated once
more. “Take two deep breaths then lift your toe.”
The trip back was no easier. She was tired and sore. Her
feet hurt and she was scared. But she was becoming quickly acquainted with the
routine and the pace. The timing was the toughest part, not because the pace
was fast, but rather because it was slow and deliberate.
Her trip back featured two warnings via the thumper in her
vagina. The warnings were taken to heart. She quickly lifted her knees and
stomped the ground better. Twice though she touched the black separators and
for this Paul was rewarded with the sound of Christine’s loud scream. “Don’t
touch the separators,” he reminded her needlessly.
“When you reach the end, stand still with both feet on the
ground. Wait for the bell. If it rings three times instead of once, move to the
padded horse against the wall and back up onto it. You can rest there until the
bell rings three times again.
Christine made it to the last square and stood until the
bell rung thrice. “Sit on the horse,” he said. Christine walked over to the
window and backed up against the padded seat. It featured a vertical padded
back that she was able to rest against. It wasn’t a perfect solution to her
exhaustion but it was better than nothing. At least she could get the weight
off her feet.
She sat for three minutes before the bell rang again.
“Stand up and look at the pillar next to you. Push the spoon into the socket,”
he ordered. When she did so she discovered that the spoon was stuck in the
unit. “Push inward to get a drink of water. Twist the
spoon clockwise to get solid food, finely ground of course. Push inward while
turning the spoon counterclockwise to release yourself. You can eat and drink
as much as you please today. Later your intake will be more carefully monitored
to prevent you from taking advantage of the rest period.”
Pressing inward she appreciated the cool water that flowed
onto her tongue. She drank her fill before trying the ground food. It tasted
like cheesecake. She seemed confused. “Cheesecake?” she thought. She went for
another hit of the food product and again tasted the luscious dessert. She
rolled her eyes. “That’s the most amazing stuff I’ve ever tasted,” she thought.
“Don’t overdo it on the food or water. That’s only to hold
you until your session is done. You have a lot more
marching to do,” he warned. “If you eat too much you’ll get sick. That’s
dangerous when you’re gagged.”
“I have to march some more? Jesus! I better just get some
more water,” she thought to herself.
While she ate Paul had reset the system to an automated
marching sequence. Her rest periods would be dictated by her heart rate. The
more exhausted she was the more rests she’d have. This way she could march for
several hours unattended.
With a push and a counterclockwise turn she released
herself. A single bell rang. “You have twenty seconds to get onto the starting
square and start the march with your toe.”
Christine walked over to the lighted green square and
signaled with her foot. The march began again.
Paul watched her move to the far end then walked out,
locking the door behind him. As he was about to close the door he heard her
scream. “Gotta keep those knees up,” he mumbled with a smile on his face.
Christine:
I didn’t hear him leave. So I was surprised when I turned
around to find the hallway empty. It stunned me so much that I nearly forgot to
trigger the next march down the path. I quickly lifted my right toe and waited
for the tile to turn green.
The march quickly became repetitive and boring. My entire
body hurt in one way or another. Even my mouth was sore from being bound closed
for so long. I couldn’t even release my jaw because the springs in the
mouthpiece kept a solid grip on them. I didn’t have time to worry about those
things anyway. All I could do was march.
When I reached the starting square I stopped and waited
for three bells. The bell rang once. I was about to walk to the bench when the
device between my legs began thumping. “A warning?” I
thought. Then it suddenly dawned on me. I wasn’t being given a rest on this
trip. I had to turn around and prepare for another stroll down the path. I
lifted my toe and waited for the sequence to be triggered.
Thankfully when I reached the far end I was given a rest.
The bell rang three times. I backed onto the wide padded horse and sat back
against my bound arms. At least I could get the weight off of these boots. My
toes were almost numb from all the pressure put on them. Even my tail hurt. I
hadn’t even bothered to consider that! I could actually feel my tail. It wasn’t
an adornment. It wasn’t taped on. It was actually part of me. I had a real
tail! “No!” I screamed into my gag to no one in particular.
The bell rang three times to signal the end of the rest
period. I needed water. Not a problem. I really wanted to taste that mashed
cheesecake again. When I gave the unit a turn it wasn’t cheesecake. It was
crushed strawberries. I was surprised but not necessarily disappointed. They
were very sweet.
Punishments and warnings continued to plague me as I
marched. As I tired I failed to lift my knees. A couple thumps and I strove to
accommodate. But sometimes I was just too tired and suffered for it. So I
screamed into the gag, pulled myself together and stood on the next tile
waiting for the signal to restart my march was given. Sometimes I just dragged
my toe over the black strip rather than lifting my entire leg. Again I screamed
from the jolt in my ass. I figured by the time I was done my butt would be
French Fried!
The rest periods always seemed to come at the times when I
was at the end of my rope. If I was marching with ease they simply didn’t come.
Instead the bell rang only once and I had to make another run down the path. It
was only when I was winded that I was given the opportunity to rest. I always
took advantage of the water and the food. The taste of the mash varied all
across the board from fruits to desserts to delicious vegetable and sauces. I
found that I needed to rinse the taste out of my mouth or it became annoying.
So I always finished with a sip of water.
Each time I pulled myself free of the feeding post the single
bell would ring a few seconds later. My marching would continue for some time,
enforcing the new role I was destined for and breaking my spirit in the process.
Since there were no clocks and I was so absorbed in the marching routine I had
hardly noticed that the sky had darkened. My marching had gone on for three
hours. Not long after the sky had darkened Paul returned. As I was signaled to
rest one last time. I was almost glad to see him. “Almost!”
Chapter 5
Christine’s day would end in a Spartan room tailored for
pony-girls. Just a short distance away from her training building sat a large multi-story
white building labeled Horwath processing center. Christine would have smirked
at the title. “So they named the place after our illustrious Prime Minister,”
she thought as she walked into the facility.
Paul kept a tight hold of her leash but Christine wasn’t
putting up any sort of fight. She walked obediently behind Paul’s left shoulder
as he had instructed. “Be docile and you’ll suffer less,” he told her.
Considering her experiences over the past several hours she concurred.
They reached her room by passing through several glass
partitions, each guarded by at least two attendants. Paul had to use his ID
card to verify his identity. The guard checked a computer screen and matched
his on file picture with his face. “Pass,” each guard would say.
The door to her room, another glass partition, slid open
triggering the room lights to come on. The room was fairly long, perhaps twenty
feet deep and ten feet wide. Along the right hand wall were a series of
cabinets, each locked. On the left was a bed, a chair, at table, and a toilet.
A pair of chains hung from the ceiling and the floor sported matching chains as
well. It became apparent to her that her “hanging around” days were not over
yet.
And that’s exactly where he led her, to the chains.
Instead of suspending her he connected the chains to her shoulder straps. When
he manacled her ankles at least she had some support.
“I’m going to strip you of all your gear. If you resist or
try to do anything stupid the alarm will sound and someone will be here in
seconds to subdue you. You don’t want to know the consequences of an escape
attempt. Do I have your word that you won’t fight me?” he asked with that
serious look in his eye.
Christine nodded.
“Please send in the attendants,” he said loudly to the
wall behind him.
A short time later two females clad in latex like the
first two that she had seen arrived. “Silent and gagged,” Paul noted. “The perfect domestics!”
Paul closed the door and told the girls to strip her. They
were well trained, knowing to keep the victim’s legs and arms bound as often as
possible without risking harm to her. They started with the arm binder,
removing the bag and attaching her wrists to the chains. “They won’t suspend
you if you don’t fight them,” he informed her. Christine cooperated fully and
allowed the girls to lift her arms up above her head.
The remaining gear was simple to remove. A few clasps or
straps were all that stood in the way of removing the gear. The girls even had
clippers available for the lacing that had been used on the boots and collar.
The clasp was cut and the item was removed. They even removed the dildos. They
used a plastic bag to collect them along with a
oversized sterile wipe to cleanse the area and treat it with lotion. One girl
approached with a lighter leather collar which she wrapped around Christine’s
neck and locked with a padlock.
“Thank you,” Paul said as the girls left. “They work
pretty quickly, don’t they?”
Christine nodded.
“Well I suppose you want that gag out of your mouth.”
Christine nodded again.
“You’ll keep a civil tongue?” he asked.
She nodded again.
“You’ll let me put it back in tomorrow morning?”
Christine stared at him for a moment.
“Well?”
She nodded.
“Good girl. You know I can insert it into your mouth no
matter how much you resist, right?”
She again nodded.
“I tire of seeing you just nod or shake your head. I think
I’d like to hear your voice for a while.”
It didn’t take long to remove the gag. Just a simple small
padlock in the back and a small socket screw allowed the spoon to be extracted.
“Better?” he asked.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll get you out of these chains if
you promise to be good.”
“I promise. I know I can’t fight you and I don’t want to
be hurt anymore.”
“I understand,” he said as he knelt down to release her
feet from the chains. He left the leather cuffs in place. “We’re going to leave
the cuffs on your ankles and wrists until we can trust you. Standard
procedure.”
“I don’t mind. Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“Why am I here? What did I do that made the State put me
in here?”
“The truth?” Paul asked.
“Please!”
“You accidentally insulted vice chancellor Godfrey’s son. He
got drunk and started bitching to his uncle.”
“Who happens to be the Prime Minister?”
“Correct.”
“I don’t remember ever insulting anyone in the royal
family. Wait a minute. Now I remember. The bastard felt me up so I kicked him in
the balls. But that happened three years ago!”
“As I understand it there was permanent damage. You know
our society and how insulting it is for a woman to take away a man’s virility. That’s
when he decided to take you out of circulation. Did you notice that all the
cases you’ve been assigned were ones you couldn’t possibly win?”
“Well, they were all guilty. I did my duty. I defended
them just enough so they wouldn’t bitch.”
“True, but once you’re on the list,
you’re on the list forever.
“Dammit! You mean this is all because of an incident that
happened three years ago?”
“In part. The PM kept getting complaints
from the judges who presided over your cases. They thought you were really
arguing to win. You know how they appreciate anyone trying to defend a traitor.
It was they that actually got you thrown on the list. The PM didn’t agree to it
until two months after the incident. That judge Parson said he wanted first bid
on you! He’s the one that insisted you be put on the waiting list. Because of
your status in the community some of your friends in government kept pulling
strings for you so you wouldn’t have to serve. They fought hard but they
couldn’t put it off forever. That’s why it took three years for your number to
pop up.”
“Well, can’t someone get me out of this?”
“You’re a lawyer. Once the State decides a case what
should a good lawyer do?”
“Walk away. The State gets what the State wants,” she
repeated the State’s mantra of law in a monotonous tone.
“Correct. I know it’s tough but you’d be best to drop the
idea of getting out of this. You have six weeks of very difficult training
ahead of you.”
“More marching?”
“Mostly. There will also be dressage
lessons. We’ll also teach you special steps so it looks like you’re performing
tricks.”
“Great!”
“At least you won’t be raped,” Paul noted.
“That is something.”
“When you go five years without sex you’ll change your
mind.”
“Five years?”
“That’s the average time before a girl’s given the
opportunity to move into domestic service.”
“You mean like those girls in the shiny outfits?”
“Those are just work outfits. I don’t insist on such
severe outfits at my ranch. I still gag our girls but we use open face hoods.
They look more like a diver’s hood.”
“Can I get something to eat? I haven’t had anything but
that mush all day.”
“Did you like the cheesecake?” Paul asked.
“Wonderful! I was thinking that you’d pump something like
ground oats into my mouth. But that stuff was awesome!”
“Let me get you something a little more substantial. How about a meatball sandwich?”
“OK,” she said.
“Gentlemen, would you please bring a meatball sandwich,
some fresh fruit, and my usual.”
A voice boomed over the PA. “Ten minutes.” Was all it said.
“Why were you so cruel to me earlier? Now you’re nice.”
“I’m sadistic when the need arises. This is sort of off
duty stuff. Your training is done for the day.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Being sadistic is part of the job. I’m a true sadist. By
that I mean that I like making women fear me.”
“You did it well. But if that’s true, why are we talking
civilly here?”
“Because now that you’ve accepted
your new role, there’s not much point to it. I know you’ll voluntarily become
a top notched ponygirl. You obviously will hate it but you know there’s no
other future for you. Why add to that? There’s no reason to break your will any
farther. You’re already broken.”
“What is that smell,” she said as the attendant brought in
the plastic tray.
“My favorite snack,” he informed her as she instantly
recognized the odor. “Liverwurst and Onions!”
Chapter 6
“It was you who pushed me down the hall,” she said.
“My wife says I should stop eating this stuff. It will rot
my insides,” Paul mumbled. He looked up from his sandwich. “Yes,” he said,
looking into her eyes.
“Why did you have to be so cruel?”
“Because scared women are
exceptionally cooperative. You did exactly as you were told without resistance.”
“I suppose I see your point.”
You know, you’re taking this very well. Most girls are
screaming at me or banging on the walls by this time. I don’t remember ever
having a girl simply accept her new role as well as you have.”
“Who said I’ve accepted it? I’m pissed!”
“I’m sure of it. You do seem relatively calm. At least we
don’t have to chain you to the floor and gag you.”
“Can I use the bathroom?”
“Sure. The entrance is on the far side of the last cabinet
behind you.”
“Oh, I didn’t see it.” As she walked to the entrance she
said, “There’s no door!”
“You weren’t expecting privacy, were you? Oh, and the
toilets are different than you’re used to. You face the back, not the front.
Mind your tail. If you get it caught on something you’ll feel it.”
“I suppose I’m going to have to get used to that,” she
thought as she sat down backwards on the toilet. There was a porcelain reading
stand on the back of the toilet. They even put a magazine rack beside it so she
could browse while straddling the seat. She saw issues of Home and Garden, Playboy,
and Equus Eroticus, a magazine dedicated to girls who liked to dress up like
horses. Somehow she figured she would look very much like them in short order.”
When she returned Paul told her that the wardrobe next to
the entrance was the only one unlocked. He pulled out a black silk robe for
her. “Don’t get used to covering yourself too much. Nudity and kinky clothes
are your forte from now on.”
As she slipped the silk robe on he surprised her with a
piece of information she wasn’t expecting. “Feel free to wander down the hall.
There’s a lounge and a cafeteria. You’ll be here six weeks so make some
friends. You’ll be training beside them eventually.”
“The door’s not locked?”
“This door isn’t. The security gates at either end of the
loop are though. You can’t escape.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Most girls don’t plan an escape. They just seize the
opportunity when it arises. My suggestion is to avoid the temptation to jump at
any of these opportunities.”
“Thanks.”
“I have three other girls I have to visit before the night
is out. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t stay up too late. You’ll be back in
harness at seven.”
After Paul left Christine stared out the window. Her
natural instinct forced her to examine the glass. First she noticed that it
didn’t feel like glass. And the next thing she noticed was that it was ten
inches thick. She had never seen glass this thick in all her life. The one
thing she realized was that these windows would never break, not even in a hurricane.
It was nearly dark so she couldn’t see much. In the
distance she saw searchlights but there were none around the building she was
in. In fact she was surprised at how few lights were in the compound. With the
number of prisoners she suspected resided in this complex she expected more
security. If it was there it was well hidden.
Somehow they had taken her to the second floor. She suddenly
remembered the ramp she had been led up. Her room faced north toward the
mountains. In the distance she could see
Christine quickly tired of staring out a window she could
not escape from and decided to take Paul up on his suggestion. Barefoot she
walked toward the glass door. It opened without the slightest touch. “Thank
you,” she said to the door.
The hallway was somewhat circular. As she glanced down the
hall she could see that the glass doors dotted each side every forty feet or
so. To her left she spotted an area that looked different. The wall was made of
many glass panels. She had found the cafeteria.
As she approached the entrance a girl bound with chains on
her hands and feet hobbled right into her. They nearly fell. “Whoa,” Christine
said.
The girl was roughly five feet three and had short blonde
hair. Around her neck she wore a wide leather collar. Her hands were bound by
leather manacles and her ankles had leather cuffs. Like Christine she was barefoot
and wore a silk robe, hers being gold in color. It was obvious to Christine
that she had been bound after putting on the robe because she wore a leather
belt around her waist.
“Who are you?” the girl returned, looking frightened.
“I’m Christine.”
“You’re not wearing chains. Did they break you?”
“My trainer said he trusted me.”
“Hi,” a girl dressed in a pink robe said. She had just
come from her room down the hall.
“Hi. I’m Charlie, she said.”
“This is Carly. You looking for something to eat?” she asked,
ignoring Carly for the moment.”
“I just ate but I wouldn’t mind meeting everyone.”
“Are you OK, Carly?” Charlie asked.
“I suppose,” she said with the slightest hint of a forced
smile.
“Let’s get a cup of coffee,” Charlie offered.
Carly had trouble walking due to the eighteen inch chain
between her ankles. Her hands were connected by a four inch length. Because the
two chains were connected by a third chain running through a steel loop in the belt
around her waist she couldn’t bring her hands up past her breasts while
standing.
The three girls
found a table in the large eating area. Each table was circular and could
accommodate four girls. The tables were roughly a foot higher than normal and
extending from underneath like spokes of a wheel were padded pipes that the
women would use as seats.
Christine spotted a girl in a waitress’s outfit.
“Waitresses?” she asked.
“It’s a cafeteria. What did you expect?” Charlie replied.
“It’s a prison! There aren’t waitresses in prisons!”
“This is a processing center, not a prison. There are lots
of things that are different here.”
“You’re telling me! How long have you been here?”
Christine asked Charlie as she glanced at Carly.
“Three weeks. Trial lasted two minutes!”
“How about you?” she asked Carly.
“Huh?”
“How long have you been here?”
“Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe four days.”
“You need to chill,” Christine said as she saw Charlie
signal for the waitress.
“I don’t belong here,” Carly cried.
“Well you’ve got company. Hey, don’t worry. We’ve got our
own little girls club going here. We’ll have a ball together. Talk about old
boyfriends. Come on. Cheer up!”
“It’s hard to do with these on,” she said raising her
bound wrists.
“Maybe we can take them off for a…”
“Hold it!” Charlie said sternly. “Do not touch her chains
unless you want to find yourself in a world of serious hurt.”
Christine immediately pulled her hands back. “Yea, don’t
touch the chains. Only my trainer can remove them. If you even try they’ll whip
you until you bleed.”
“Paul wouldn’t…”
“Paul? Paul is my trainer too,” Carly said.
Just then the waitress came over. “Can we see a menu?”
Charlie asked. “Our new friend is just starting out.”
“Hi,” Christine said.
“I’m Janet. First day?”
“Yea.”
“They usually chain us for the first week. You must have
really impressed your trainer. I only ever saw one other girl be left free on
day one. What can I get you?”
“Coffee?”
“No problem.”
“Same here,” Charlie replied.
“How about you, Carly? Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“You should eat something. Hey, didn’t you say you were from
“Yea.”
“I have something special for you. Be right back,”
“You’re not from around here?” Christine asked.
“No. I was touring your nuclear plant with the IAEC when
they said that I had a phone call. They told me that my mother died and I needed
to head home. They blew up a limousine that looked just like the one they sent
for me. They claimed it was rebels.”
“I remember that,” Christine said. “I was one of the
people calling for the head of the rebel leader.”
“I’ve got a news flash,” Charlie said.
“What?”
“There is no rebel leader. In fact there are no rebels.”
“I’ve seen the news reports. I’ve seen the damage.”
“Our own government is doing it.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? To hide the
kidnappings and murders. The rebel leader is our own Prime Minister.”
“How do you know this?” Christine asked.
“Because I was one of the secret service operatives that
helped carry out the orders.”
“So they made you a pony-girl.”
“It’s not fair!” Carly said.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Just then the coffee arrived. The surprise for Carly was a
giant soft pretzel and a cup of lemon Italian ice. Her eyes immediately lit up.
“Oh my God! I haven’t had one of these in two years.”
She immediately ripped off a small piece of the warm pretzel and stuffed it in
her mouth. She just closed her eyes and smiled. Charlie and Christine giggled.
Carly grabbed the cup with both hands and lifted the straw
to her mouth. She had to shuffle her legs around to give herself enough slack.
“Is it any good?” Christine asked.
“Oh yea!” she replied.
“It’s about time you broke out of your slump,” Charlie
said. “I was about to give up on you.”
Carly kept her lips wrapped around the straw and smiled.
“So what did you do for a living?”
“Lawyer,” she replied sipping her black coffee. She made a
funny face. “I need sugar,” she said.
The pedestal in the center of the table held a number of
small bins, one of which held sugar packets. Carly grabbed a few and handed
them to Christine.
“Thanks. I need a spoon,” she said.
“No utensils allowed,” Carly said. “Use a straw.” Carly
pointed to the dispenser.
“Creamer is in the other bin too if you like.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Lawyer, huh! Why would they want a lawyer to be a pony?”
Charlie asked.
“Well, let’s put it this way. I don’t think they were
interested in my mind.”
The comment drew a good laugh.
The girls talked for some time. Christine was curious
about the pretzel so Carly offered her a piece. They ordered two more and sat
for an hour drinking coffee and eating soft pretzels. They got to be good
friends in that short time.
“So who gets the check? I left my wallet at home,”
Christine said.
“Check? Oh, you’re funny,” Carly said.
“I don’t get it.”
“No you don’t. The State gets it. Just charge the bill to
uncle Siggy,” Charlie said, referring to Sigfield Horwath, the PM.
Christine waited for the opportunity to speak then asked,
“I was warned that I shouldn’t try to escape.”
“That’s no lie,” Charlie said. “Don’t even try unless you
like being someone’s dog for a couple week.”
“Dog?” she asked.
Carly opened her eyes. “You’ll see them. They put the
girls in a rubber cat suit and make them act like dogs for a week. They have to
eat without the use of their hands, they have to fetch sticks and balls and
they have to bark. It’s horrible.”
“And they can’t stand up for the entire time. They have to
crawl around all the time. They even sleep in a cage,” Charlie added.
“Jesus!”
“Yea, you said it. I hated it!” Charlie said.
“You got caught?” Christine asked.
“Third day,” she replied. “The opportunity looked too good
to be true. They left a truck unattended. All I had to do was hide in the back
and wait till I got past the gate. Well, they were watching me all the time. In
fact, I found out that they set traps just so they can have a nice stock of
pets for the kinky minded upper class!”
“Are you saying that they want us to escape, just so they
can put us in these kinky outfits?” Christine asked.
“No. They want us to try. These guys get their jollies by
playing mind games with us.”
The lights-out signal sounded at ten. Three sets of double
bells sounded. “Time to call it a night, Carly said. See you tomorrow
afternoon.”
“I thought we are supposed to get up early. Don’t we get a
chance for breakfast?”
“Oh, we get breakfast but not the way you think. We get it
spooned to us.”
“Through the gags?” Christine asked.
“Part of the training. We’re supposed to get used to it.
It’s supposed to be part of our subjugation process,” Carly said.
“Well, I learned a long time ago you can’t fight the
State. If they want you to act a certain way you’d better comply. I know the
role I have to lead now. I don’t like it but I don’t have a choice.”
“That’s an impressive change of attitude for a girl on her
first day here. You’re a lot smarter than you look. It’s a shame most of these
girls aren’t there yet. Or at least they haven’t learned how to act the part,”
Charlie said. “Notice all the other girls with manacles? They aren’t used to
it. Some have worn them for four weeks.”
“I thought they were supposed to come off after one.”
“They usually
come off after one week. That doesn’t mean they will. They keep them on as long
as they feel we need them.”
“I guess I’m past that phase.”
“You better hope so.”
Chapter 7
Paul:
Handling two ponies at the same time wasn’t as hard as one
would think. My domestics knew the routine and a SWAT team was available should
the girls resist. Since each room was monitored via remote camera I had no
doubt that the girls would be prepared efficiently.
Carly was almost totally cowed by now. After the first two
days of fighting with the crew she’d become sheepish on day three and four.
Today I intended to leave her out of chains and see what happened. But I did
want to talk to her first.
Christine was another matter. I was absolutely floored by
her submission. I suppose her experience as a defense attorney taught her the
futility of changing the State’s mind. She obviously didn’t like her fate but
she knew there was no way out of it. Still, there was something eating at me
about her. Perhaps she was being shrewd. I had the feeling that she’d be a
bolter. Well, we had methods for dealing with that.
That morning I was up early to check on Carly and
Christine. After today I’d just let the domestics prepare them. I found Carly
in her bed naked with only a sheet on her. Her belt had been removed but her
hands and feet were still bound together.
The sound of the door sliding open woke her. “Good
morning,” I said.
“Is it time already?” she asked.
“Soon. I wanted to let you know that
we’re going to leave the chains off this afternoon.”
“Thank you. I promise not to fight anymore.”
“Good. I want you to keep that promise. I’ve been ordered
to put you in the kennel if you fight the girls anymore.”
“What? I thought that was only for girls that try to
escape!”
“It’s for anyone who we feel need it. If you fight again
with our team, well, that will be proof enough. Clear?”
“Clear,” Carly said, her voice trembling.
I held her in my arms as she sat next to me. “Don’t
disappoint me. I don’t want that for you.”
“Don’t put me in that dog outfit!” she cried.
“Then you better prove to us that you make a good pony.
Understood?”
“Yes!”
The girls arrived as if on cue. I told them to prepare her
as normal, indicating that she promised to be cooperative. As a test they
removed her hobbles before leading her into the bathroom for her preparation.
It appeared as though Carly was actually submitting as she had promised she
would.
By the time I had arrived in Christine’s room the process
had already started. Christine was naked except for her wrist and ankle cuffs.
The girls, two latex clad women, had taken her into the bathroom and connected
her wrists to a hanging chain. Her feet were linked to a staple in the floor.
With her arms held loosely above her head the job went quickly.
First they gagged her with a red ball gag. They removed
her collar and began washing her body and hair. When she was totally lathered
they turned on an overhead spray nozzle that was as wide as her entire body.
She was rinsed in seconds.
Once she was clean on the outside they proceeded to clean
her insides. As before a soapy cleaning solution was pumped into each opening.
Once that was complete she was plugged with the electronic dildos and taken
down from the chain. The gag was removed on my order.
I watched as she walked awkwardly. “I hate these things,”
she said, adjusting the belt that went between her legs.
“They work though, don’t they?” I replied, leaning against
the wall of the bathroom.
“I suppose.”
“If you promise not to resist we’ll put the gear on
freeform. Otherwise you’ll be suspended.”
“I promise,” she replied.
“Ladies. Freeform it is.”
Christine:
I know they wanted to humiliate and break me. That was the
reason for the gag and the dildos. Shocking me between the legs or in the ass
was an evil thing to do to anyone, let alone a woman. But besides carrying
these one pound rods inside me the flushing out process using that strange hose
really annoyed me. Didn’t they know I could use a bathroom?
Paul let me get dressed without being hung from the
rafters like I had been on day one. It went faster too. The latex twins, as I
had started to call them, knew exactly where to get each item. The cabinets
along the far wall opened to their touch. They just took their gloved thumb and
pressed it into the indentation above the handle.
They knew each other’s moves as well. One would get the
boots while the other would get the corset. It only took a couple minutes to
lay everything out on the bed. Once it was laid out they waited for Paul’s
orders.
“Stand up,” he ordered me.
Once I did the redhead girl, noted only by the ponytail
sticking out of the top of her black latex hood, placed the corset around my
body. I immediately noticed that it had no laces. Instead it had straps similar
to a straight jacket. The corset went on just like the day before. First they
put it under my armpits and tightened the straps just to hold it in place. Then
they used the special tool to tighten the straps. I could hear the ratchet
working as I felt one area after another pulled to maximum constriction. I could
hardly breathe when they were done.
“Beautiful,” Paul said.
“When she’s ready put her on the chains just for support.
Don’t suspend her. I’ve got to check on my other pony. I’ll be back in half an
hour.”
“You train Carly, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Well, if you’re curious, she didn’t have a good start.
Fought and screamed on days one and two. That’s why she was kept in her
hobbles. I’m letting her out today but I’m not going to stand for that sort of
stuff for long. If she doesn’t make any progress in a week we’ll have to take
stronger steps.”
“She’s scared,” I offered.
“Everyone’s scared. And I’m aware that our girls panic and
fight. It’s almost guaranteed that will happen at some point. Hell, I expect
you to fight me somewhere down the line. The correct thing to do is take swift
corrective measures to put the girl in a better controlled environment. And
that’s what we do.”
“Chains and manacles won’t help a panic stricken person.”
“I’m aware of that. But they will prevent them from hurting
anyone, especially themselves.”
I was starting to get worked up as the posture collar was
wrapped around my neck. Besides, I wanted to know about the dog stuff. I’m not
sure why but I was curious.
“Does the dog scene help cure panic too? Is that why you
put girls in dog suits and march them around?”
“In part, yes, if you must know. They can’t do anything
but crawl and bark for a couple week. They’re kept
bound and gagged all that time. Once we have them in that suit they’re only too
happy to get back to marching. It’s far more degrading than the way we treat
our good girls. We give them perspective.”
“Jesus, you’re a sadist!”
“I told you I was. I wasn’t lying.”
“You have it down to a science.”
“Yes, we do. I actually was given an honorary degree by
our Prime Minister for the art of attitude adjustment. Enough talk. I’m keeping
Carly waiting. Let the girls do the work. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Paul:
When I got back to Carly’s room things had gone well. She
was in her outfit wearing everything but the bit and bridle. She was standing
in her heels, arms held in a tight leather arm binder. To keep her from falling
the girls had connected her collar to the twin chains that hung from the
ceiling.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Carly, this is your life now. It’s important that you let
things happen. Don’t resist,” I reminded her.
“I understand. Let’s get on with this.”
I took the bridle and put the spoon to her mouth. She
hesitated for a moment then opened wide. The bit seated against the corners of
her mouth. “Bite,” I ordered.
Once her bridle was fully buckled about her head I ordered
the girls to take her to serpentine path 6. This would be her second day on the
path. There she’d march for ten minute intervals. Then she’d be allowed to rest
for two minutes on benches that were laid out around the paths. She’d continue
the pattern for two hours before being returned to her room for a shower and
lunch. She’d been through this routine twice already. Between the corridor
training and the serpentine paths, her training would eventually break her. She
would be a fantastic pony.
I returned to Christine’s room and inserted the spoon in
her mouth. As expected she didn’t resist in any way. The only problem I had was
that we still didn’t have the full headgear for her. We were still dealing with
a single strap. I was told that she’d have one for the afternoon march. Since
she was so submissive I was of the mind to put her on the paths this afternoon.
I was not sure that was wise at that point so I didn’t reserve a slot for her.
Another day in the marching hall would be just as good for her.
My day was spent watching the remote cameras. Carly and
Christine seemed to be doing well. I was almost certain that Carly would bolt.
But she didn’t. In fact she marched very well. She had a beautiful gait that
didn’t fade as she tired. Christine, on the other hand, was awkward in her
stride. She wasn’t exactly horrible but neither was her performance the most
beautiful march I’ve ever seen. I thought her timing and poise improved
significantly with each trip up and down the path. By the time their sessions
had ended I was fully impressed.
I met Carly back in her room just as she had finished
showering. Putting my hands on my hips I just smiled and stared at her as her
naked form emerged from the shower.
“What?” she asked.
“That was something!” I said.
“It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
“More than I wanted. You have a magnificent style and
grace to your step. I was very impressed.”
“Thank you,” she replied sheepishly.
“Come here,” I said, holding my arms out to her. I kissed
her on the forehead. “As a reward I suppose we can do without the chains from
now on. I don’t think you’ll mind, will you?”
“No. Thank you,” she said in a sweet voice as she looked
into my eyes.
“Let me check on Christine. I’ll see you this afternoon
for the after dinner march. Just do exactly as you did
just now and you’ll never have to worry about bad things happening. Just be
good,” I reminded her. I kissed her on the lips and walked out.
I met Christine in her room. She had showered and was just
putting on her robe in front of the window. “So,” I said out loud so she could
hear me, “you’re an exhibitionist!”
She turned around embarrassed and red-faced. Then she
giggled.
“How are your feet?” I asked.
“Sore.”
“The heels take some time to adjust to. Carly’s waiting in
her room. I think she’s waiting for you.”
“I’ll head right over. Have you seen Charlie?” she asked.
“No, not my pony. I’m sure she’ll find you though.
She’s a pretty motivated little pony. Got a lot of energy.”
“She’s fun to talk to. I like her.”
“Me too. If I had the funds I’d put all
three of you in my stable.”
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”
“I run a well respected stable. If my request is approved
you’ll see so personally.”
“I suppose that’s better than being under that bastard’s
thumb that put me on the list.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. You see, a few
things happened over the past few days that you’re not aware of. Would you like
an update?”
“Please,” she replied.
“I didn’t tell you but Phillip is, or rather was, my best
friend. I grew up with him before we both moved here. The problem was that his
sadistic streak was even more ridiculous than mine and he hurt people. Well,
sometimes you have to cut out the cancer before it’s too late.”
I walked up to her and put my lips to her ear. “He was
assassinated yesterday, not an hour after he made out his will. You’d never
guess who gets the rights to you?”
She pushed me away and stared at me. I put my finger to her
lips. “This stays with us. I saved your life. You owe me.”
“You’re a treacherous man!” she said.
“I’m smart too. Since he willed you to me I get a second
pony for my retirement gift. I’m taking Carly.”
She looked stunned. “Well better the devil you know,” she
replied.
“I am a devil,
aren’t I?” I said in my false English voice.
Epilogue
Six weeks later my retirement party was held at the
Campanera Inn near my own ranch. The Prime Minister himself attended. After my
twenty-five years of loyal service to the State they were pulling out all the
stops. Dignitaries from every prefecture attended. The food was excellent. The
conversations were boring until the drinks loosened a few tongues. As the night
wore on the party became loud. We had a great time!
The Prime Minister himself presented me with the reins to
the two girls. Each girl was dressed in black latex from head to foot with
ornate versions of their training outfits adorning their bodies. The corsets
were silver as were all the straps around their heads. Their tails were brushed
and sprinkled with silver flecks. From their heads large silver plumes rose two
feet above their heads.
As his own personal gift he had a large ornate carriage
made in my honor. He explained that he designed the propulsion system himself.
He knew only a large squad of girls could pull this heavy contraption. And
since I couldn’t afford an eight or ten girl team he added a motor to assist. I
thanked him immensely for his forethought and commented on his creativity.
When the girls were rigged to the cart I offered the Prime
Minister the first ride. “We’ll go together,” he said.
***
Carly and Christine spent the next fifteen years as
ponies. Their lives had become something that they had never anticipated. The
skills of their past lives meant nothing to them now. All that was important to
them was the quality of their march, the beauty and grace of their stride, and
the totally submissive attitude they had to display at all times.
Paul let them pull him through town daily. Due to the
rising cost of gasoline he sold his car and used them exclusively for
transportation. He talked to them often, enjoying their company. Christine even
offered him legal advice for small favors that he was only too happy to
accommodate in return.
His wife appreciated their quality. She entered Carly in
the pony show and won third prize on her first showing. She also considered
training Christine but after seeing her lack of skill she abandoned that idea.
Carly rose through the ranks and won prize after prize for her poise and
beauty.
But eventually their pony days were a thing of the past. Paul
moved them to the domestic training program and was rewarded with two new
ponies. Carly and Christine spent several years working in the very facility
they had been trained in. Now gagged and wrapped in latex daily they worked as
a team under various trainer’s orders to indoctrinate other women into the role
of pony slaves.
At the age of fifty they were given a sum of money and
placed in a gated community. The idea of enslavement was still not widely
accepted throughout Horwathia. But the trend was leaning that way. Around the
country more and more girls were seen pulling carts. The government even leant
out ponies for exhibition and transportation. The taxi services started weaning
themselves off of automobiles, finding the cost of gasoline prohibitive. Ten
years after the girls were retired the idea was completely accepted.
Carly had been taken to the facility two months prior to
Charlie and Christine arriving. Carly had established a small business selling
leather boots for women. She had done quite well, even providing some of the
more ornate pony boots. When the three had been reunited, they hugged each
other and cried.
“I like your outfit,” Charlie stated staring at Carly’s
riding boots and jodhpurs.
“Thanks. It’s a pretty common item. You’ll need a set
yourself,” she replied.
“Why?” Christine asked.
Carly held them in suspense as they walked through the
train station. As they came around the corner of the building Carly pointed to
a waiting cart. In front of it were two pony-girls. “Check out our new wheels!”
The End
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