Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get The Blues

The story so far:
(Ch. 1) Jessica’s and Kate’s escape, punishment and return.
(Ch. 2) A week of devious torments. Jessica has to make a decision.
(Ch. 3) Jessica is trained, and graduates as a ponygirl.
(Ch. 4) Ray is injured, Kate rescues him and takes him to the Lodge. Karen Galtz, an investigative journalist arrives on the island.
(Ch. 5) Kate proves her nursing skills. Jessica suffers from Ponygirl Blues.

THE MEDICAL SUITE

“Kate, it’s your turn to watch Ray while I get some sleep.” Master Alex whispered, shaking Kate gently from her sleep. It was 4 am.

“Uh? W-w-what?” Kate sleepily replied, her eyes barely open. “Ray... Yes... I’ll watch him now.”

Master Alex helped Kate to her feet and led her to a chair next to Ray’s bed chaining her cuffs to its wooden backrest. “Just call out if you need me,” he said sleepily, stripping off and falling into the warm bed Kate had vacated.

Kate sat in the instrument-illuminated darkness, contentedly watching over Ray, listening to his breathing, and occasional snores from Master Alex. The air-conditioning was slightly cool for her naked skin. Although her nipples were still secured within their metal hats she knew that they were hard, expanding fully in their little housings. How nice it would have been, she thought, to quietly play with herself while watching the two men sleep. But the cuffs locking her hands to the chair’s back denied her that simple pleasure. It had a double purpose, denying not just her escape, but her pleasure too.

They couldn’t restrain her thoughts however. Those thoughts were not of escape and freedom but of the previous night when Alex had taken her across the toilet seat. She shivered with pleasure at the recollection, frustrated that she was unable to attend to her pussy’s sudden need to be touched.

Behind her, with its fan still humming, was the computer from which Master Alex had tapped into invaluable medical advice. Its internet access, connecting the island the outside world, did not escape her notice. Smiling to herself, Kate wondered whether she might be permitted to check her email. Probably not, she conceded.

TOAST

Pedro the milkman arrived at the medical suite around eight in the morning, prior to embarking on his usual round of the island. He was a man that Kate was always glad to see - the only one that could relieve the weight of her growing breasts. Master Alex brought Pedro up to date with developments regarding Kate; although there was little that the milkman hadn’t already heard through the grapevine.

Pussy-girls, Pedro knew, could not stay in lactation. He said he was disappointed to lose a ‘young and promising milker’ - a comment that caused Kate to smile. He muttered pessimistically to Alex about not being able to meet his yield projections.

Kate assumed her usual milking position on the floor, legs crossed with the receptacle nestling between her thighs. Pedro quickly tied her ankles together with a leather strap, out of habit rather than necessity. Next came the part that all the milkmaids loved - when Pedro clipped through the wires that fastened the nipple caps to their breasts and pulled the wire out of the piercing. After cleaning each nipple with an antiseptic wipe, giving them quick ‘wake-up’ squeeze, he attached the suction pumps.

The electric motor hummed into life. Kate sat back and relaxed, enjoying the feel of the sucking action on her breasts and the way it permeated down to her sex. Contentedly she watched her milk leaving her body and collecting in the clear pouch that nestled between her calves and her protruding mound. Pedro switched off the machine sooner than Kate expected, much to her disappointment. Surely, she thought, he must have known there was still more milk left in her breasts!

Shortly after her milking Kate was enjoying a light breakfast by herself in the medical suite. Enjoying would be an understatement; the joy of being able to use a real knife to butter her toast was almost overwhelming. Although alone and unfettered she knew she was being watched by the CCTV so was on her best behavior. It was obviously a test, although sitting down enjoying a nice breakfast was not a difficult challenge.

She heard the noise of pony-boot bells, a sound that always perked up a bunny because it signalled that feeding time was imminent. She laughed to herself when she noticed her mouth watered even though breakfast was on a tray in front of her. A Pavlovian response, Jessica had once told her. Something to do with dogs apparently.

Looking out the window, she recognized Frank and his ponies, Sandra and Cathy. They were not on the breakfast run, but were returning from the jetty. Sitting alongside Frank was Dr. Schmidt.

Master Alex had mentioned that Dr Schmidt would be back at the Lodge during the morning but Kate hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Suddenly her appetite had gone. The remains of the toast remained uneaten. Had she really diagnosed Ray’s injuries correctly? Was his broken arm properly set? She feared if the doctor disapproved of her performance she would be thrown into the punishment cells.

The doctor breezed in and after a quick greeting he commenced questioning Master Alex about Ray’s condition and treatment. Alex did his best to explain; sometimes failing to find the right terms, so Kate interjected periodically until it was she giving the patient’s history. Despite Kate’s occasionally nervous explanations the doctor seemed satisfied with Ray’s treatment thus far, bringing a sigh of relief from both her and Master Alex.

Kate's brief role as a nurse had ended with the Doctor’s arrival. Handlers came to take her from the medical suite. She was taken to a plain, very bright room bathed in diffused natural light. The only thing in the room was a simple wooden chair with a high back and no arms. She sat down on it and looked around the empty room. She was alone, and what’s more she wasn’t chained or tied up in any way, her sex was free of the chastity belt, her nipples finally released from the metal caps that signified her milk belonged to others. It was as if she had been given back her body. Her hands soon found there way to those parts so long denied them. Just to feel her nipples and labia with her fingers was wonderful. If this was her only reward for rescuing Ray then it was worth it.

KATE BONDS WITH PUSSY-GIRLS

The door opened and Kate guiltily returned her probing fingers to her lap. Two pussy-girls and Kurt, one of the senior handlers, entered, making Kate feel outnumbered as well as under-dressed. As usual the pussy-girls were immaculate in their long white dresses with their tightly laced bodices. Kate saw that each girl carried coils of soft white rope, and knew that she would soon be wearing it.

While Kurt stood to the side offering quiet advice, the pussy-girls secured Kate’s wrists and ankles to the chair; ankles tied to each front leg and each wrist to the rear ones. A half-dozen tight wraps of rope on each limb then more bands tight around her waist and the chair-back ensured that Kate was going nowhere.

It was the way the pussy-girls looked at her body as they worked that made Kate sense that their task was not merely to tie her up. Lucy rubbed some shaving foam on Kate’s pubic hair. Her light growth was dealt with by a few rapid strokes of the razor, before being wiped clean with a tissue.

The pussy-girls knelt one to each side of her, their hands reaching to explore her body. Fingers soon found their way into Kate’s easily accessible pussy. She tugged anxiously against her bonds anxiously. Something about this didn’t seem right. Initially it seemed like a little harmless girl-on-girl action, quite sensuous as each pussy-girl’s lips started planting delicate kisses on her thighs. By the time their lips were against her ribs Kate began to worry about where it was leading.

“No!” Kate gasped as the two pussy-girl mouths captured her nipples. “No, this isn’t right. It’s not natural,” she pleaded, even as the milk was being teased through the ducts in her nipples. Unlike the impersonal suction of the milking machine she could feel demanding and insistent lips and teeth, sucking and nipping, greedily taking their fill from her breasts.

Kate’s tears trickled down her cheeks. “Please stop. I don’t like this,” she snuffled, her teary eyes pleading with Kurt; but the suckling continued relentlessly. Kurt stepped behind the chair, stroking Kate’s hair as if to comfort her. Then his hands cupped and squeezed her breasts to further stimulate the milk’s flow.

When the pussy-girls’ mouths finally released their grip on her teats Kurt’s fingers were there to take their place. He squeezed both at the same time, squirting Kate’s milk onto the face and chest of each pussy-girl. They both laughed and licked their lips.

“C’mon katie girl,” Lucy said sympathetically, “cheer up. It’s nothing to get upset about!” She dabbed the tears from Kate’s eyes with a white handkerchief before applying it to the splashes of milk on the top of her breast.

After the poor attitude and ungenerous spirit Kate had shown, Master Kurt gave her a severe lecture. She was still bound to the chair while he paced around menacingly around her, criticizing, cajoling, and browbeating her until she was once again in tears.

“I want to go back to the beach!” Kate cried, her tears splashing onto her bare breasts.

“No you don’t.”

“I do. I don’t want to stay at here any more. I couldn’t bear to be a pussy-girl.”

Master Kurt laughed heartily, as if to ridicule her. “Bunny kate. Do you really think you can pick and choose where you go every time something displeases you? Are we are here for your convenience? You will complete the remainder of the pussy-girl trial, like it or not. Failing that, we could accommodate you in the cells for a few weeks. With the start of the festival some fresh meat in the cells is always useful, but I don’t think you like that at all.

Kate knew that was true. When couple of dozen rich, sadistic perverts from around the world landed on Rabbit Island the cells were the worst place to be. It was as if each cell door had a sign on it saying ‘hurt me’.

The ever-reliable Erik arrived in the room to interrupt Kurt’s inelegant pep talk. Kate’s next appointment awaited her.

After being untied from the chair Kate was cuffed and hooded, then frog-marched through the seemingly endless corridors of The Lodge. They entered a room which had a distinctive echo. She was made to kneel down on the cool tiled floor. It was a public bathroom.

THE MEN’S ROOM

The hood was lifted off Kate’s head, revealing to her a row of toilet cubicles on the other side of the tiled room. To her left and right were several men’s urinals; alongside those, towards the door, were washbasins. With its hardwood fittings and marble surfaces, Kate observed that it was a very elegant place, the kind of washroom seen in a five star hotel.

Directly between her kneeling legs there was a small drain hole in the tiled floor. She realized that her position in the rest room was as much part of the design as any other fixture there.

Behind her Kurt and Erik were busy fitting Kate’s arms and neck into a stainless steel frame, adjusting the height of the vertical pole so that two semi-circular arms could be closed in on each side of her neck. They joined and overlapped to create a hasp and staple so that it could be secured with a padlock at her throat. Kate’s upper arms and wrists were fitted with similar clamps on the sides of the vertical pole. Clamps, she noted, not mere shackles, which left her wrists and elbows completely immobilized.

Kate was also fitted with ankle shackles, their chain passing behind the vertical bar to ensure she would remain kneeling on her shins. She looked around the room, just able to turn her neck within the rigid stainless steel collar. Looking down was not so easy; she could just barely catch sight of her nipples if she puffed out her chest.

Just as Kurt and Erik were leaving, pussy-girl Lucy entered the bathroom carrying a make-up bag. Kate found it a humiliating experience having someone else slapping make-up on her, as if she was somebody’s little toy. But that is exactly what she was. After applying a glossy red to Kate’s lips, black and lustrous blue on her eyes the pussy girl brushed Kate’s unkempt hair and pulled it into a high ponytail to keep it off her shoulders and face.

“See. You look much nicer now!” Lucy said, evidently pleased with her efforts. She held a tiny mirror a foot in front of Kate’s eyes. Kate studied the face in the mirror and had to agree. It was only good manners to thank the pussy-girl.

“Just because men are pissing on you, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look your best.” Lucy stated, wagging her finger. Very true, thought Kate, that’s a good motto for life too!

“Remember Katie - always be nice to the men. Stay cheerful. Chat to them; show them that you appreciate their pissing on you. It really doesn’t hurt. You’ll find most men will be very courteous towards you. Perhaps it’s because they feel a little guilty, or maybe it just seems odd having a woman in their men-only space. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t laugh at the ones with small dicks!”

Kate smirked, happy to share the joke and glad of the advice.

Pussy-girl lucy gathered up her things and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour to hose you down. That’s a promise.”

Kate was still adjusting to the vice-like grip of the urinal device when her first customer arrived.

“Good morning, Sir.” She called out to the man, determined to impress from the start.

The man, quite young and handsome and well groomed in a preppy way, was sheepishly looking around for a urinal to use but discovered yellow tape stretched across them to indicate they were out of order.

He returned her greeting, having realized that he was expected to urinate on the pretty blonde girl. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his flaccid cock in front of Kate’s eyes. She involuntarily swallowed with nerves and closed her eyes tightly. He looked at the wall above Kate’s head and read the sign.

“Gentleman. We respectfully ask that you
aim below the collar. A full range of
water sports is available in the cells. Please
contact the cell block supervisor.”

He watched Kate’s full round breasts rise and fall with her breath, then aimed his piss gently splashing onto them. Instead of recoiling Kate seemed to puff out her chest as if to catch the flow. He was glad that this beautiful girl kept her eyes closed and liked the way the pale yellow urine streaked down her slim belly and onto her sex, to make it seem as if she was pissing with him.

When the flow stopped Kate tentatively opened her eyes and saw the man was zipping up his pants. “You have lovely breasts. Too good for peeing on... I mean...not just your breasts...you as well...you’re very pretty. Will you be here later?” he asked, bumbling like an American Hugh Grant. At least a few hours she told him, but she didn’t know for sure.

Kate sensed she had an admirer. It wasn’t to be the last. There was something about a pretty girl in a urinal that made men fall in love with her.

“Hey Katie! How are you doing?” Lucy asked, breezing into the restroom an hour later. As promised she had her bucket and sponge and went to work rubbing vigorously on Kate’s breasts, belly and pudenda. Kate’s face was still dry and her make up immaculate.

“Been busy?” Lucy asked as she continued to rub.

“Ten, maybe twelve guys. They were no problem at all; but Lucy, my arms are aching terribly. Can’t you loosen my elbows just a little?”

“Can’t do, sis! They’re all locked in place. You just have to get used to it.” Lucy switched on a hose and sprayed Kate with cold water, causing her to shriek at the sudden chill. It rinsed all the soapsuds from her body. A brisk rub down with a towel left Kate ready for the next hour and the rest of the day.

BREAKFAST AT THE BUNNY CAMP

Karen Galtz watched from a safe distance as the bunnies were fed their breakfast. The seven remaining after Kate’s departure were kneeling along both sides of the long stainless steel tray long before the pony driver had arrived. The journalist’s zoom lens captured some great images: weak-willed women, utterly subservient to their masters, reduced to eating from a trough like farm animals. She sensed a great article in the making, with one of her photos as the magazine’s cover shot. Her zoom lens gave her a great view, but she was too far away to hear the conversation between the ponygirl driver and the bunnies.

When the coast was clear, the ponies and driver departed, and bunnies milling around after breakfast, Karen emerged from her cover a hundred metres away.

“Did he ask about me?” Karen asked Nancy.

“No. Why would anybody know you are here? It was Kate and me that rescued Ray. She may be a little attached to the guy but she’s not the type to open her mouth.”

The journalist breathed a sigh of relief. It meant she could have a good look around the island, take some more photos and jump on her midnight boat back to civilization. It was all going so well.

BEACH SOCCER

Something that Karen wasn’t expecting was to see was a bunny kicking a soccer ball along the beach. “Can you play?” Nancy asked.

“A little.” Galtz replied reticently. She didn’t see any need to tell them she was the star striker for her college team.

“Great. As you may have noticed we are one player short this morning. You’ll have to play in bare feet of course.”

“Sure!” Karen agreed, removing her hiking boots and socks and placing them tidily alongside her camera case. The rest of her possessions were in her rucksack, hidden alongside the trail when she was walking with Nancy the previous night. Though bare-footed, at least she was still wearing her khaki shirt and shorts. The bunnies envied her clothing. It was obvious from the way they looked.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Nancy added, as if she’d almost forgotten, “it’s only fair that your hands are tied while you play.”

Ms Galtz couldn’t very well object, knowing what an advantage she would have otherwise. Sumi, the Korean bunny held a short length of frayed rope, washed ashore from a fishing boat. Sumi’s dexterity surprised the journalist. She managed to knot the rope, despite her own wrists being cuffed behind her. “Is that all right for you?” Sumi asked, concerned that it was too tight.

Ms Galtz tugged gently at her wrists. “It’s fine,” she confirmed, more worried about keeping such a small piece of rope in place than escaping from it.

The day’s teams were agreed and the local rules explained to the visitor before they kicked off. Once she got the feel of the ball Ms Galtz started putting her skills to the test, but her unnecessary showing off didn’t endear her to either her opponents or her team-mates..

It wasn’t long before a well-timed shoulder charge from one of the bunnies sent Galtz flying head first, collecting a mouthful of sand as she landed. She tugged on her wrists expecting to break free of the little piece of rope that held them. She tugged a few more times then strained to move her wrists to one side so she could see them over her shoulder. Her wrists, she was surprised to see, were fixed as surely as if they were in handcuffs. She laughed at the absurdity of being tied up by a woman that was herself in handcuffs! Galtz liked the occasional bondage session, particularly with other women so really didn’t mind her predicament, knowing that she’d be untied as soon as the soccer game finished. The sunshine, pretty girls everywhere, the feel of the sand between her toes, soccer and bondage at the same time - it was actually a lot of fun.

GREAT SHOT!

It was when Ms Galtz was on the verge of scoring her fifth goal that she appeared to stumble, mis-kicking the ball as if she had no coordination at all, then collapsing like a felled deer in the sand. Just yards from the goal, the soccer ball beside her, Ms Galtz lay moaning in semi-unconsciousness with the seven naked bunnies surrounding her. A small tranquilizer dart was stuck in her shoulder.

“Sorry to ruin the game, girls,” a voice called out behind them. Two handlers arrived on the scene, one holding a rifle. Masters Tony and Vince were well known to all the bunnies.

“You don’t get commission for this,” Tony joked to Nancy.

“I don’t care. You can have this one for nothing.”

“Great shot, Tony.” Vince said, kneeling down to inspect dart’s entry point. “Let’s get her bound up. Riccardo should be here any time now.”

Using the thin leather strips that are also used for the ponygirls reins, they started to bind her. Nancy stood and watched. “She told me how she loves a really tight hog-tie,” she gleefully informed the handlers.

“She’s in luck, bunny nancy, that’s my specialty as you know only too well!” Tony winked at her while lashing Galtz’s elbows together. For Tony there were just two kinds of women in the world: those that could be bound with their elbows touching and those that couldn’t. He was pleased to discover that Ms Galtz was one of the former.

The two handlers bent the journalist’s legs back to her waist and tucked the long trailing cords from her ankles under the crossed wrist tie. Tony pulled the slack from the cords while the other handler lifted Galtz’s knees. It helped bring her ankles and wrists even closer together. A couple more loops were done to ensure a strong union of hands and feet then the trailing end of the ankle cord was tied off at her tightly bound elbows.

They had just fitted her with a ballgag when Ms Galtz was groggily returning to consciousness. She lifted her head from the sand and saw a pair of slim feminine legs in front of her. Craning her neck upwards, past the plastic cover over the woman’s sex and the straps that held it on, were small conical shaped breasts with their prominent nipples, and above them was Nancy’s smiling face.

“Is that tight enough for ya? I told them how you like your hog-ties good and tight!” Nancy’s pleasure was further enhanced by the sight of Ms Galtz squirming helplessly in the sand at her feet, pain etched on her face, fury at her betrayal evident behind her tears.

The harmonious jingle of pony-boot bells signaled the impending arrival of Riccardo and his ponygirls. Tony slipped the gun barrel under Ms Galtz’s elbow and wrist bonds. Vince gripped it, then they lifted, with Ms Galtz dangling helplessly beneath it. It was the easiest way to carry a hog-tied woman.

The bunnies followed the handlers to the pony trap, watching as they heaved Ms Galtz up onto the small trailer. While they were securing Karen Galtz in position, Riccardo inspected his ponygirls; watering them and wiping them with a towel on what was already turning into a sweltering day. The bunnies gathered around him, regaling him with the story of the soccer match and how suddenly Ms Galtz tumbled to the ground after being shot. Riccardo laughed, amused at their betrayal of another female. There was another reason for the bunnies gathering around the pony driver: As usual Riccardo had a little treat for the bunnies, tossing grapes from a paper bag for whoever could catch one in her mouth.

The two hunters stood by as the ponygirls strained to get their load moving, leaning gently against the back of the trailer to ease them into motion.

Nancy watched the pony trap disappear down the track, feeling just a little guilty about betraying the journalist. But then she smiled inwardly - tonight, at midnight, she would board a boat taking her away from Rabbit Island forever.

KEY HOLES

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Tony said, snapping Nancy out of her reverie. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!”

He snapped a surgical latex glove on his hand and poked his fingers in Nancy’s mouth probing around the gums, pressing deep into her cheeks, and toying with her large tongue stud. She’d had a tongue stud since her mid-teens but they’d replaced it with a bigger one when she arrived six months ago. The large metal ball on her tongue served as a constant humiliating reminder of her slavery.

Nancy hardly noticed as Tony slipped a pill on the back of her tongue as he searched her mouth. She swallowed, unaware that a powerful emetic was on its way to her stomach.

“Um... what’s going on?” Nancy asked, looking mystified as they placed a bucket on the sand in front of her.

“We’re looking for a key. Unless you tell us where it is we’ll have to continue your cavity search.”

“A key? What key? I don’t know what you’re talking about! What’s the bucket for?”

“You’ll find out very soon. It’s probably best if you kneel down now.”

Nancy’s stomach was already rumbling as she knelt by the bucket. She burped a foul-tasting gas and was becoming nauseous. “I feel sick,” she said quietly, failing to win any sympathy. The men stood by, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

She burped again. Her whole body seemed to gulp, then the liquefied contents of her belly gushed from her mouth and into the bucket. She gasped a huge desperate breath then wretched several more times. Groaning and exhausted, Nancy leant over the bucket, her face turned a ghostly white.

Tony held the ends of two twigs in his fist. Vince studied them briefly and picked one. He didn’t seem happy with his choice. Tony revealed the remaining twig, which was much longer than the one Vince had taken.

Without a word spoken Vince checked the contents of the bucket with his hand while Tony gave Nancy some water.

“The search continues...” Vince announced wiping clean his hand and chucking away the contents of the bucket.

Nancy had barely begun to recover when they lifted her to her feet and escorted her to the nearby whipping post. Vince fixed leather suspension cuffs around her ankles then each man lifted each ankle clipping them to sturdy rings on each side of the thick post. Nancy’s ankles were at shoulder height, slightly apart like a narrow V, while her cuffed hands and upper back rested on the sand.

“I swear I don’t know anything about a key!” Nancy protested weakly, looking upwards at her tormentors. “It must have been the journalist that took it...or Kate. What about bunny kate?”

“Maybe... but our job is to check you. You’re the prime suspect.” Tony started to unlock the webbing straps of Nancy’s chastity device, which in other circumstances she might have been glad about.

“We’ll start with a vaginal douche.”

He removed the pre-packed kit from its clear plastic wrapper and hung the liquid pouch from the top of the post. Pressing the shield firmly over her sex he released the clip on the tube.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it, nancy?”

It didn’t. Nancy lay quietly, sensing the fullness of the tepid liquid within her. That was until the fullness became a painful cramping and a stretch that she’d never known before. She was still too weak from her puking to protest.

Several minutes later they let her down from the whipping post, collecting the douche water in the cleaned-out bucket. She shared the handlers’ disappointment that a key was not discovered, even though it would have been a hell of a shock if they had found one!

Leaving Nancy laying miserable and exhausted on the sand, the handlers took a quick cigarette break and radioed back to The Lodge with their progress so far.

Cigarettes extinguished, they hauled Nancy’s exhausted body onto her feet, lifting her cuffed hands to head height behind her, thus compelling her to bend forward at the waist. Weak and subdued, she allowed her cuffed wrists to take more of her weight than was advisable and received a stinging slap on her thigh as a result.

“Stand up properly, nancy!” Tony commanded. She slowly gathered herself, redistributing the weight back on to her feet and off her straining shoulders.

It wasn’t just Nancy’s wrists that were attached to the iron ring at the top of the post; a large plastic pouch containing an enema solution also hung down, ready for action. Behind her Tony was preparing the enema nozzle, his finger coating it well with a jelly lubricant. The double-bulb nozzle was well suited for today’s purpose.

Nancy winced at the pain as she felt her sphincter opened by the invading enema nozzle until it contracted again, divided the nozzle’s inner bulb from its outer one. Tony squeezed the little pump in the palm of his hand, watching the outer bulb inflate while Nancy felt the inner bulb pushing insistently against her rectal walls. It only took a few pumps before her ass was plugged like a cork in a champagne bottle. Tony connected the nozzle end to the enema tube, and turned the little valve to the open position.

The soapy enema began to fill her bowels, gravity quickly transferring the liquid from the enema bag at the top of the whipping post into Nancy’s colon. Occasionally Tony would block the flow of the hose to allow the enema to settle within her. Nancy’s cries and protests were ignored. Vince stood with Nancy’s head pressed against his firm stomach; his hands were squeezing her small breasts, and enjoying her hardened nipples against his soft palms.

"Nearly there, babe.” Tony encouraged her. His hand reached down to massage her distended belly. Nancy moaned at the pregnant pain that had been visited upon her.

The enema flow stopped. The bag was empty and Nancy was full. Tony closed off the valve near the outer bulb and detached the tubes. They left her for fifteen minutes, bent over and chained, fighting the pain of the cramps in her distended belly. Nancy turned her head slowly from its downward facing position and saw Mike and Vince chatting and laughing with the six other bunnies. Vince was even sharing a lit cigarette with one of them. The laughter, Nancy knew, was directed at her.

The bucket containing her evacuated enema did not yield a key. Tony and Vince were disappointed that their dirty and unpleasant task had not produced the result they expected. Yet they still suspected Nancy was guilty, and in any other circumstance would have been whipping the truth out of her. However, because it was the day before the festival the bunnies were spared the whip, ensuring that visitors would find clean unmarked skin awaiting them.

Master Tony looked around suspiciously at the other bunnies. “Does anyone else know about the missing key?”

They shrugged their shoulders; no one had even heard about a missing key until they arrived to investigate.

“Perhaps they need some help remembering?” Vince suggested to Tony, a wicked grin on his face. “Maybe we should give them some time to think about it, it might help them to recall something.”

“Excellent idea, Vince. You’re right. Let’s give them a little time to think. D’you think if they had more blood flowing into their brains it would help them think better? Like if they were upside down?”

Vince fetched some bed sheets from the cabin and started to cut them into long strips. The bunnies were sat down in the sand beneath the large swing frame a short distance from the cabin. It was a long and very sturdy five-meter scaffold pole eight feet above the sand.

One by one the bunnies had their ankles tied together with the newly-cut strips of their bedsheets. They were begging Nancy to tell them where she had hidden the key before they were all made to swing. Nancy, in return, pleaded with them to believe her that she knew nothing about the missing key.

It seemed fitting that Nancy should be first to be hung up. They helped her to her feet then Vince bent down to put her in a fireman’s lift. He carried her underneath the scaffold bar. Tony took hold of the long trailing end of sheet around her ankles and tossed it over the bar then tied it back to her ankles again. Nancy was left swinging helplessly while they hauled the next bunny to her feet.

Soon all seven bunnies were dangling upside down in a neat row, all the while protesting their innocence and directing their anger at Nancy who was obviously to blame for their plight. She could do nothing to convince her fellow bunnies that she was as innocent as they were. Such was their anger that the two bunnies dangling on either side of Nancy started pushing her with their hands, forcing her to swing from side to side.

Vince intervened, securing their cuffed hands to a strip of sheet he tied around their waists.

If it wasn’t bad enough dangling upside-down in the midday sun the handlers had one more torment for the bunnies - what they jokingly called ‘pepper sauce’. Just a few drops on their labia was enough to drive the bunnies mad for hours with its maddening itching and burning sensation. The plastic cup of the chastity belts offered no protection against it as the liquid dripping between its air holes and onto the bunnies’ flesh.

There was a notable side effect of the pepper sauce, which was that squeezing the breasts could partly alleviate the hot itchiness of the labia. While the bunnies all squirmed like fish on a line Tony and Vince were glad to do their best to assist them. All seven bunnies were begging Tony and Vince that their breasts needed to be squeezed, scratched and mauled, their nipples bitten, anything at all to save them from the maddening itch. The men obliged as best they could whilst reminding the insistent bunnies that they only had two hands each.

All that breast squeezing had aroused Tony and Vince beyond all reasonable endurance. They both lowered their pants and revealed their aching and erect members. Two of the bunnies would spend the afternoon with their belly and breasts spattered with the handlers’ cum.

GALTZ INTERRUPTED

Karen Galtz didn’t exactly enjoy her journey to The Lodge. Her body strained and the leather cords digging into her as the pony trailer jogged rhythmically to the ponygirls’ steady pace. If it had been one of her bondage photo shoots she would have used her safe word/signal long ago.

The two mountain-bike style wheels of the trailer seemed to swish speedily along the gravel tracks to the accompaniment of the pony-boot bells, making Karen feel sleepy, despite her best efforts to stay alert. The journey did however confirm her belief about the superior quality of Rabbit Island ponygirls, even if she hadn’t planned to test them in quite this manner.

Nor was it the way she expected to first see The Lodge. She, or rather, the ponies were received as if her capture and subsequent transportation had been well planned. The ropes that held her fast to the pony trailer were unfastened. She was lifted, still in her stringent leather-corded hog-tie onto a handcart. Judging by the padded section for her knees the handcart seemed designed for this exact purpose. A strap was buckled tightly across Galtz’s back to keep her compressed against the cart’s uprights. A black cloth bag was then placed over her head, blocking out her vision.

A man tilted the cart and wheeled her into the Lodge, treating her no different than he would a sack of potatoes. The short journey took Ms Galtz into the administration block. The porter kicked something at the bottom of the handcart, which sprung open a metal arm to stop the cart from toppling over. It left Ms Galtz in an unusual position: an upright hog-tie securely strapped to the handcart, and ready to be wheeled around again wherever her captors might wish.

The room fell silent, but it wasn’t long before it filled with the sound of voices and the scraping of chairs on a wooden floor. Her cloth hood was pulled off, and adjusting to the light she focused on three men sitting at a wide desk in front of her. One of them was Master Alex. She vaguely recognized the face from somewhere.

Through her ballgag Ms Galtz began to plead her innocence in the strongest terms that her bondage would allow. The men looked at each other, smiling and shaking their heads.

“Do you have anything else to say on the matter?” One of them asked her.

She did, but that was just as garbled as her previous outburst.

Becoming weary of her incomprehensible ballgag-muffled voice, one of the men removed the large rubber ball from her mouth, buckling it loosely around her neck as if to indicate that she would soon be wearing it again.

“Karen Galtz?”

“Yes!”

“A Journalist?”

“Yes!”

“Employed by the Global News Corporation?”

She paused, surprised that they knew so much about her. “Yes!”

“Why are you here?”

She didn’t answer.

“Ms Galtz, we are not signatories to the Geneva Convention. We have all manner of tortures here to extract answers from you.”

She stared at them defiantly, watching as one of them brought a small box onto the table.

“Is it true that you have a phobia of spiders?”

“Yes,” she meekly replied, even before one of the men lifted his hand fully out the box she could see the hairy legs of a tarantula on his hand.

“Would you like to meet Cedric and his eight-legged friends?”

Ms Galtz was sweating, the blood visibly draining from her. Sheer terror etched on her face. “Okay! I’ll talk. It’s to do with your ponygirls.” Her voice changed to whining whisper. “Please, just put him away.”

Once Cedric was back in his box and Ms Galtz had calmed down, she began to explain.

“I interviewed a woman recently; a young woman who had lost her memory. She could barely remember anything after her fourteenth birthday, yet she appears to be about twenty-three years of age. She was discovered on a beach in Thailand, wandering naked and confused. But worst of all, her arms had been amputated at the shoulder.”

Up til then she hadn’t told them anything that hadn’t already been widely reported. They urged her to continue.

“She had a tattoo. A rabbit at the top of her thigh, just like your bunnies and ponygirls.”

This time the men were shocked. “And you think she came from here? It simply isn’t possible. All our captives have the tattoo removed or altered before being disposed of. Besides, what happened to that girl was utterly barbaric. It would never happen on Rabbit Island.”

“My initial research concurs with that statement. Rabbit Island doesn’t have a reputation for that kind of treatment, although the presence of the tattoo is confusing. If it can be shown that Rabbit Island is not involved with this woman I will drop all references to this place from my report. Now, if you would just untie me I can be on my way.”

“It’s not that simple, Ms Galtz. I think the phrase is ‘you’ve seen too much already’. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here as our guest until this matter is resolved. We have already made provision with your employer to keep you here for six months.”

She looked confused. “That’s impossible. I’ve a job to do.”

“Your employer was most accommodating, in fact he was of the opinion it would do you some good. Said you were becoming a ‘loose cannon’. Ms. Galtz, I read your recent article on ponygirls where you stated...here, let me read it to you....

“The cult of human equestrianism, whilst thousands of years old has acquired a growing following in recent times. Every weekend throughout the world people play with harnesses, are attached to homemade carts, making animal noises, and appear to derive fun from the experience. With its associations with leather, bondage, domination, submission and bestial role-play it’s easy to see that many kinky types would find much to amuse them in this fashionable activity.

A minority of the human ponies, males and females, are striving to capture a feeling that will forever elude them. Only if they were forced to be ponies against their will, with their liberty permanently denied them, would they truly experience the ‘ponyhood’ they desire. Despite their regular weekend playtimes, there are certain aspects of this anthropomorphic kink that will have to remain forever a fantasy.”

He put down the paper and grinned. “We’ve decided, Ms Galtz, that you should experience what you call ‘ponyhood’ for yourself, Rabbit Island style. Then you’ll know more of what you write about. After this meeting you will be taken to be pierced and tattooed. You’ll spend a week in the punishment cells, then you start pony training.” The Master turned to the handler standing nearby. “Joe, take our new recruit to the soft cells, and don’t forget the full body cavity search, we still haven't found that key.”

Gagged and hooded once more, Karen Galtz felt the handcart transportation tilt forward at an angle. She was wheeled away to commence her latest and most unexpected assignment.

KATE TESTED AGAIN

Late in the afternoon Kate was released from the urinal pole and taken to the same room in which she suffered the milking indignity that morning. Alone in the room and sitting on its only chair, her unbound hands were soon at her pussy. Those hours spent in the men’s room had taken its toll. She never dreamed she’d ever see so many penises in a single day! Any one of them probing between her labia right now would be welcome.

The door opened and Kurt entered with two pussy-girls. They were different ones from the morning, although no less pretty. The rope they carried was the same, so were the tight white dresses with the flowing skirts.

“Give bunny kate your rope,” Kurt told one of the pussy-girls. She cheerfully obeyed.

He took the rope from the other pussy-girl, turned her around and tied her wrists. “Tie her hands like this.” He instructed Kate, “and make sure it’s tight.”

Kate wasn’t used to tying up others but took to it almost instantly. Kurt wasn’t surprised - he knew that one who is herself regularly bound develops a good feel for how to do it to others. She tied her pussy-girl’s wrists as tightly as Kurt had done his, even eliciting an oddly satisfying ‘ouch’ from the pussy-girl as she tugged the final knot. Kurt seemed pleased. He and Kate then blindfolded their respective pussy-girls with soft white silk scarves.

It was a devious twist to the morning’s breastfeeding. This time Kate was not only consenting but initiating and controlling it. She helped the pussy-girls to kneel either side of her chair, caressing their hair, almost mothering them as she guided their lips to her nipples.

Master Kurt stood aside, careful to stay outside the view of the hidden video camera. He quietly watched and delighted in the sight of two delectable blonde pussy-girls, bound, blindfolded and helpless suckling from Kate’s swelling breasts. Kate, he thought, was showing all the signs of making the grade as a pussy-girl, but there were still many tests ahead of her.

IN THE DOGHOUSE

Kate was glad of a rest after her exhausting day. She was inwardly thrilled that instead of being sent to a cell she was taken back to the medical suite. It seemed so empty and quiet. Ray, she learned, had been evacuated by helicopter to a hospital hundreds of miles away. Dr Schmidt and Master Alex had accompanied him. Kurt cuffed her hands behind her then chained them to the same bed on which she slept the previous night. Despite the late daylight still illuminating the room (it was six o’clock according to the clock on the wall) Kate was asleep within a few moments.

A hour later she was roused from her slumber by Kurt and pussy-girl lucy. The pussy-girl seemed very excited about something and Kate just knew it had to involve her. She didn’t object when Lucy attended to her make-up again. This time Lucy cleaned off her lipstick and painted her eyes in a dramatic black. It was when her nose was also painted in black that Kate suspected something unusual was happening.

“Hold these.” Kurt instructed. Kate took a small spongy ball in each hand. When she squeezed her fist it could close around the ball, almost concealing it from view. Kurt and Lucy wrapped bandages around Kate’s fists ensuring they stayed closed. Each hand was put in a black fist-shape leather bag that laced up onto her wrist like a boxing glove. They glued the laces so Kate wouldn’t get out of the gloves without the aid of a sharp knife and somebody’s steady hand.

Kate found it amusing, sparring playfully with Lucy as if she were a boxer. It was a light relief for someone who spent much of her time in chains. Next came the kneepads, which Kate found no less amusing.

Pushing her down onto padded hands and knees they gave Kate’s feet a similar treatment. A slim but dense pad was tied onto her soles, with Kurt appearing to take great care with their application. After that Kate’s feet were also laced and glued into soft leather boots. But Kate soon discovered that these boots were NOT made for walking.

“Stand up and walk towards me,” Kurt commanded, whilst backing up to the far side of the room.

Seemed easy enough, thought Kate, rising to her feet.

As soon as her sole pushed down on the floor she felt a powerful jolt, screamed with fright and fell back to her hands and knees. It was as if her hip had been dislocated. Master Kurt was greatly amused and even pussy-girl lucy couldn’t help but smile. “So you see, Kate,” Kurt explained through his laughter, “that’s what happens if you try to stand up. You’re a puppy now, and so you must learn to behave like one.”

Puppy kate was then fitted with a body harness, an array of thin leather straps in a lattice pattern, surrounding but not covering Kate’s fully rounded breasts. Lucy was lubricating a butt plug, at the end of which was a dog’s tail, with its characteristic curve, in the same blonde colour as Kate’s hair. “Knees apart, puppy katie!” The plug popped easily into position.

The body harness had a crotch strap that passed between Kate’s legs and threaded through a ring at the base of her butt plug. It not only kept the plug within Kate’s rectum but also held the tail in its correct dog-like curve. A small padlock was used to secure the strap in position. Pussy-girl lucy showed Kate she had the key on a cord around her neck, the key itself nestling between her tightly bodiced breasts. The point was well made - Lucy was her ‘owner’; a job that the pussy-girl was obviously relishing as she wrapped a thick leather collar around Kate’s neck.

Master Kurt looked down at the new puppy. She looked much sexier than some of his previous puppies. “A good doggy deserves a bone, don’t you think?”

Without waiting for the puppy’s answer the bone was offered to her mouth. Kate took the six-inch white rubber bone firmly between her teeth. At each end of the authentic-looking bone were leather straps, which Lucy buckled together at the back of Kate’s head. “Wouldn’t want you to lose such a nice juicy bone, would we?”

Lucy clipped a chain leash to her puppy’s collar and gave it a sharp encouraging tug. “Better take you outside now. They don’t like puppy dogs inside The Lodge.”

Kate crawled by Lucy’s side, along a crowded hallway where people walked past in all directions. It was her bit-gag, shaped like a doggy bone, that caused the most amusement for the visitors (and humiliation for Kate). Lucy apparently had no pressing duties to attend to as she happily stood and chatted to anybody that showed an interest in her new pet. Kate had never felt so small, crawling along looking over her blackened nose, an animal living at the level of people’s shoes.

During her walk through the hallways someone tried to take her bone away, pretending not to notice the straps. He pulled Kate’s head this way and that pretending that they were fighting for it. “Look she doesn’t want to let go!” He jested. Kate growled in response, but it generated more amusement at her expense. She would have bitten him had she been able to.

Eventually they made it outside onto the large lawn that led to the pony’s training ring. Lucy unclipped the leash and encouraged her puppy to walk alongside. Kate felt little inclination to stray and crawled along obediently at Lucy’s side. At the far end of the lawn they reached a small doghouse, which Kate realized was to be her new home. Lucy delivered her lecture:

“Katie. This is your home for the next couple of days. Now try to behave more like a dog. If you had a dog when you were young try to remember the fun you had with it.” She looked Kate in her black puppy dog eyes and smiled. “Do you have any idea how cute you look? Everybody thinks you’re adorable. I could have sold you ten times over! But don’t worry, I promise that nothing bad will happen to you while you’re my puppy.” She patted the key at her breast to remind Kate who was in charge.

“Now Katie. You need training. The first thing to learn is how to wag your tail properly. Keep your knees firmly together and quickly wiggle your hips.”

Kate tried it. A simple technique, but it worked.

“Perfect! What a good doggy!” Lucy said, knowing how important it was to praise good behavior in puppies. “Now let’s see how good you are at fetching.”

Kate’s bone-gag was unfastened and used as the stick for her to fetch. Lucy was a lousy thrower so Kate only had to crawl a few yards to retrieve it. Next Lucy taught her how to sit nicely in front of the human and how to offer up the bone so that it could be thrown again. After half a dozen throws both Lucy and her puppy were tired and the bone was once again secured in Kate’s mouth; to prevent her from losing it, Lucy said.

The doghouse had a long sturdy chain fixed on the outside. The pussy-girl attached Kate’s collar to the end of it, then, waggling her finger she told Kate to be a good doggy, promising to return later with supper.

Kate crawled inside the single-dog sized doghouse, lying down on the thin vinyl covered mattress. Even though the chain was simply clipped to the collar her paw-like gloves proved unable to manipulate the clip, or do anything else requiring digital dexterity, as she discovered when she tried to scratch the itch caused by the crotch strap. She sat outside leaning back against the doghouse, legs outstretched in a very un-doglike pose, enjoying the last of the day’s sunshine.

Supper soon arrived. Kate greeted Lucy with a genuinely offered wag of her tail, pleased to see her owner carrying a two stainless steel bowls. The multicolored biscuits in one bowl looked uncannily like the ones her pet Labrador used to eat. Even the brand name stamped into each biscuit was the same! It was one aspect of authenticity she hadn’t been expecting. She crunched her way through some of them, finding them palatable if not exactly delicious, and took a drink of water from the other bowl.

PONY NEWS

While Kate was eating Lucy leant on the fence a couple of yards behind the doghouse and watched some ponygirls being put through their paces. It was a practice session for the upcoming pony competition. The ponies were running through their routine for the dressage event, where ponygirl pairs are required to pull their trap in a preset sequence of steps and are graded on accuracy and poise. One of the pairs really caught the Lucy’s eye. Tall, with marvelous posture and lean elegant thighs, that looked simply wonderful during their high-stepping phase. Their drivers were perfectionists, and while one man was seated in the trap controlling the reins another walked alongside the ponies looking for the smallest faults. He didn’t hesitate to give them a hard rap with his cane when required.

They must have gone over and over the same sequence for twenty minutes, seeking perfection and, in Lucy’s opinion, finding it. Only one thing spoiled the spectacle for Lucy - it was that these were not Rabbit Island ponygirls, they were one of the six visiting pairs.

After Kate’s dry biscuit supper Lucy took her puppy to a secluded spot in the bushes to answer the call of nature. She unlocked the crotch strap and unplugging the tail and tucked the loose straps out of the way. Any residual dislike that Kate had for Lucy disappeared when her keeper sensitively took care of her hygiene before lubricating a re-inserting the tail and locking up the crotch strap again. The bone-gag was strapped back in place then they took a brief stroll around the flower borders before returning to the doghouse.

When Lucy returned to her other duties Kate sensed her long day was at an end, even though it was not yet dark. Her thoughts turned to Ray’s accident, not quite able to believe that it was just twenty-four hours ago. She shed a couple of tears, and was aching to know if he was okay.

Kate was distracted by more ponies coming and going in the training ring, some she recognized but most she didn’t. She felt sad knowing that Jessica and Debbie would not be amongst them. Instead of competing and having a chance to win with Ray controlling them, they were destined to spend the next five days on heavy transport duties with an unfamiliar driver controlling them. There just wasn’t another driver with Ray’s skills.

The training ring had emptied with the fading light when one last pony pair entered the ring. Kate knew just by the sound of the pony-boots that it was Jessica and Debbie yet couldn’t quite understand how or why they were there. In a moment of wild optimism Kate move towards the fence to the full extend her neck chain allowed; straining to see who was driving. She was hoping it was Ray, but she knew that was impossible.

When the ponies trotted past, Kate saw that it was Tony, one of the handlers, doing the driving, bouncing unsteadily in the trap’s bench seat as he rode along. Like many handlers he liked to try his hand at pony driving but his level of competence was limited to basic trotting and turning. He might be an efficient and respected handler, but a pony driver he wasn’t. Kate covered her eyes with a paw; it was almost too embarrassing to watch. Even with Riccardo walking alongside giving instructions, and breaking the golden rule about talking to the ponies, the task ahead of them was immense. While the visiting ponygirls were in the ring preparing to put on a show, Jessica and Kate controlled by their new driver, could hardly trot in a straight line.

Riccardo, the Island’s most experienced pony driver, was doing everything he could to encourage the Tony but it simply wasn’t happening for them. The ponygirls were becoming frustrated by the lack of a firm hand they depended on.

While Kate was absorbed by the travails of the ponygirls she hadn’t noticed a man approaching from behind her. He put a hand on her head causing her to yelp with fright. She turned to see it was Master Alex who had touched her. Genuinely happy to see him, she lifted up her rear end to give him an unambiguous wag of her tail then rested her face against his leg. She looked up at him with the bone wedged firmly between her teeth. How could he not be charmed by that black nose and soulful dark eyes?

Other than their almost affectionate greeting there was no conversation. This frustrated Kate because she felt sure Alex had news about Ray’s condition. He walked over to lean on the fence as Lucy had done earlier and waited for the ponygirls to pull up in front of him.

Riccardo and Tony joined Master Alex at the fence glad to put their training aside for a few moments and were soon deep in conversation.

“How is it going?” Master Alex asked.

Riccardo laughed sardonically. “Let’s put it this way, Tony won’t be troubling the dressage rankings, but he’ll be fine for the haulage jobs.”

Kate barked at the ponies as dogs often do. Blinkered as the ponygirls were, she was well out of their line of sight. Jessica sensed that their Masters’ attentions were elsewhere, so pulled Debbie slowly around to the direction of the barking.

Jessica almost literally jumped for joy when she caught sight of Kate. She smiled and laughed as much as a fully harnessed and bridled ponygirl would dare. The ponygirl and the puppy-girl! It was just their sense of humor to appreciate the absurdity of their situation.

Eventually Kate’s yapping got through to Master Alex. He turned around and yelled at her to shut up.

“As I was saying,” Master Alex continued his conversation with Riccardo in a voice deliberately louder than required, “Ray had the operation on his fractured skull today. He’ll be out of action for a while, but he’s going to be fine. The doctors said the excellent early care and treatment he received might have saved his life.”

If he heard a collective groan of relief from the ponygirls and the puppy then Master Alex certainly didn’t acknowledge it. It was too dark to continue the training by the time the men had finished talking. The ponies headed off with Riccardo and Tony sharing the bench seat for a quick ride back to The Lodge, enjoying the sudden spring in the steps of the ponygirls.

Master Alex, clearly exhausted, bade the puppy-girl goodnight with a stroke of her hair, and walked slowly across the dark lawn to the welcoming lights of The Lodge.

PLEASE SQUEEZE!

The approaching sound of the pony-boot bells on the supper run signified that the bunnies’ upside-down bondage and torment would soon be over. They were exhausted from their futile writhing against that infuriating itch in their pussies. For a couple of them it had still not abated. They still twitched occasionally while the others hung limp, utterly drained of fight.

Frank (the duty pony driver) and Kurt (the senior handler) lifted down and untied the bunnies, but it became apparent that the bunnies had more on their minds than supper. They were prowling around in frustration, thrusting their breasts in the direction of the two men, some coyly, others blatant and provocatively, begging the men to massage their breasts to finally relieve their itching. Above all else they wanted their chastity belts removed, even if it was only for five minutes.

The men took pity on them and told them to get in a line, side by side. “In order of breast size!” Frank added with a grin, “and if we think you’re wrong you won’t get a massage.”

They watched, highly amused, as the bunnies stood around arguing over it. Nancy, with the smallest breasts, was sheepishly waiting at the end of the line while the difficult middle places were sorted out.

Kurt and Frank walked slowly down the line of seven puffed out chests, making sure that the bunnies had completed the task correctly. Nancy was grimacing, Sumi was in tears, and others had the anguish of an unscratchable itch written on their faces.

“Very good.” said Frank. The men applied themselves to the onerous task of giving all their breasts a prolonged and heavy massage. Starting, naturally, with the largest.

Their chastity belts however stayed firmly in place. Orders were orders.

NANCY GOES FOR A WALK

Still believing Nancy to be guilty some of the other bunnies were not in a forgiving mood. Paradoxically the authorities at The Lodge saw it differently. If, went the argument, Nancy had taken the key why was she still wearing her handcuffs? They had decided not to prosecute her further, at least not until the journalist had been thoroughly interrogated.

Later that evening, not missed by the other bunnies, Nancy headed up the trail to look for Karen Galtz’s backpack, hoping and praying that it had not been recovered by the handlers and taken to The Lodge. She managed to locate it hidden a few yards away from the trail and begun pulling out its contents. Besides a complete change of clothing, a torch, a first-aid kit and rations, there was a survival pack. It included a coiled-up wire saw.

It took a long time, an hour or more, to rig up the wire saw between tree branches so that it could cut through a metal link of her cuffs. Nancy’s persistence had paid off and her hands were finally separated. She swung her hands though the air in during wild triumphant dance, ignoring the pain in her shoulders caused by their previous immobility.

With her arms free she could wear Ms Galtz’s spare clothing. She tried on Karen’s bra but found it too constricting after so many months hanging free. She flung it away disdainfully. It just seemed like exchanging one form of bondage for another.

The shirt, she was delighted to see, had long-sleeves that could hide the bracelets of the handcuffs which remained on each wrist. There was no time to remove her locked-on leather collar and chain but she found a large red bandana that she tied around her neck to conceal it.

Wearing real shoes and socks, to go with her other clothing Nancy felt alive again. She put on the backpack, which contained little except its survival supplies and most importantly, Ms Galtz’s photographic proof of slavery on the island. She made her way down to the harbour and waited patiently, having no idea of the time.

At exactly midnight, on a starlit but moonless night, Nancy stepped aboard a speedboat and made her escape from Rabbit Island.