GEETWO STORIES - PAGE 049
- ONE POUND PONY GIRL -
Part - III
When Gabrielle finally came down from her sexual “high” it was to find herself alone and still firmly chained to the floor rings in her Master’s farmhouse. Now that she was no longer distracted, every muscle in her body seemed to be protesting while her whip-striped bottom smarted as if she had been stung by a swarm of bees. She supposed there was nothing to be done about any of it until her Master chose to release her and was just starting to try to take her mind off her discomfort by remembering how incredible her orgasm had been ... and then it suddenly dawned on her.
She was thinking like a slave ... passively accepting everything that had been done to her as if it was perfectly reasonable behaviour for a man to kidnap a woman, bind and gag her and then whip her to an enforced orgasm if she failed to have the right expression on her face. She tensed in her bonds and then slowly and unwillingly forced herself to relax as best she could. Remembering that whether it was reasonable or not, she was a prisoner and while she remained in the hands of her Master, she had no option but to endure whatever pain or pleasure he chose to inflict on her.
It was neither right nor fair, but that was not relevant to her situation. Her best hope was for her to be what he wanted her to be ... Wasn’t it? She remembered how terrified she had been at the edge of the meadow and her gratitude and relief when her Master opened the door and she had fallen into his strong arms. Her feelings of excitement when he had made her kneel and display her body to him. Even how beautiful and desirable she had felt as his eyes drank in her every curve and hollow.
It was true that he had whipped her without mercy, but at the same time he had given her the most intense and satisfying climax that she had ever had. It had been a complete revelation to her. She had never imagined such extreme pleasure was even possible, let alone that it could have been brought about by the two completely opposite sensations of pain and pleasure.
Somehow it had ... and Gabrielle shivered involuntarily as she was brought face-to-face with the uncomfortable and frightening fact that she would never have ... could never have achieved such undreamed-of heights of ecstasy if she had been free and able to exert some level of control over the situation and her own body. It had been the fact that she was in bondage and powerless to influence what was done to her that had forced her to go far beyond the limits she would have set for herself and experience for the first time the awesome depths of total sexual submission.
Gabrielle took a deep, deep breath and then began to examine her feelings and emotions as carefully and deliberately as she could, searching for the truth about her true character and innermost desires. For long minutes she stared, unseeing, at the wooden floor before her and her breathing slowed as she concentrated intently, then, as if waking from a trance, her eyes re-focussed and she gave a soft sigh. If her bit-gag had allowed it, Gabrielle knew she would have been smiling, for she had found her answer ... her truth ... and would follow wherever it led. She accepted that it would be hard and often embarrassing ... sometimes even painful and frightening, but those demons she would have to deal with as they arose. For her, there was no other path. Not for a naturally submissive slave.
It was very late when Matthew returned to his pony-slave and as he walked up behind her, his erection stiffened and bulged to the erotic sight of her jutting, whip-striped buttocks, spread thighs and glistening sex. He was her Master and as her only duty was to please and satisfy his desires he saw no reason why she should not serve him there and then.
He unzipped his trousers and knelt behind her and as his fully erect maleness slid into the hot, slippery channel of her sex, Gabrielle gave a wordless squeal and her body surrounded him with moist heat as she pressed back against his belly and thighs, impaling herself on his hardened shaft. It was not the reaction he had anticipated from her so early in her training, but he was not about to complain and merely assumed that her fear of another whipping was so great that she dared not try to hold back and was desperate to please him.
As she should be he thought smugly and sent his hands snaking around her waist to fasten on her taut breasts and then rolling her sensitive nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. After coming to her momentous decision, Gabrielle had fallen into a shallow doze filled with erotic dreams of bondage slave-girls and when her Master’s thick shaft penetrated her sex, her reaction was entirely the product of her subconscious mind’s preoccupation with submissive sexual fantasies. By the time her eyes sprang open and she was fully aware of what was happening, she was already filled with his erect flesh and her nipples held prisoner by his fingers. It was as if her dreams had come to life and as Gabrielle felt his hands on her breasts and his shaft begin to lunge into her gaping sex, a monstrous orgasm thundered into her belly and sprays of her heated juices showered down to bathe her Master in the hot rain of her immediate submission.
With a deep groan of pleasure as he felt her internal muscles convulse around his maleness as she came, Gabrielle’s Master drove into her with all of the masculine power at his command, pounding deeper and deeper into her seething belly and squeezing her throbbing nipples as she screamed in the helpless ecstasy of her first climax and the onset of her second. In a matter of seconds, Gabrielle came again and as her body shuddered wildly to the frenzied pulsing of her flooded belly, her eyes bulged and she gave a shrill wail of disbelief as her Master’s distended organ bludgeoned to the very core of her being and the hosing jets of his seed poured into her body to trigger her third shattering orgasm in as many minutes.
With her brain in as much turmoil as her body, Gabrielle whimpered brokenly as he withdrew from her churning belly, for she had learned what it was to be used as a full slave by a totally dominant Master and knew that the path she had chosen ... the path of full and absolute submission would demand far more from her than she had ever envisaged in her wildest imaginings. More than she could have
imagined ... and perhaps more than she could give.
Sagging in her bonds and with her body still shaking from ongoing mini-explosions that racked her belly, she felt her Master’s hands release the clips at her knees, the chain between her collar and single-glove and then unbuckle the straps that had held her bit-gag between her teeth for so long. She winced as the bit was pulled from her mouth and then groaned as her jaws protested at being forced to move after their extended immobility.
“I imagine you could do with a bit of a break, slave,” her Master’s voice came from above her still firmly tethered head, “and you must be thirsty by now. I’ll lengthen that chain for you.”
He did, but only by the length of the chain he had taken from her single-glove, still leaving her only about a foot of movement. Even so, that was cause for Gabrielle to be thankful and she twisted her head to look shyly up at him and whisper.
“Thank you, Master. I am grateful.”
“Good. Then I will fetch you some water.”
He strode from the room but there was a shock in store for Gabrielle, for when her Master returned and squatted down beside her, she saw that he held a stainless steel dog’s bowl in his hand. He placed it on the tiles in front her and spoke again.
“There you are, slave. Go ahead and drink your fill.” then sat back and waited with a great grin on his face.
It was obvious to Gabrielle what he meant to make her do, but she didn’t want to believe he would humiliate her so cruelly and knew that her only hope of making him relent was to keep a tight hold on the anger she felt inside.
“Master, I can’t drink without my arms.”
“Oh yes you can, slave.” he chuckled and Gabrielle dropped her eyes to prevent him seeing how furious she was. “Don’t forget, slave, that you are here to be trained as a pony-girl and ponies seem to manage without arms, now don’t they?”
Gabrielle stayed silent, refusing to dignify such a ridiculous statement with an answer.
“I said, don’t they, slave. Answer me, or I shall be displeased with you and you know what that means, don’t you?”
Gabrielle was beaten and she knew it.
“Yes, Master. Ponies manage without arms, Master.”
“That’s right. And so will you. Now, drink before I lose patience with you.”
The barely veiled threat was perfectly clear and Gabrielle knew that the ‘discussion’ was over. Any further delay on her part would be to risk yet another meeting between her bottom and his crop.
“Yes, Master.” she replied quickly, deciding that a little humiliation was much better than a lot of cropping and lowered her head to the bowl. Without the use of her arms and with the posture collar clamping her neck stiffly, she found it surprisingly difficult to get her lips near the water. The rim of the bowl kept getting in the way, her long hair constantly fell over her eyes and it certainly didn’t help to hear her Master chuckling at her efforts and warning her that if she spilled any of the water, she would be made to suck it up and then lick the floor dry.
After several fruitless attempts which nearly tipped the bowl over, Gabrielle finally managed to find a position which enabled her to succeed and her Master clapped his hands ironically as she managed to suck most of the water into her parched mouth. It tasted heavenly and she felt a glow of pride as he congratulated her.
“Well done, slave! I knew you could do it. Just as well, really, because most of your meals will be from that bowl while you’re being trained.”
Gabrielle’s pride in her achievement dimmed as she learned the bad news, but as that glow faded, a new and completely different glow warmed her belly. A glow of anticipation at the thought of being made to eat and drink in exactly the same way as a real pony for as long as her Master ordered.
“Yes, Master.” she replied softly as she gazed humbly up at the man she must obey and serve, “As my Master wishes.”
He stared down at her, his expression softening, “You seem to be really getting into this, slave,” he said quietly, “Perhaps I misjudged you. At this rate of progress it may not take as long as I expected to turn you into a fully trained slave and pony-girl.”
Gabrielle hesitated, then gave a tremulous smile, “I-I will do my best, Master,” she murmured softly, “And I do have a-a strong and skilful Master to teach me and ... and correct my failings, Master.”
He grinned with pleasure, “Thank you, slave. I shall try not to disappoint you and will make quite certain that I correct any failings you may have. As often as necessary.”
He held her blue eyes with his own until her cheeks reddened and she was forced to drop her gaze from his.
Why, oh why, she wondered, had she mentioned having her ‘failings’ corrected? As if she wasn’t in enough trouble already, she had virtually asked him to punish her and as her belly coiled with slow, delicious heat, she knew that he would and realised that she wanted him to ... Her body began to tremble with a mixture of fear and excitement as she remembered the fiery caress of leather on her naked flanks and the way that seemingly-unbearable pain had suddenly changed to incredible, overwhelming ecstasy and masochistic lust at the first touch of her Master’s hand between her thighs.
It had been more…vastly, wonderfully more…than she would have believed she could take and even now, hours later, as she gazed up into the dark pools of her Master’s eyes, she could almost feel the cruelly-sweet bite of his crop on her tautly stretched bottom and the merciless havoc his fingers had created in her sex and belly as he imposed his absolute dominance over her and subjugated her utterly to his will.
Gabrielle knew she wanted ... no, ... needed more.
Feeling her belly churn with swirling heat she was powerless to resist, Gabrielle slowly raised her head as much as she could and gazed humbly up at her Master.
“Make it soon, Master.” she whispered softly, “Please, my Master, I beg to be trained to serve you in any way you command ... and ... and ... to be p-p-punished if I am not fully pleasing.”
It was a quite astonishing request from one so new to slavery and in order to cover up his surprise, her Master coughed and then snapped.
“Head down, slave and be silent.”
For almost a full minute there was complete silence as both he and Gabrielle contemplated the implications of what she had just asked. She with a good deal of nervous trepidation about the future to which she had committed herself, and he with growing delight at the unexpected turn of events. He had never doubted that she would, eventually, submit to her bondage and captivity, or he would never have chosen her in the first place. Nevertheless, the speed of her submission had taken him aback and he needed time to re-organise the time-scale of his plans for her. He bent to release the chain tethering her to the floor ring and lifted her to her feet, putting a stern expression on his face.
“It is not for a slave to decide when and how she is to be trained and disciplined.” he told her firmly, “That is for her Master. Remain silent and follow, slave.” and he strode to a door at the far end of the room.
Fearing that she had somehow displeased him, Gabrielle stumbled across the room, her ankle hobble chain rattling on the polished wood as she hurried to his side. He drew back two heavy bolts and pulled open the heavy door.
“In, slave!” he ordered and Gabrielle obeyed, her heart pounding as she snatched a hasty glance at his unsmiling face.
Behind the door was a long, low room, its walls festooned with all manner of pony-girl harnesses and bondage equipment, but Gabrielle was given no time to dwell on the sight as her Master simply informed her.
“This is the tack room, slave.” and hurried her through a second securely bolted door that led into a much smaller, windowless room and as Gabrielle walked in, she knew at once that this was to be her new ‘home’. To her left were two square loose-boxes, much smaller but otherwise very similar to dozens that she had seen at every horse show she had ever attended, even down to the straw on the floor. The only additions to what she recognised were the vertical steel bars that rose from the floor to the low ceiling and formed the front and side walls and as she saw them, Gabrielle realised that her ‘home’ was also to be her prison. A prison whose inmate ... her ... would be in plain view at all times.
“Yours will be that one.” her Master pointed to the first stable, then gestured to the opposite wall. “The loo is in there.” Gabrielle was relieved to see that it at least was enclosed and private. “Shower there. Basic, but quite adequate and there’s shower gel on the floor.” he pointed again and she saw that it was merely a pipe with a shower-rose sticking out of the bare wall with ... ominously, a large black iron hook set into the wall just below it. He moved behind her.
“Stand still, slave, and I’ll release your arms.”
As he slid the long zipper downwards, her ruthlessly tensioned elbows sprang apart and she moaned to the exquisite agony of pins-and-needles as he unbuckled the strap at her wrists and worked the reinforced bag off her hands. Then it was the turn of the posture-collar, ankle and knee cuffs, high-heeled boots and finally, the Basque. Gabrielle was free for the first time in many, many hours. Free and totally naked. Watching her carefully, her Master allowed her to work the stiffness from her aching body, then walked to the door and chuckled unfeelingly.
“You’ll soon get used to it, slave. You’ll have to, won’t you? Right! You’ve got ten minutes to freshen up, then I’ll be back to tuck you into bed. Oh, and I’ll bring a towel back with me. Can’t think how I managed to forget that.” and his mocking laughter was punctuated by the closing door.
The instant it closed, Gabrielle dashed for the loo, then feeling a lot happier, she emerged and hurried to the shower, desperate to clean off the accumulated sweat and sticky residue of her numerous climaxes and wash her hair. Below the shower was a single button and when she pressed it a deluge of heavenly warm water cascaded down on her as she rinsed herself and then moved away to lather the shower gel all over her hair and body as the button, seemingly on a timer, popped out and the flow of water stopped.
Covered from head to foot in creamy, sweet-smelling suds, she stood back under the shower and pressed the button.
Nothing happened and she frowned and pressed again. Still nothing ... and she heard an amused chuckle from behind her.
She whirled around and saw her Master smiling from the open door, a fluffy towel draped around his neck.
“Having trouble, slave?”
She blushed and her hands flew to cover her breasts and sex. Then her blush deepened as she remembered that she had no secrets from him. Not any more. She let her hands drop to her sides and he frowned.
“Is that how a slave displays her body to a Master?”
“No, Master!” she said quickly, “I’m sorry, Master!” and jerked her arms behind her back and spread her thighs.
“Better.” he nodded briefly, “Now, would you like to rinse all that gel off?”
“Then put these on. Here. Catch.”
Steel glittered as it spun under the lights and clattered to the floor at her feet before she had time to react.
Gabrielle stared down at the handcuffs and was instantly aware of a familiar warmth percolating through her belly.
“Well?” her Master asked, “Do you want to rinse, or not?”
Slowly, she bent down to pick up the open cuffs and snapped them onto her wrists, then turned and without hesitation stretched her body onto the tips of her toes and just succeeded in flicking the handcuffs’ six-inch linking chain over the hook set into the wall. Facing the wall and with her suds-covered body drawn up to its full extent, she managed to turn her head and smile at her Master.
“Your slave is ready to be rinsed now, Master.”
He smiled back.
“Is she now? And what if I decide to leave you as you are, slave?”
“Then your slave will have to stay here, un-rinsed, Master.” Gabrielle grimaced. “The hook is too high for her to reach.”
“Yes, I know. I designed it that way. I’ve had a lot of work done in the last few weeks, slave and all of it carefully based on your size and height and weight.” His answer confirmed everything that Gabrielle had suspected. No wonder the Basque and collar and boots had fitted perfectly. They had been custom-made ... solely for her. What could she say, except.
“Thank you, Master. I hope I will be worth it.”
He grinned and moved towards her.
“You already are, slave.”
Any answer that Gabrielle might have given was lost in her soft cries and whimpers of pleasure as his hands roamed unchecked over her soapy nudity, exploring her every curve and recess as she tugged vainly at her imprisoned wrists and her arousal surged ever higher. Until, as he thrust his fingers deep into her sex, Gabrielle gave a high-pitched scream and wailed.
“Your slave is coming, Master. She’s coming. She’s coooommmming!”
Her body juddered and bucked against his hand as she surrendered to the fire he had ignited in her. He stepped back to watch as her orgasm peaked and slowly started to wane, then he punched the shower button and grinned as Gabrielle spluttered and gasped under the torrent of water that rinsed every trace of soap and sex from her body. The water that had a five minute delay switch which he had activated from the tack room at the appropriate moment. When the flow ceased, he let her wait for a minute while he enjoyed the delightful view of water trickling from her breasts and down her thighs, then he lifted her down from the hook and dried her with the towel without removing her handcuffs.
“Master ... ” she began, then fell silent as he placed a finger to her lips.
He led her to her stable and as soon as she saw the heavy leather padlock-collar which awaited her, she sank gracefully to her knees and lifted her head in passive submission. Without a word, he slipped the collar about her throat and snapped the padlock to the gleaming chain which rose to a ring in the wall and only then did he remove her handcuffs.
As he walked to the door to lock her in for the night, Gabrielle looked up ... and smiled.
Gabrielle drifted slowly upwards from a deep well of unconsciousness, her eyes fluttering and her lips curving into a sleepy smile as she savoured the delicious eroticism of the images that had filled her dreams. Through half-closed eyes she looked without recognition at a fence of tall iron bars and her brow furrowed as her sleep-dazed brain tried to imagine why Matthew would have such an odd thing in his bedroom? Her eyes sprang open and she gave a low squeal of alarm as the thought of Matthew triggered a host of memories.
Instantly she knew exactly where she was ... and why. She knew, too, that her thrilling dreams had not been dreams at all, but memories of real events. Every vivid fantasy that had filled her rest with shamefully-explicit visions of bondage and sexual subjugation had actually taken place and been faithfully recorded in the memory-bank of her mind, only to be re-played to her as she slept.
She remembered everything ... the moment she allowed herself to be bound for the first time ... the incredible combination of cropping and arousal that had eventually led her to beg to be trained to serve as a pony-slave ... right up to her screams of ecstasy and willing submission to her Master’s hands as she dangled from the hook under the shower.
The hook to which she had secured her own wrists. A pink glow of embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she sat up quickly, but as soon as she moved, there was a rattle of chain and she felt weight at her throat, then she remembered that, too and as her hands followed the steel links up to the leather collar padlocked around her neck, Gabrielle shivered, knowing that she was not going anywhere until her Master released her. Unless he had had a dramatic change of heart overnight, that wouldn’t happen until after she had been re-harnessed and was again helplessly bound and gagged.
Surprisingly, she found herself able to face the prospect quite calmly, even rather looking forward to being at Matthew’s mercy and having to obey him and as she remembered how totally he had dominated her and forced her to surrender to the incredible ecstasy of her own passions, a fierce, hot flame of sexual arousal ignited in her belly. Ashamed of her immediate response to her thoughts, she tried to distract herself by rising to her feet and examining the horse where she had spent the night. It was ten feet square, the rear wall of bricks and the others formed by thick steel bars, its stone floor covered in straw, there was nothing to take a watcher’s eye away from the occupant and Gabrielle quickly realised that there was no way she could hide her nudity from anyone on the other side of the bars.
Without thinking, she moved towards the door, only to be jerked to a halt as the chain to her collar snapped taut with her outstretched hand still a foot or so away from the large padlock which secured the gate. No matter what she did, her fingers couldn’t reach the lock and as this fresh evidence of Matthew’s determination to hold her captive sank into her brain, her eyes widened at the confirmation that he was completely serious about his plans for her. He meant to turn her into an obedient, docile pony-slave and although the idea appealed to her more than she cared to admit to herself, Gabrielle was frighteningly conscious that if she allowed herself to submit, there might be no going back.
She wanted to please him and couldn’t deny that her experiences of the previous evening as his harnessed, bit-gagged and utterly defenceless sex-toy, had been the most incredible and intensely satisfying sexual adventure of her entire life.
His uncompromising dominance and ruthless plundering of her body had unlocked something deep down in the furthest recesses of her brain and freed a side of her nature that Gabrielle had not even suspected that she possessed. A deep vein of submissive, slightly masochistic passion that had transformed her fear into arousal, her humiliation into ferocious need, her despair into unbearable longing and even the pain of her whippings into overwhelming pleasure and she knew that it would be so, so easy, to surrender to the seductive allure of permanent slavery ... to simply give in to her awakened desires for bondage and subjugation ... to accept her fate and the ecstatic rapture of serving her Master as a full and willing slave.
Knowing what such a total surrender would mean ... did she dare to give herself so completely?
“Hmm. Slow, pony-girl. Very slow.” he said flatly, “You will have to do better if you wish to avoid punishment. Now, put these on behind your back and kneel in the centre of your stable.” and tossed the handcuffs to the straw at her feet.
Gabrielle looked down at the cuffs, then raised her eyes to his face.
“Uh ... now look, Matthew.” she said slowly, “We need to talk, darling.”
“Do we?” he replied calmly. “Very well, Gabrielle. Talk to me, then.” and began to tap the crop against his polished boot.
She took a deep breath.
“I’ve been thinking about being your pony-girl and I’m pretty sure I can do it. For a while, anyway, but not forever. I mean, yesterday was great and just amazingly exciting, being tied up and harnessed and having to obey you and-and please you and everything ... but we’ve both got to be realistic, haven’t we? There’s no way we can play games permanently, even if we both want to, can we? I’ve got a job and a living to make, haven’t I?”
“Hmm.” his lips pursed in thought, then he grinned. “Not today, pony-girl. It’s the weekend, or had you forgotten? We don’t have to think about boring things like your job for almost another forty-eight hours.”
Gabrielle had forgotten and as she saw his grin and jumped to the conclusion that the end of the weekend would also bring an end to her captivity, she giggled in relief.
“Oh, well, in that case ...” and she sank to her knees to pick up the cuffs.
Fitting the first steel ring around her left wrist, she closed it carefully to a snug fit, then put her arms behind her and fumbled with the second cuff until she managed to get it around her other wrist. With a deep breath, she squeezed firmly and as the ratchets clicked, fierce heat coiled in her belly to the knowledge that she was at his mercy again.
“Up.” he ordered casually and when she rose to her feet, he unlocked the chain to her collar and replaced it with a leather leash, using it to lead her from her stable, through the tack room and into the main lounge. Her nostrils twitched to the delicious scent of cooking and she suddenly realised how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten for almost twenty-four hours and when he led her over to the table and told her to kneel beside his chair, she obeyed at once and arched her spine to display her body as he flipped up a floor tile and knotted her leash to the ring beneath it.
“Much better, pony-girl.” he said approvingly and Gabrielle flushed with embarrassed pleasure as his eyes drank in her posed nudity, “I’ll fetch breakfast and then we’ll start your training.”
Her pleasure was short-lived, for when he returned, his meal was on a normal plate, while hers was in the steel dog bowl. Her mouth opened to protest, but he murmured.
“If you’re not hungry, I can always take it away, pony-girl.” she bit back her objections and made herself accept the humiliation, bending low to nuzzle at the food. Thankfully, he ate his breakfast in silence, not adding to her frustration and shame as she chased her food around the bowl until her lips could fasten on the eggs and bacon and sausage and when she had finished, he simply used his napkin to clean the food smears off her chin and cheeks without comment.
“OK,” he said calmly, “Time to get you harnessed,” and untying her leash from the ring, he let her rise and took her to the tack room.
A delicious warmth rippled through her belly as he began to fit her with her pony-girl uniform and as the Basque tightened to compress her already-slim waist and the spike-heeled boots added inches to her height, she watched herself in the full-length mirror, secretly delighted and only a little embarrassed by the way her body was enhanced and displayed by the revealing costume. She hesitated when he picked up the posture-collar, remembering how restrictive and controlling it was, but as he paused.
“Problem, pony-girl?” she reminded herself that she was only playing a game with him and would have to be freed to return to work after the weekend.
“No, Master.” she replied humbly and arched her neck to allow him to buckle the heavy leather around her throat after removing her padlock-collar and leash.
“Good!” he chuckled, “Only your single-glove, hobble and bridle to fit, then you’ll be all set, won’t you?”
With the handcuffs removed from her wrists, she winced and complained as the leather clamped her arms behind her back,.
“Oof, that’s awfully tight, Matth-Master. Couldn’t you loosen it just a bit? Please. You know I can’t get free even if I wanted to.”
He smiled at her.
“True,” he agreed, “but do you want to free yourself?”
Gabrielle felt her face flush.
“Well ... No, not really.” she admitted shyly, “I ... like being tied up and-and at your mercy, Master. Knowing that you can do whatever you want to me and I can’t st-stop you.”
“Me too.” Matthew nodded, grinning, “So, as we both like you the way you are, there’s no need to loosen anything, is there? In fact, I think a little extra security wouldn’t hurt.”
Before she could react, he grabbed the discarded leather leash, snapped it into the ring on the front of her posture-collar and quickly knotted it to a convenient ring bolt, tethering her with only a few inches of slack. Fastened in place and unable to turn her head because of the posture-collar, Gabrielle could only tug vainly at the leather and protest as she felt three broad straps tighten around her wrists, forearms and biceps, welding her arms immovably and removing any hope of escape and as hobbles were buckled above her knees and connected with nine inches of thick chain, she shivered to the knowledge of her total helplessness.
“Open your mouth, pony-girl!” Matthew ordered firmly and as his crop flicked across her naked buttocks, she gasped in alarm and her belly flared with instant heat at the unmistakable message. She was a harnessed pony-girl and if she resisted or disobeyed, a punishment would inevitably follow. There was no choice and Gabrielle knew it. The cranked steel bar slipped into her open mouth and as straps tightened around and over her head, she whimpered in anguish and was forced to bite down on the rubber-covered steel intruder. Incapable of speech, she squealed and writhed as his hands snaked around her body to capture her breasts, his thumbs and fingers rolling and squeezing her delicate nipples to throbbing rigidity as he exerted his complete Mastery over her and forced her to respond. Fierce arousal raced through her belly as he ignored her futile efforts to evade his touch but he eventually took his hands away and chuckled.
“That’s enough for now, pony-girl. You’ve got work to do.” she whimpered in need and loss, wanting more.
She didn’t get it, for her needs and wants were no longer the deciding factors of what she got and as Matthew untied her leash and gave a firm pull, she had to follow where he chose to lead her, the chain linking her hobbles clinking musically as she stumbled forward on her towering high-heels. She hadn’t realised that it had rained hard overnight and when Matthew opened the door and she saw the sodden grass of the meadow, her spirits soared to her assumption that it meant her training would have to be postponed and that she would have the chance to use her feminine wiles to persuade him to spend the day in much more enjoyable activities.
Even fully harnessed and bitted as she was, she was still confident that she could seduce him and once she was in his bed, it would be up to her to convince him that a willing and enthusiastic lover would give him a lot more fun and pleasure than trying to train a reluctant pony-girl. Her reasoning was sound and her conclusions perfectly valid, but unfortunately, Gabrielle never got the opportunity to put her plan into operation. Without stopping, Matthew towed her out of the house and across the wet grass towards the much larger building she had noticed the night before, then pushed open the door and pulled her inside.
Disappointed by the failure of her idea, she took two steps and stopped dead, her eyes widening as she saw the thick layer of peat that covered almost the entire floor area and the well-worn track that formed a huge circle around a tall wooden post in the centre. With her love of horses, she recognised instantly what she was looking at and even before Matthew confirmed it, she knew that the building was an indoor riding arena. Except there were no horses! Only her ... and as Matthew added cheerfully.
“It’s a pity about the rain, pony-girl, but not to worry. We’ll just begin your training in here and move it outside when the paddock dries out.” she realised that not even bad weather was going to be able to help her.
Resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to put up with being trained as a pony-girl whether she liked it or not, Gabrielle made no resistance as he led her to the central post, then lifted a long coil of braided leather rope from a hook and snapped the clip at its end into the ring of her posture-collar before removing her leash.
“OK, pony-girl,” he said casually, dropping the rest of the rope to the floor, “let’s get on with it. Go out as far as the track and when the lunge-rein is taut, start walking anti-clockwise, making sure to keep your head up, your back straight and your knees lifting as high as the hobbles allow. Off you go!”
Gabrielle tried glaring at him, but he seemed impervious to the angry glitter in her eyes and when she saw his fingers begin to toy with the handle of the crop at his belt, she decided not to push him too far. He had already proved that he was quite prepared to enforce his orders by whipping her if he decided it was necessary and having felt the fiery bite of the crop, she had no desire to feel it again ... even though it had given her an incredibly intense orgasm.
Turning her back to him was a weak, even pathetically futile gesture, but it was the only way she could express her annoyance at him and although she was well aware that it wouldn’t make any difference, it made her feel a little better as she trudged reluctantly out to the track. The lunge-rein uncoiled smoothly behind her until, as she reached the peat circle, it lifted from the ground and she turned to her left as she felt its slight weight drag at her posture-collar, but not enough to affect her breathing or balance. The pull was nevertheless highly effective and insistent, its presence a constant, nagging reminder that she was controlled and no longer free to wander wherever she pleased. It was an extraordinary feeling and Gabrielle was still trying to decide whether she rather liked being restricted it, or hated it for limiting her freedom to a circle bounded by its length, when she heard Matthew call out.
“Walk on, pony-girl.” and felt a sharp, stinging pain at her left thigh.
She yelped in surprise, twisting her torso to stare at him and as she saw a long, thin coach-whip in his hand, her eyes widened in alarm.
“Walk on!” he repeated firmly, flicking his wrist to send the whip’s thong across her left buttock and Gabrielle squealed in anguish and stumbled forward, her bottom and thigh both smarting from the skilfully-delivered lashes, only to receive several more.
“Head up pony-girl! he ordered. “ Keep your back straight. And get those knees lifting. Higher. Higher, I said.”
Tethered by the lunge-rein, Gabrielle was unable to evade the whip by retreating and foolishly attempted to outrun it, her booted feet thudding on the peat and her hobble-chain clinking and rattling as she tried to escape its cruel torment.
“Whoa, pony-girl. Stop, dammit!” Matthew yelled, but panic had Gabrielle in its grip and she raced on, unheeding until her hobble-chain tripped her and she crashed to the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Dazed and winded, she lay in the dirt gasping for air as Matthew hurried over and knelt by her side, his eyes worried as he checked to ensure that she was uninjured, then he shook his head angrily.
“You crazy idiot. What did you think you were doing? You could have been really hurt. Don’t ever try that again, you scared me half to death.”
His concern was obviously genuine and as the laboured heaving of her breasts eased, Gabrielle flushed in shame and remorse, knowing that she had allowed her fears to get the better of her and that she should have trusted him not to really hurt her. Nodding her head, crinkling her eyes and mumbling around her bit-gag, she tried to tell him that she was all right as he frowned.
“You’re trying to tell me that you’re OK, are you?” she nodded repeatedly until he accepted her assurances.
“Right then,” he told her firmly, “You’ve learned your lesson, so let’s get you back on your feet and we’ll try that again.” Her eyes widened in dismay as she realised that he was going to continue her training and he saw her reaction and gave a deep chuckle. “What’s the matter, pony-girl? Surely you didn’t think a little tumble like that would get you out of training, did you? I’m not that soft, or that easy to persuade. It was all your own fault anyway, so come on, get on your feet and hurry up about it.”
With her arms useless to her and her knees hobbled, it was hard for Gabrielle to obey, and the task was certainly not made any easier when his crop cracked across her bottom and as she squealed to the fierce heat, he grinned and told her that he was getting impatient. Somehow, she managed it, but not before he had administered two more strokes to her buttocks, turning them a bright shade of red. Whimpering in pained despair at her undeserved punishment, she hollowed her spine, thrust her breasts forward and spread her thighs as much as she could, hoping her arched body would save her from any more cropping. It worked, but not quite as she had intended, because he simply smiled.
“Excellent, pony-girl. I see you’ve remembered how to display properly.” then reached out and captured her nipples, rolling the tender buds between his thumbs and fingers.
“You see, pony-girl,” he told her, continuing to fondle her, “training isn’t all about crops and punishment, you know. An obedient, well-disciplined little pony can earn herself nice rewards like this. It all depends on how smart she is and how quickly she realises that it’s in her best interests to try hard to be pleasing. I wonder how smart you are?”
Gabrielle stared pleadingly at his smiling face, her nipples stiff and throbbing with delicious need as he took his fingers away.
“That’s enough for now. If you want more, then you know what you have to do, don’t you?”
She wanted to scream and fight and stamp her feet in frustration, but understood that if she gave in to the temptation, it would only give him a reason to discipline her again and make her wait even longer for more of his touch. Despite knowing full well that he was using her sexual excitement and need as a training-tool she did want more! Feeling her cheeks flush, she gave a shame-faced nod of agreement.
“Good!” he said briefly and walked back to the post in the centre, picked up the coach-whip and ordered, “Continue.”
The whip cracked warningly behind her and Gabrielle resumed her long walk to nowhere, concentrating her whole attention on keeping her head up, spine straight and knees lifting high as her trainer and Master required ...