Debby's Plight

by SirJeff

©SirJeff (2002)

- inspired by photos of Michelle's plight on ShadowPlayers.com.

- also use on SirJeff's Ponygirls website.

- do not use story without the author's permission.

I awoke, startled by the cawing of a crow. There were birds chirping and I could feel the itching tickle of coarse grass. The sun felt warm on me, yet it was pitch dark. Where was I?

Then I remembered. My Master, M, had said, "debby, insert your opaque contact lenses now and drink this."

Where was I? How did I get here?

As I sat up, there was the loud clinking of chains, something weighing on my arms. Sure enough, my wrists felt tight, as if in leather cuffs. They must be chained!

What's going on? I wish I could see.

I tugged, reaching for the contacts in my eyes, and felt the chain tighten. I am tethered!

My other senses seemed so much more alert. I felt my utter nakedness. Yet with the familiar sense of leather, on my neck and my wrists. And, judging by my toes, some kind of boots. Almost naked.

I could hear nature all around me. There was a fresh verdant smell. The flapping of wings on water, and a loud quack, told me I was near water. A smoky, ashy smell as I yanked the chain again indicated I was tethered near a campfire.

Was that footsteps? Yes. I could hear the crunching of the grass. Someone was approaching. Who? I felt a rush, fright, goose bumps.

My captor, surely He, tapped me lightly on my flank with what felt like a crop. He kept it up, here a touch, there a whack, until I was up on all fours.

I felt Him, smelled His musky scent, yet I heard no words, nor could I see Him. Who was He?

He tapped me atop my head, I lowered my head slightly. It was repeated until my lips touched His boot. A firmer slash across my rear instructed me. I started to lick by feel, cleaning His boots alternately, tasting the ash and dust.

It seemed like hours before His light tap told me to stop. I rose back on all fours. The crop explored my body, light slaps and slashes emphasizing my need to obey His control.

At last, it stopped, and I was pulled up to my knees by my long blond hair. I heard His footsteps as He circled me. When they seemed to be more distant, I was tempted to remove the contact lenses blinding my hazel eyes, but I remained as I was, fearful of being watched and dreading His crop.

After a while, I could hear His return. The crop put me back on all fours.

I waited, feeling the coarse Bermuda grass, hearing the ever present chirping and buzz of nature, and throbbing wherever the crop had found its mark.

Then He was behind me, one hand on the small of my back, the other spreading my legs wider.

Will He use me now? I felt something firm and slippery placed on my rump, then sliding down my crack! That was not He, it was cold. It was rolled around insistently, slowly yet firmly parting my sphincter. He eased it out and with strong fingers spread the slipperiness into me.

I wanted to bolt! But where was I to go, chained and blind?

The cool slippery firmness returned. It felt big, persistent. My anus betrayed me, yielding a little. Finding purchase, the phallus pressed ever deeper, opening my helpless body.

I braced and groaned as the widest part split me impossibly. Then it was in.

I heard Him walk away. Instinctively I tried to expel it. No! It was well seated, a part of me. As I moved something tickled my thigh. What? A tail? No! It must come out!

I remained on all fours until I could not hear Him, then rose to my knees, trying to reach back, tug it out. My chains, and the dildo's pear shape, frustrated all my efforts.

All too soon I heard footsteps, and the clinking of bells.

Still on my knees, I was arrayed in leather. He seemed to be harnessing my body, tugging here, buckling there. Several times He unbuckled some of it, only to buckle it impossibly tighter!

My crotch strap seemed thankfully loose as He pulled me to my feet by my hair. I felt Him fiddling with my tail, seemingly sliding it out through a slit in the strap. Then my last free strap was pulled very tight, pressing the phallus deeper and crushing my labia.

I stood there, blind, chained, tailed and harnessed. Fortunately, my pussy betrayed me, lubricating that implacable crotch strap. I waited.

Soon I heard the clinking of bells again. Fingers on my left nipple, then a terrible pinch. The bells chimed happily, insensitive to the incredibly pain on my nipple. I could only gasp and submit to the doubled ache, as my other nipple was similarly captured.

He gathered up my long blond hair, making it into a ponytail from the top of my head. What was going on with all these tails?

Once more I was left alone. If I merely twitched, the bells would sing out merrily. So I stood motionless, overwhelmed by the assaults on my senses.

I did not notice His return, until He suddenly pinched my nose shut. My yelp of protest was cut short as He pressed something hard between my lips. It tasted of rubber. He tugged and buckled, always tighter. In no time I was bridled and bitted!

Still no words from Him, but I thought I heard a grunt of satisfaction as He walked away.

I stood there and stood there, blindly, in shock. My body ached in many places. My mouth was wedged open. My head and body were captive in webs of immense pressure. My rear was brutally spread, my nipples unbearably crushed. My nostrils flared as I breathed, my saliva pooled and dripped, and my tail sometimes tickled. Yet nature continued its delightful din, joined by my cruel bells.

Still I stood there and stood there. After a long while it dawned on me - He was turning me into a ponygirl! Incredibly, I was juicing, excited, almost orgasmic! What was happening to me?

At long last, I stirred from my stupor, alerted by something. Squeaking wheels? What on earth? It must be a pony cart!

He seemed to be placing the cart behind me. I felt my chains being removed, only to have my cuffs clipped to the carriage rods. Without warning, he cupped my generous breasts, then caressed my flank. My knees almost gave, as I gushed in heat and pleasure. Now I was truly a helplessly captive cart pony.

He gave me no time to feel much pleasure for myself. That crop returned, whacking my rump. I stood there, alert. He placed the crop behind my left knee and pressed. When I did not react, He cropped my thigh and pressed behind my knee again. It took four whacks before I understood His wordless instructions and raised my left leg. Clearly incorrectly, as He kept at me with the crop until I raised my leg the way He wished, thigh horizontal, calf vertical, toe pointed.

We repeated this until I had it down perfectly, needing a mere brush of the crop to comply.

I felt something being clipped to my bridle. Surely the reins?

He tugged and walked me around slowly. Any time I did not raise my leg perfectly, we would stop and I would feel the anger of the crop on my offending thigh. In no time He had me fully under control, high stepping the cart about, the squeaking wheels and the singing bells adding to the cacophony of the birds.

He pressed my head, and tugged my reins down, making me kneel. I heard Him walk behind me, felt the weight of the cart rods as He got into riding position. I kept kneeling. Twice He pulled hard on my reins, forcing my head back at a painful angle. He then pulled left, right, left, right, firmly in control.

There was an incredible cracking sound by my right ear. I almost died of fright, before realizing that the buggy whip was being tested.

A tug on my reins and a light use of that frightful whip on my rear told me to stand. A shake of the reins, followed by another loud crack of the whip, urged me into motion.

The cart did not move easily at first. Another insistent crack, and I was successful. I pulled the cart forward.

I had no idea, blinded, where I was going. But there was no need to see. The reins told me when to turn. The buggy whip told me when I was not pulling hard enough or not high stepping to perfection. The painful welts on my back and rear soon taught me to be the obedient, effective cart pony.

As I pulled, half dazed, I pondered if I was still debby, M's slave girl, or debby, the ponygirl of He, the firm and silent stranger. My body clearly betrayed me, in response. I instinctively pressed my thighs together. My high steps faltered. The kiss of His buggy whip jolted me back to the now, and I walked on.

TO BE CONTINUED IN Debby's Plight - Part 2

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Copyright © 1 September 2002, by SirJeff. All rights reserved.

Do not repost nor repurpose without permission.