Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get The Blues

Chapter 10 takes place later on the same day as chapter 9

KATE IN THE TORTURE GARDEN

Patience is a virtue, they say. Unfortunately for Kate, her tormentors had it in abundance. For more than half an hour they studiously applied the cane and flogger to her body, savoring every stroke they made and every moan she uttered. She was blindfolded and dangling by her tied wrists secured high above her. Only the barest touch of toes from one foot on the grass, prevented a complete suspension. Kate’s other foot was bent painfully back behind her, and tied to the D ring at the back of her thick leather collar. The upturned sole offered an inviting target for the cane of the man standing behind her. Her white pussy-girl stockings afforded it meager protection from the impact of the cane.

The two men talked casually as they beat her. Kate learned a new phrase: She was a ‘ten-percenter’. It wasn’t an exact term; just the elder man’s theory that she experienced 10% pleasure along with her genuine 90% pain. It was an ideal ratio, he explained to his younger associate.

“One doesn’t want a woman who is too masochistic, too much into the pain; but nor do you want a woman that is incapable of being aroused by the treatment.” He looked up and down Kate’s squirming body with admiration. “This one is perfect.”

Perfect! Kate couldn’t help but register the bizarre compliment, as he brought the riding crop down on her breasts yet again. How ironic that she would receive such a description whilst enduring one of the most comprehensive beatings she’d ever known.

When the beating finally ceased, everything went quiet except for Kate’s panting and puffing out her cheeks. Her body was sweating, tingling and marked in red all over.

She hadn’t even got her breath back when she heard the static buzz of a violet wand.

It touched the underside of her rope-encircled breasts, then her cherry-shaped nipples, before tracing a tender line down the center of her belly and thence to her sex. Kate yelped and moaned, to the great amusement of her tormentors. “Oh my god!” she gasped.

“That’s a lot more than ten percent!” Kenny declared. “Isn’t it, blondie?”

The older man slipped the pointed end of the wand between her labia and pressed the trigger, in order to elicit Kate’s answer.

“Yes...yes...oh god!” She couldn’t even remember what she was agreeing with. For a tormented slave-girl who’d forgotten the question, ‘yes’ was a safer response than ‘no’. All she knew was that they were playing her like a musical instrument; and her cries were augmenting the symphony of pain coming from the other victims in the Torture Garden.

Kate’s torture paused, more likely so that the men could have a rest rather than her. There followed a sound and a smell that Kate knew well. Something in Kate’s reaction made the men laugh.

“She’s one of us,” Kenny joked.

“It’s bad for your health, you know,” the elder man said, while carefully placing a lit cigarette between her lips. Kate drew the smoke into her lungs, coughing slightly, before savoring the nicotine hit. It was her first in nearly a year, since coming to Rabbit Island.

The smoke break having concluded, the older man wrapped narrow strips of medium-grade sandpaper around each of his index fingers. He pressed them against Kate’s bulbous nipples, rubbing gently on the tips with a circular motion. Kate’s moans turned to a pleading whimper, as the sandpaper felt like it came in direct contact with her nerve-endings.

In front of her, the man’s lips mercifully replaced the sandpaper on her nipples. Kenny ripped apart the stocking on her foot and did likewise to her toes.

If only she hadn’t moaned so loud, they might have continued for longer. They stopped as soon as her pleasure was apparent. She could have kicked herself, and with one leg tied conveniently behind her, she did exactly that.

There was just one more torture to come. Denial. Kate could hear the men tidying up the equipment. Within a minute she felt like a neglected toy, dangling sore and exhausted, to await whatever would next befall her.

Kate panicked, hearing them about to go. “You’re not going to leave me here are you?”

“Sure! A handler will untie you sooner or later. You’ll be quite safe till then.”

“But you haven’t...”

“It’s the Torture Garden, blondie. We’re not allowed to.”

“But my breasts...my nipples hurt...”

“They’ll be fine!”

They took a final regretful glance behind them at the perspiring and welted body dangling beside them. Her bound breasts heaving with passion, calling to them like a siren. The two men headed back to the Lodge, debating whether to have a beer before locating their next unwilling slave-girl.

While Kate was experiencing the torture garden, ponygirls Jessica and Debbie were taken back to their quarters.

Jessica and Debbie obediently stood still, although itching for their freedom. Riccardo and Frank busied themselves with unlocking the reins and straps that restrained and controlled the ponygirls for so long.

“So you really think we have a good chance tomorrow?” Riccardo asked Frank, making conversation as they worked.

“Sure! It’s the cross-country event! You and these ponies know every little turn and hill on this island. You’ll romp home with a time good enough to win the whole competition.”

“That’s enough,” Frank said, having removed the padlocks and reins, “the other ponies can do the rest.”

With a firm slap on the butts of their respective ponygirls, they sent Jessica and Debbie through the door leading to the pony quarters. The men left the tack room by the outer door, bolting and locking it behind them.

Jessica and Debbie stood in the entrance of the ponygirls’ main quarters, and called out from behind their bitted mouths. With their arms sheathed in the long leather gloves and their hands sealed within them in a fist shape, Jessica and Debbie were reliant on their colleagues for undressing.

Diana and Melinda soon appeared, their athletic bodies were naked and dripping wet having interrupted their dip in their small swimming pool. They had also spent the day in harness, but unlike Jessica, had only been on taxi duty. Perhaps next year they might be entered in the competition, at least that was their hope.

First to be removed were the pony boots, mainly because of the ponygirls’ self-regulating policy forbidding their being worn within the quarters. Diana and Melinda bent down to start unlacing them.

Diana told Jessica they’d spent most of the day at the corral, harnessed to their trap of course. Bruce, their driver, had deliberately made them stand facing away from the track. It didn’t stop them from gleaning information from the PA system and general conversation around them. It was like following the events on the radio, Melinda said.

Diana gazed at Jessica with admiration and envy. Even after the exertions of the day, she looked pretty in her corset and stockings. The yellow carnations were still clipped to Jessica’s nipples and labia.

Jessica let Diana undress her just as she did yesterday. Diana was in no hurry, lovingly unlacing the corset, collar, leaving the gloves til last so that Jessica was her helpless captive for the longest possible time. She enjoyed being the recipient of Jessica’s moans of gratitude as she removed each item of the costume.

Finally naked, except for the embossed marks the tight costume had made in her flesh, Jessica followed Debbie into the bathroom, her long pony’s tail swishing from her butt hole. Common sense dictated that tails were only removed when inside the bathroom.

On exiting the bathroom and jumping into the swimming pool, Jessica was informed that she would be going to the evening’s festival. The other ponygirls were given the task of preparing her.

Jessica contemplated the heavy chain that hung in a deep parabolic curve, connecting her collar to the side of a wooden chair on her right.

Does a chain only bind me if I pull against it, she mused. If it remains slack then is it really holding me? What if the chain just signified that I belonged to somebody? That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Jessica shook her head as if trying to purge such crazy thought from her mind. She gazed around the Lodge’s ballroom. She was on a slightly raised tier that surrounded the dance floor. Chairs and table screeched on the parquet floor as they were arranged so that everyone would have a good view of the evening’s floor show. She looked up at the double height vaulted ceiling, with its massive hardwood beams. All manner of equipment, (lighting, speakers, hoists) hung down in the space that functioned as dining room, ballroom and theater. There were more than a hundred people already there, and space for half as many again. Jessica wasn’t the only one kneeling chained to a chair. Not by any means. There were others she knew from Rabbit Island, and also female visitors that had earlier been mingling freely, enjoying the pony events. Now they had their hands tied and were kneeling beside a chair just as she was.

The young blonde woman kneeling by the chair alongside her looked familiar to Jessica. Then she remembered - it was one of the women who had inspected her while she was a pony. The woman was free then, and Jessica could remember vividly how the woman’s hands were touching her nipples, admiringly caressing their rings, and commenting to her lover (or should that be owner?) on how erotic it was.

Now this woman was handcuffed, gagged and chained in much the same way as Jessica. Despite her predicament, her bright inquisitive eyes darted around the hall and she appeared more excited than anxious about what the evening’s events would bring. She looked over towards Jessica, as if to share the excitement of the event with her. There was no hint that she recognized Jessica as the ponygirl she had been so fascinated with earlier in the day.

A firm hand pressed down on Jessica’s bare shoulder, as if needing it for support. Jessica sighed with relief when she saw Master Alex sit down wearily in the chair. He studied her for a moment as if trying to gauge her mood. She stared back at him, her dark eyes blazing defiantly. Their respective looks of benevolent dominance from him, and defiance from her, had become a ritual that betrayed the grudging and growing respect between them.

“Move your knees apart,” he instructed.

She made a V shape with her thighs, although it was partially obscured by the hem of her dress.

“Sit up straight.”

Jessica raised her torso to its fullest height and stuck her chest out proudly. The arc of heavy chain between her collar and the chair swung gently, as Jessica settled in position.

“Chin up. Look straight ahead.”

Alex began his inspection. Jessica’s wrists were firmly cross-tied behind her with what was clearly a long length of rope. She wore a blue satin dress with spaghetti straps tied on the shoulders. Unusually her breasts, or at least her nipples, were covered. She wore a strapless bra that helped form an impressive swell of cleavage. Jessica’s upright posture caused it to rise and fall with each breath.

Her dark wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, both at the front and back. Jessica had never grown her hair this long before, but she had no choice; it was a ponygirl requirement. One of the less onerous ones.

Jessica’s makeup was immaculate too. Eyes rimmed with black and shadowed in a blue that matched her dress. Her lips, red and shiny, teeth white and perfect, made the ball in her mouth seem dull by comparison.

Alex reached down with his left hand, pulling up the loose hem of the dress, that rested softly at mid-thigh. His palm alighted fully on Jessica’s shaven sex, her labia rings tickling his skin. His fingers explored the rings, confirming that his instructions had been followed. The labia rings were laced together with a ribbon as one might a pair of shoes.

“What did I tell you?” Alex said sharply, when he saw Jessica looking downwards. She quickly resumed her forward look, staring vaguely into the space in front of her.

The other ponygirls had done a good job, Alex thought, although Jessica’s colleagues had no choice but follow instructions if they didn’t want to be punished. That was exactly what they said to Jessica as they thoroughly tied her wrists with the rope. (‘If you want a slave-girl tied up properly get another slave-girl to do it,’ was an oft quoted saying on Rabbit Island.)

“Stay exactly like that,” Alex instructed as he walked off in search of someone or something. Jessica did so, maintaining her posture and focusing her eyes well beyond the blurred shapes moving in front of her. She felt strangely aloof, with a kind of contentment, as if her Master’s instruction had somehow liberated her from the status of a captive.

A few minutes later Jessica’s meditation was interrupted. Her view was blocked by a man and woman standing immediately in front of her. Tight leather pants accentuated the woman’s spindly legs.

“Is that one of the ponygirls?” The woman asked, with evident distaste. Jessica immediately recognized the voice of Madame Cavallo.

“That’s right.” Alex replied, thinking further comment unnecessary.

Cavallo seemed almost distressed by the sight of Jessica. “She should be in a stable. It doesn’t seem right to have a ponygirl in here. You’re the manager here for God’s sake. You can choose from dozens of slavegirls!”

Alex laughed. “And tonight I chose this one. Sometimes Madame Cavallo, you give the impression you think ponygirls are not human.”

Cavallo became irritated. “Of course I know they’re human, but the art of ponygirl keeping, is in their transformations - shaping them in mind and body. My surgeon is performing wonders with my slave girls. Each one becomes more suitable for her purpose. How will this one ever complete her pony transformation if you are dragging her off to parties every night?”

“Ah! That is the fundamental difference between us. On Rabbit Island we don’t believe in permanent transformations.” Alex replied. “Firstly, there are other adventures to be enjoyed, for the ponygirls and masters alike. Secondly, it’s unhealthy. As much as your objective is the transformation of your slaves, mine is the preservation of their well-being and sanity.”

“Each to their own I suppose. Neither of us is in a position to judge the other.” Madame Cavallo said, trying for a conciliatory tone. “Not everyone on the Rabbit Island committee agrees with you on your lax attitude to slaves. Take my advice, Alex. One day they’ll creep behind you and stab you in the back.”

Cavallo timed her departure perfectly with those fateful words as if she had planned for the conversation to end on exactly that note. Alex watched cautiously as she strolled off with her empty glass towards other party guests.

“Ghastly woman,” Alex muttered as he sat down and took a sip of white wine.

Jessica continued to kneel as motionless as a statue, her back perfectly upright, as if a thin wire was stretched between her collar to the ceiling. She hadn’t so much as glanced sideways for several minutes. It felt like she could hold that pose forever.

Alex placed his hand across the shelf of flesh atop Jessica’s breasts, surprised at their warmth as he felt their gentle rise and fall. He was used to having full access to Jessica’s breasts and her wonderful nipples as she wasn’t normally permitted to cover them. Yet the old maxim about something being more desirable because it is hidden, came to his mind.

He lifted up the hem of her dress, as Jessica feared he might. When he did that earlier, she was dry. Now she wasn’t. His hand was again on her moist sex, molding itself to the curve, finger gently drumming her flesh.

Jessica sensed with horror that she was virtually pumping her juice onto his hand, but he showed no sign of moving it. It was a strange and wonderful kind of shame.

Alex removed his hand, wiping it with a handkerchief then dabbing Jessica’s labia too. She continued to stare ahead at the blurred objects of people walking past just a few feet in front of her, glad that she was not required to look at the man who engineered that sweet humiliation. She was soon wet again.

PLACE YOUR BETS

Master Alex gave Jessica permission to move. It was like a spell had been broken; a force field that protected her from her surroundings had been lifted. The Ballroom was much fuller than when Jessica last looked around. It was a lively and good-natured atmosphere as there wasn’t yet the sound of crying and sniffling slavegirls that usually occured on such evenings.

The slave-girl next to Jessica was no longer kneeling at the side of her chair. Unnoticed by Jessica, she had shuffled forward. Her shoulder was leaning against her master’s thigh, while he played idle with loose strands of her hair. Other kneeling slavegirls had also moved to a similar state of relative comfort.

Jessica started to feel conspicuously different, and if only for her social comfort she shifted herself slowly, until she too was leaning against her so-called Master’s thigh. She was glad that Master Alex didn’t acknowledge her, although he couldn’t have failed to notice her body leaning lightly against his thigh.

The main lights dimmed. The floor show was about to begin. A loud dance beat came over the speaker system. Colored spot-lamps darted madly around the hall as the first act of the evening was led in.

Eight naked, healthily tanned, bunnies entered the central stage area in two regimented lines. Each couple was linked together by a single pair of handcuffs on their adjacent wrists. Their eyes looked around the hall, nervous of performing in front of such a large number of people, but they knew what they were required to do.

The handlers, each dressed in a black singlet and long black pants, ushered the bunnies into their positions, swishing their riding crops lightly on the bunnies, mainly for the amusement of the audience.

One of the handlers shepherded the soon-to-be-performing bunnies on to four cushioned rubber mats, the type commonly found in a gymnasium. “You two - on that mat. You two - next to them. You on that one and you two, at the end. Sit down, and stay quiet.”

They did as they were told. The handcuffs connecting each couple giving the impression that they were simply best friends holding hands. In one sense it was an accurate impression - they were good friends, which was exactly why they were participating in this event.

“Which one is the bottom?” The handler gruffly asked the first pair.

“Me,” the bunny on the right replied meekly, her eyes cast modestly downwards.

The handler gripped her right ankle and lifted it high, exposing her openings. Another handler was ready with a four inch steel anal prod. Being quite narrow, it slipped easily into her. He pressed a button on it. The bunny gasped - with surprise more than pain - as a section of the prod expanded within her to prevent its removal. There was a long trailing wire on the end of the prod. He trailed it along the floor, plugging it into a small junction box.

Then he bent her right ankle backwards and handcuffed her right wrist to it. She sat up awkwardly in her asymmetric bondage, watching as her partner was fitted with a dildo gag. A six-inch rubber phallus protruded obscenely from the front of her gagged mouth. A wide-eyed look of panic passed between pair of them..

The other three pairs received exactly the same anal plugging, bondage and gagging. While the handlers taped down the trailing wires and tested the control box they routed into, the Master of Ceremonies explained the event.

Jessica rested her chin on the linen fabric of his pants. It seemed like the correct gesture of her submission to him, and she hoped it would attract his attention from the eight naked competitors. She wanted to give him a betting tip.

Master Alex became aware of wetness on his thigh - the dribbling from Jessica’s mouth. He cursed her.

Jessica became distressed when she realized her mistake. Blaming it on her ballgag simply wouldn’t work. She frantically rubbed her chin on his pants hoping somehow it would wipe it away. It didn’t work. The damp patch just spread across Alex’s thigh.

“For heaven’s sake Jessica. When you’re in a hole, stop digging!” Alex finally said.

Jessica quietly turned away, ashamed and embarrassed. It wasn’t nice to dribble on somebody. With a firm hand on the top of her head Alex turned her to face him. Through a series of grunts she managed to communicate her recommendation that he bet on Sumi and Rachel. It was only moments before the bookmaker’s runner came around.

“Five!” said Alex to the runner, “on the third pair.”

Jessica relaxed again. Surely he wouldn’t be too mad if she lost him five dollars.

The runner was one of those people who needed to say aloud whatever he wrote. “Master.. Alex.. number.. three..., five... thousand... dollars... at... four... to... one. Thank you, Sir!”

Jessica let out an exasperated groan. Shit! He had five thousand dollars riding on her tip. Suddenly being tied up and chained to Alex’s chair didn’t seem such a smart place to be.

“How about if we win, I remove the gag and we split the winnings?” Alex joked. He didn’t say what would happen if she lost. One of his special cane beatings, she supposed.

Meanwhile, the eight naked contestants were busily discussing tactics, the bottom girl talking to her dildo-wielding partner, explaining how best to bring her to orgasm.

For Sumi and Rachel, no consultation was necessary. Sumi was already seducing Rachel with her dark eyes. She had been sold to Rabbit Island from a Korean brothel, and was a true expert in the art of pleasuring men and women alike. Rachel, a leggy blonde Texan, formerly a stripper and pole dancer, had no fear of performing in public. They made a good team.

A bell clanged.

The four pairs commenced their very public seductions, amidst cheering and encouragements from guests, each rooting for the pair that their respective money was riding on. It looked not unlike a high school wrestling meet apart from some very obvious differences.

Rachel was laying on her back, her right wrist and ankle cuffed together at her hip, Sumi lifted Rachel’s left leg up and backwards, cunningly using Rachel’s left arm - which was cuffed to her own- to pin it. If it were a wrestling match, she would have just won.

Sumi pushed the dildo protruding from her gagged mouth into Rachel’s mouth. It was like a deep kiss, but it was Rachel’s saliva that Sumi was after. Trailing the dildo’s tip down Rachel’s heaving chest, it provided an ideal implement for massaging her large breasts, digging into each of them in turn, circling the erect nipples, then brushing back and forward over them. Meanwhile the fingers of Sumi’s left hand were already probing into the blonde’s moist sex. Rachel moaned, hopelessly pinned by the lighter but more agile Korean.

Jessica watched intently from her position five yards away. She was excited in more ways than one, making little bouncing moves in her kneeling position, mewling softly, willing her friends along. It they could win this game it might save her from a beating and save Master Alex from losing five thousand dollars.

Making a move that deserved to be seen again in slow motion, Sumi spun around on top of her team-mate/victim so the puffy lips of her sex hovered inches above Rachel’s mouth. Sumi plunged the dildo into Rachel’s upturned sex, bobbing up and down to the accompaniment of Rachel’s pre-orgasmic cries.

The scoreboard showed Rachel’s orgasm rating hovering stubbornly at 99 as if the meter was stuck. The other three pairs were still in the low 90’s but gaining fast. With an ear splitting cry of joy, Rachel came. Sumi pummeled away diligently until the anal sensors recorded Rachel’s orgasm on the scoreboard, just in case anyone in the audience had any doubts.

Handlers immediately pulled the other pairs from their various coital embraces. There was no second place in this competition. Sumi had her dildo gag removed and Rachel’s wrist-to-ankle cuff was removed, as was the anal measuring device. They laid side by side like sated lovers, still breathing rapidly from the exertions. Perspiring, exhausted, with a mixture of triumph and relief.

Sumi and Rachel knew there wasn’t a prize for winning, only the avoidance of a penalty - and so it was today. The anal probes within the three losing ‘bottoms’ soon revealed their other function. The women’s bodies jerked when the first shock was delivered. They yelled and cursed and cried as the probes delivered a series of shocks, while their gagged partners tried in vain to comfort them.

Jessica watched the punishments with more amusement than sympathy. She had suffered the same punishment in Madame Cervoix’s oral class that very morning and knew its effect was dramatic but mercifully short-lived. She felt Master Alex unbuckling her ballgag. The sensation of a man’s strong hand unbuckling a strap at the back of her head was something that Jessica come to enjoy. She opened her mouth as wide as possible to allow Alex to pull out the ball. He re-buckled it loosely around her neck like a second collar, then wiped her chin with a handkerchief - the same one that had earlier wiped away her pussy juice.

“What are you going to do with your share of the money?” Master Alex asked.

Jessica was confused at first, before remembering that Alex had earlier joked about splitting the winnings with her. This guy sure could be cruel!

Jessica paused for thought, and then announced, “I think I’ll go to the travel agency tomorrow and book a flight back to the USA.”

Alex laughed a short nervous laugh that acknowledged the wit of her answer. “There’s no need. Your flight is already taken care of, but won’t be leaving for another year. I’ll stick it in your bank account for you.”

Their faltering conversation was interrupted by the man sitting next to Alex. He was one of Rabbit Island’s committee members, and someone often opposed to Alex when it came to Island policy.

Kneeling between the men, Jessica was well positioned to follow their conversation. That’s when she learned that Master Alex was leaving the island the next morning. It was a trip of great importance to the future of Rabbit Island, the men agreed.

After that, Master Alex pushed his index fingers into Jessica’s ears, as if she were a child not meant to hear an adult conversation.

In his capacity as a psychiatrist (and most definitely NOT as a Rabbit Island member), his medical contacts had arranged for him to meet the ‘armless woman’, the same one that had motivated Karen Galtz, the nosey reporter, to visit the island. She was still in the care of a Bangkok clinic and the US consulate.

(Jessica closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of Alex’s fingers teasing her ears.)

Alex’s task was to discover if and how this woman had lost her memory. Was there really a connection with Rabbit Island? If not, then what was the significance of her rabbit tattoo? They agreed that Alex would take the necessary course of action if he felt the woman could ever implicate Rabbit Island in her unfortunate story. ‘Do whatever it takes!’, the man emphasized. Alex nodded.

Alex removed his fingers from Jessica’s ears as the conversation moved onto less serious matters.

“Did you visit the O-Box?” The man enquired.

Alex confirmed he had.

“Kate, I believe she was called; the newest pussy girl. Nearly blew my mind! There’s still waiting list for her.”

“I know. She’s a friend of this one,” Alex said, gesturing to Jessica, stroking her hair like a dog, which also ensured she couldn’t turn around to look at him. “Both graduated Cervoix’s oral course with distinction,” he added.

Last time Jessica had seen Kate she was being marched to the Torture Garden, so it surprised her to discover that she was doing duty in the O-Box so soon after. Perhaps had she seen the unsightly red welts covering Kate’s body she would agree the O-Box was the only sensible place for her.

The evening’s entertainments continued. A woman was wheeled onto the stage, tied belly-down on a small gurney. She was hog-tied - her ankles bent fully back and each lashed tight to its respective wrist and upper thigh. Her big toes had been bound together and a leather cord tied as taut as a bow string between them and a D ring at the top of her head harness.

As the trolley spun around to give the audience a better view (it also allowed her a full view of the audience) no one could fail to notice her bald and shiny head. If her recent close shave were not enough to shame her, she also had to endure a nose hook. A two pronged hook that slipped into the nostrils with its connected cord tied off tight at the top of her head harness, giving the nostrils a distended vertical shape. The pig-like expression on the tormented woman’s face caused great amusement.

Jessica asked Master Alex who it was.

“That’s Karen Galtz, the journalist. The one they picked up after Ray was hurt. She’s had a busy day today. Shaved, tattooed, branded and pierced. I’m told she’s as horny as hell after all that treatment. Looks good, the gag harness on a shaved head, doesn't it?”

Jessica didn’t comment, but conceded that there was something about the black leather dissecting Karen’s fair skin that was strangely compelling. So tightly bound, she was helpless except for the wiggling of her fingers, trying in vain to reach the rope knots. The fact that she was as ‘horny as hell’ whilst tied that way was something Jessica also found strangely compelling.

A man held up a pole, perhaps nine feet in length. With the patter of a stand-up comedian, he explained to the audience that this was the world’s longest dildo. Perfect, not only for the larger woman, but also for fucking her when you don’t want to get too close - if she has a cold for example.

He moved the pole into a horizontal position and inspected the tip. That end really was a dildo, the remaining eight feet length being just a black wooden pole. With a theatrical flourish he moved it towards Karen Galtz’s rear, into the inviting V shape created by her bent legs. Her pussy lips were perfectly aligned and inviting, two soft puffy doors waiting to be prized open.

Holding the pole at its far end he carefully guided the tip towards the spot between Karen’s labia, running it up and down her crack. She moaned, surprised by the sudden touch. A microphone had been fixed to the gurney just below her chin, so all her moans and whimpers were relayed over the P.A. As her keeper moved the pole moved vigorously in and out of her, Karen became more and more excited - until she was just a wet throbbing pussy on the end of his pole. It wouldn’t have matter if she was in the middle of Yankee Stadium by then; there was only one thing she desired, and that was to be forced to cum.

She might have known it wouldn’t be so simple. Her keeper withdrew the pole.

“Apparently we are running behind schedule,” the man announced. “We’ll need to come back in an hour to finish the little whore off.”

Accepting the applause of the audience, he took a bow and pulled the gurney (and its frustrated occupant) off the stage. Karen was frantic, her tearful protestations at being pulled back from the brink, providing yet another amusement for her audience.

“You need to stretch your legs.” Master Alex said to Jessica.

Jessica agreed, although half-dreaded how he intended to do it. Such a phrase could mean a couple of hours on the rack was planned for her. He reached for the gag strap that had lain loose around her neck. “Open wide!”

She did so. The familiar red ball filled her mouth. Then she bent her head downwards to allow him to buckle the strap. She lifted her chin so he could unclip the chain from her collar. With a firm grip under one of her armpits Alex helped Jessica to her feet. It was the first time he’d seen her standing in that blue dress. He could scarcely believe how nice she looked, but tried not to show his admiration too much. Secretly he wished her hands were not tied. He would have liked her to take his arm, just like a normal couple in a normal ballroom.

Master Alex led Jessica quietly to the other side of the ballroom, his hand loosely holding her by the rope around her bound wrists. While they walked Jessica’s eyes were transfixed on Debbie, looking so graceful as she danced.

It wasn’t just Debbie’s body that was spinning, so was Jessica’s mind. She was walking through the throng of party guests ostensibly as Master Alex’s partner. Her hands might have been tied but she was undoubtedly his ‘partner’. He took a glass of wine from a waiter’s tray as they squeezed past other guests, most of whom were heading for the dance floor.

Jessica was disturbed by something. Master Alex had unlocked her chain without having to tell her to behave. He had made an assumption that she had been ‘tamed’. What worried her was that he might be correct in his assumption. She had no thought of misbehaving.

“Master Alex, my old friend, how the devil are you?” A gregarious and mature English voice called out.

Alex smiled, and headed towards Sir Stanley. “Don’t look them in the eyes,” he whispered to Jessica as they approached the Englishman’s little group of drinkers. A dark and handsome man named Hector was introduced. He was an Argentinean. Master Alex didn’t know the beautiful woman at his side but Jessica did...It was Eva, her morning classmate. Hector and Eva made a very handsome couple.

Eva curtsied politely as Master Alex approached, her eyes cast downward. She was wearing an elegant red velvet dress that clung to her shapely figure. It had a scooped neckline that left her neck and upper chest bare and showed off her attractive cleavage.

Hector bade her to turn around, in order to show off the dress. It solved the mystery of where her arms had gone. They were squeezed together into a single sleeve at the back of the dress. The sleeve ended at the wrists, where a sparkling diamanté band fixed them tightly together.

Alex was impressed. He’d never seen such an elegant dress with bondage as an integral part of its design.

“It’s a lovely dress, isn’t it Eva?” Sir Stanley asked, having already suggested the answer to her.

Eva nodded. She wasn’t expected to speak; her red dress had been accessorized by a gag of the same color. The fabric was tight between her teeth and knotted at the back of her head. It was the gag of choice for smart nights out.

Alongside Eva, in the care of Sir Stanley, was a woman wearing a glittering silver sheath dress that encased her from neck to toe, leaving her barely able to hobble. Master Alex was stunned by her dusky beauty. It was Suchita, Jessica’s Indian classmate. Her dress was sleeveless, but that didn’t mean her arms were visible. Instead Suchita’s arms were encased within the front of the dress, with her hands positioned tantalizingly over her sex. Only her thumbs had been tied together, Sir Stanley explained. Like Eva, she wore a cleave gag that matched her dress.

“I’m thinking of buying this one,” Sir Stanley said, motioning towards Suchita. “I don’t usually like darkies, but I’ll make an exception in this case. They say she’s educated and well-mannered too!”

Rabbit Island was known to have some fine looking slaves. Even some of the ponygirls were quite attractive. Yet Alex had to admit that a woman of Suchita’s beauty was destined for only the finest and richest homes. Sir Stanley’s vast estate certainly qualified. He’d explained to her that there were already other Indians working on his estate; as if that would make Suchita feel better.

“So you think your ponygirls have a chance of catching mine tomorrow?” Sir Stanley asked Alex, clearly delighted with the showing of his own ponygirl in the competition. His tone indicated that he thought the English ponygirls’ lead was unassailable.

“I’m sure they’ll do their best.” Alex replied coolly. Jessica detected that Master Alex was not particularly interested in the outcome. Nor did he seem about to let on that Jessica was one of those Rabbit Island ponygirls.

“I had my ponies locked down early tonight, to make sure they’re in peak form tomorrow.” Sir Stanley confided.

That meant that all the other ponygirl competitors were locked in their stables, Jessica realized. She now felt like an interloper at the party, with Master Alex as her co-conspirator. She felt a surreptitious pride in sharing a secret with him.

For five or maybe ten minutes Jessica was in the midst of the most glamorous event she had ever known. Alex continued to hold her tightly around the waist as he laughed and joked with Sir Stanley, Hector, and any number of passers-by. It ended all to soon. Erik came to take her away. But tonight there was no doubt in Jessica’s mind that she was being led to Master Alex’s bedroom.

Jessica was standing against a tall bedpost at the foot of Master Alex’s four-poster bed - her arms raised and tied with soft white rope high up the post. She reached up her bound hands and was amazed to find a knot came within her fingertips. It was unlike Erik to be so careless with his tying-up, but he’d been drinking, and seemed preoccupied. The rumor was that he’d fallen in love.

There was a knife in Master Alex’s bedside drawer. Jessica remembered that because he’d used it on her once before - not to cut her, but rather to cut the ropes that were binding her too tightly on one occasion. She pulled out six inch blade from its embossed leather sheath. The reflected light from the blade dazzled her, portending its power, like a miniature excalibur.

Kicking off her high heels, Jessica went to the bedroom door. She put her ear against it and listened. The corridor on the other side seemed quiet. Opening the door just a crack, she peeked out. The corridor was empty. In one direction lay the main entrance and ballroom, in the other was a vast array of other routes, including back to the pony quarters. She had always been blindfolded when taken down these corridors. Now her memory would be tested. In theory, she could reach the back lawn in less than a minute, and from there into the blackness of night.

“Right at the bottom...twenty steps... then left... right after thirty steps... then left at the end...or was it right?” Jessica rehearsed the route in her mind, but everything had gotten confused. “No! It’s right at the end!” She said, as if arguing with herself. Having won the argument, she opened the door and prepared to run.

Whether it was good timing or bad, she didn’t know, but a man, slightly the worse for drink staggered into the corridor. It was Vince, one of the handlers. He wasn’t a bad man, despite his notorious firmness with the beach bunnies. She’d never seen him fight, but he was a big muscular guy, who could look after himself. Having had a few drinks wouldn’t change that fact.

Jessica eyed the six-inch knife in her hand, and considered doing something that she’d never before imagined. ‘Hard up under the ribs and turn it, pull it out and do it again’, someone told her once, or perhaps she’d just seen it in a movie?

She pushed the door closed, but not on the latch, in case it made a noise. She prepared herself to deal with him.

The door suddenly flung open. Vince had leant on it as he staggered past, not expecting it to give way. Confused at suddenly finding himself standing in the entrance of the bedroom, he paused. It was very unusual to find a room left unlocked.

He walked further into the darkened room, stumbling on Jessica’s discarded shoes. He heard a noise. “Anyone in here?”

There was no answer.

“Anyone here?”

This time he heard something - a rustling from the bed. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a moving shape under the duvet. It was a woman. Although the duvet covered her body, he could see she was wearing a ballgag.

Jessica had her fingers linked together behind her back, and held her ankles together whilst pretending to kick out. It gave a good impression of being bound hand and foot. She mmpphh’d something. Vince was reassured. Everything seemed normal.

“Oh, Jessica. It’s you! The door was open. I er...” Vince stumbled over his explanation before realizing he had no need to explain himself to a ponygirl. He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Jessica pulled the gag from her mouth, but continued to lay in Alex’s comfortable bed. She sat up, propping herself with the firm pillows that Master Alex favored. Whilst toying with the knife, she accidentally pricked her thumb with it. She was surprised at how sharp it was. The first blood she tasted was her own, but if she had to, she would kill somebody, Jessica told herself.

Armed with his valid excuse of an early departure in the morning, Master Alex bid a goodnight to his friends in the ballroom and made his way contentedly back to his room.