Toby brought out an artificial ponytail. It was not realistic but made of a long lightly sprung tapered strip of the same white rubber that enclosed her arms that arched gracefully. Tails of any kind were seen rarely in Irontown these days, usually only on carriage ponies and then just for show. This one had a complicated plug mount of a type Sam had never seen before. He held it up to show her.
‘You’ll wear this at all times,’ he explained. ‘You can pass your wastes around it and even take a buggering with it in place. I believe it will help make you feel more like an animal.’
Sam shuddered.
The root of the tail was mounted on a cushioned rubber pad which was supported by a slender rubber-coated spring steel rod that bent back on itself. It then went past the tail pad and merged with the side of a short length of stiff rubber tube, slightly tapered, an inch in diameter at its narrowest.
From the box Toby took out a tube of lubricating jelly. ‘Spread your legs,’ he commanded. Feeling sick Sam obeyed.
Toby pushed a blob of the jelly up her anus and then forced the tapered tube into her anus. He slid it up inside her until the tail pad was pressed against her coccyx, so that the plume of the tail hung clear of her buttocks, and the return curve of the rod pressed against the side of her anal mouth from which it now appeared to emerge. The tail remained held in place by the tension of the sprung arm inside her pushing against the inside of her rectum. As she moved the light tail bobbed and swayed and she felt its complex mounting move inside her. She shuddered.
‘You’re already responding to its presence,’ Toby said. ‘That’s good. Do you know why girls ride hobby horses while mounted on phalluses? Because it’s like having their master’s cock inside them even when they’re running. What you can feel inside you now is a stand-in for my cock up your rear. You will learn to love it and worship it and submit to it and obey it as you would the real thing, and you will do whatever is required to please it.’
Even in the depths of her misery Sam thought that sounded weirdly egotistical. Was Toby a little obsessed? And now she was his plaything, his guinea pig, testing his theories!
Next he produced a specialised pony bridle. It was a clear plastic face mask that left only her eyes and nostrils uncovered and a round hole over her mouth. A split rubber bit with a “U” shaped kink in its middle pierced it from cheek to cheek. Rings hung from its ends. Beside the eye holes were thin black rubber blinkers that could be buttoned across them, turning them into blindfolds. The rim of the mask was hung with straps.
He pulled the mask over her head and pressed it against her face. The bit slipped between her teeth and pressed down her tongue. It was only slightly malleable and gave little, so her face had to conform it its contours. He pulled the straps tight behind the back of her head, under her chin and over her crown. It pressed into her skin from forehead to chin and cheek to cheek, imprisoning her face. Her features were trapped and made immobile under a clear plastic skin, so that she could only roll her eyes about. Her forehead slave part mark showed clearly through it.
Toby looked at her confusion with satisfaction. ‘No, you can’t move your facial muscles now. That’s the idea. I don’t want to see human expressions on you anymore and you’ll soon learn it’s pointless to try to make them. All you can do is roll your eyes like a horse. I control what happens to the rest...’
He twisted her bit by its rings opening it up inside her mouth, the kinks in it turning up and down and forcing her teeth wide to frame the round hole in the mask. It was big enough she realised with dismay, to pass a cock through.
The final touch was a high white rubber posture collar that he buckled about her neck over her regular collar. It had slots in its sides to allow access to the rings of the inner collar and lifted her chin high so she could not hide her face.
Toby unfolded a full length mirror from the wall so she could see herself in it.
‘Now you’re my animal,’ he told her, with a dangerous gleam in his eye. ‘All mine. Nobody else will ride you or have you. I’m going to break you down and then make you into a perfect ponygirl! My ponygirl.’ He slid his hand down across her belly into her pussy. ‘Every bit of you belongs to me now to do with as I choose. You exist only to work and serve and give pleasure...’ He savoured his own words as he stirred his fingers in the deep cleft of her lovemouth, dipping into the tunnel of her vagina. Sam felt sick even as her recent slave training caused her juices to flow over his hand.
‘The response of a true slut!’ he said with amused contempt. ‘And people say slaves should have more freedoms! What else would you do with them? You exist to serve your masters...’
He pulled down a pair of wire ropes from the frame above and clipped them to the sides of her harness belt. He bent her forward and clipped more ropes to the shoulder rings of the harness. Then he pulled her legs up off the ground, bent her knees until her pony-shod feet were pointing at the ceiling and clipped ropes to their ankle rings. Suddenly she was suspended in mid air as though hogtied, with her thighs splayed, exposing her groin, with the flap of her bobbing tail playing peek-a-boo with her pussy.
Toby chuckled as he twisted her round, winding up the supporting cable and then letting go so that she unwound suddenly, spinning and yawing from side to side. Her dangling breasts bobbed and swung outward. For all his grand sounding theories he could still play with her like a schoolboy.
He unhooked his cattle prod and jabbed it into her buttocks as she spun. She bucked and shrieked through her wedged open mouth and out the hole in her bridle mask, making an odd hollow sound. He jabbed the prod into her bobbing breasts and she shrieked again.
‘This is just a taste of what you will suffer if you do not obey me absolutely,’ he told her. ‘I’m now the master of your pleasure and pain. Your pleasure will come from serving me. The pain will come when you do not do so absolutely and without hesitation. And I mean severe pain, something far worse than a spanking or a prodding. I’ve prepared something to break the will of even the most insolent and wilful slut. Here, I’ll show you...’
From between the racks of shelves he pulled out a foam rubber mat about the size of a thin mattress and laid it out under her suspended body. Sam whimpered as she saw it upper side was covered with holly leaves; gleaming glossy green and bristling with spines, which appeared to have been glued onto the mat.
‘I call it my bed of persuasion,’ Toby said. ‘It will be incredibly painful but it will not do your body any serious or long lasting damage. I want you to be able to run afterwards but never forget it.’ He moved round to the control box for the power hoist that supported the frame from which Sam hung.
The cable drum spun free and with a muffled shriek Sam dropped face first into the holly bed.
The sponge gave about her breasts, belly and hips, wrapping them in its spiny encrustation. As she sank into it only her face was protected by the bridle mask. A thousand pins seemed to jab into her flesh, stabbing into the nipples and vulva.
Sam shrieked in pain and shock, utterly helpless to lift her body off the bed of pain, while Toby looked down on her and smiled in satisfaction as she writhed about. The thought passed through Sam’s addled mind that it would hurt slightly less if she could make herself lie still instead of driving the spines even deeper into her skin. But even that slight respite was denied her.
Toby jabbed the cattle prod into the wet slot of her sex. It cracked and sparked deep in the folds of her vulva. Sam yipped and bucked her hips, convulsing and squirming, setting the wire ropes twanging and bouncing while gouging her flesh with the holly spines ever more deeply. The combined pain was indescribable.
Her bladder cut loose and she peed over the prod head and the holly bed. But that did not distract Toby. He held the prod inside her and kept pressing its trigger again and again, sending wave after wave of pain tearing through her. Were her pussy lips lighting up pink as each s
park shone through them, she thought wildly, as she shrilled and whinnied and neighed and sobbed as it went on and on...
When finally Toby at last pulled the prod out of her, Sam was left dazed and twitching, sprawled on the persuasion bed half conscious, wet with cold sweat and her own urine. He activated the winch motor, lifting her off the holly bed. Some spines driven deep into her flesh pulled out of her painfully, stretching her skin in tiny cones.
The whole front of her body was peppered with pinpricks of blood and simmered and burned, while her sex also throbbed and stung from the prod shocks, feeling as though it was crawling with biting ants. Toby slid the bed aside and then grasped her by the hair and forced her to look him in the eye.
‘Now, would you rather have more of that or my cock inside you?’ Toby asked.
Through her own tear-blurred eyes Sam saw in his face no compassion for her feelings, only a driving ambition. Trembling and snivelling wretchedly, Sam nodded wiggled her hindquarters in desperate unwilling invitation. Of course she would rather have him inside her thousand times over rather than lie on the bed again. She had no choice and no pride left. Now it was a matter of survival.
He moved behind her, stepping between her splayed thighs. She felt his stiff cockhead slid into her tingling vagina. Miserably she clamped her sheath about it in false welcome. Taking hold of her hips he began to pump into her with sharp, brutal thrusts.
‘You will learn to respect my cock above everything else,’ he told her as he reamed her out. ‘When you are harnessed to my rig you will be impaled on rubber dildos moulded from my own manhood. When we ride for the Lister Cup I will be inside you all the time.’
Oh God he was totally obsessed, Sam thought wretchedly.
With a final jerk Toby came inside her. Sam felt nothing. Even Hatchet and Shears had moved her more than this.
He pulled out of her and moved back round to her head where he thrust his soiled shaft through the hole in her bridle mask into her mouth for her to clean off as best she could. As she did so his sperm began to drip from her cleft onto the floor.
‘Remember the taste of my seed,’ he commanded. ‘That is the taste of your master’s essence. You will come to love it more than anything else.’
Sam tried not to be sick.
The briefest flicker of a smile crossed his face when he finally pulled his cleaned member out of her mouth and buttoned up. He freed her legs, allowing her to swing upright, and with an antiseptic wipe cleaned the smears of blood from her breasts and belly. Sam looked down at herself, fearful she had been badly cut, but all there was to show for all that pain was red blotchy skin and a few minor pinpricks and scratches. Yet it had felt so terrible. Her relief was tempered with the knowledge that he could do it to her again any time he chose.
‘Now I’m going to begin your pony training in the exercise shed,’ he said.
Uncoupling Sam completely from the ceiling ropes he set her on her feet and led her out of the harness shop. His sperm was still dribbling out of her while her stinging breasts bobbed as she tottered after him, trying to get used to the feel of her new hooves. Toby took her across the yard to a side door of the big green shed.
The shed had several clear skylight panels let into its roof to provide illumination. It was divided by tall partitions into a series of compartments of different sizes. Through those doors that were open Sam glimpsed an array of exercise and restraint devices. It was like the exercise paddock at the Foundry but totally enclosed.
‘Our members are encouraged to personally discipline their ponies,’ Toby said. ‘That sometimes requires specialised equipment and a degree of privacy.’
This was not how they did things at the Foundry, Sam thought. Who draws the line between discipline and outright cruelty? If she ever got out of this she would make sure this place was thoroughly inspected.
They came to a large compartment containing a four-armed rotary exerciser that was heavier either than the one they had at the Foundry, or that Hatchet and Shears had used on her. This was because on the ends of its arms were not simple collar clips but heavy wooden yokes, braced by cables from the top of the centre post.
‘We like our ponies to be well loaded,’ Toby said.
He positioned Sam under one of the wooden yokes. Two of them were long beams with holes for wrists as well as the neck and two were rectangular slabs with neck holes alone. It was one of these that he closed about Sam’s neck. Its underside was padded with foam rubber. Toby slackened its bracing wire and the weight of it descended up her shoulders. She felt herself sag under it. She could never carry this! Except that she had no choice.
The yoke block had a pair of hooks on coil springs bolted to its lower edge. Toby hooked them to her nipple rings. The tension stretched them painfully upward, curling about the bottom of the yoke block.
There was a metal-banded rubber dildo on the end of a long loop of coiled electrical cable hung on the supporting arm. Sam shuddered as she guessed it purpose. Toby uncoiled the cable and slid the dildo up into her rectum so it rested beside the tail mount rod, doubly stuffing her. It also had spring hooks set on its base. Toby slipped these between her legs and hooked them to her labial rings, holding the dildo in place so she could not expel it.
‘You will run at the pace I set for as long as I choose,’ he told her. ‘While you are here all training procedures are to be carried out until you drop, or I choose to end them. That is how you will learn to give your all.’
The control box for the device was mounted by the door of the compartment. He set the dials and Sam whinnied as she felt a stabbing jolt of pain up her rear. Fearfully she began to trot forward, turning the exerciser frame with her. The yoke block jolted against her chest and shoulders, tugging on her nipples. How long could she possibly keep up this pace?
‘I’ll be back to see how you’re getting on later,’ Toby told her sternly. He tapped the control box. ‘This keeps a record of how many turns you do. If it’s not enough I’ll put you on the bed again. By the way, the shocks get more intense each time.’
He walked off, leaving her trotting round and round with her plugged backside and yoked nipples.
Sam had to struggle to stop herself from crying in rage and frustration. It was so unfair! She had no goal to aim for; no way of knowing if she had done enough to please her master. But then that was the idea.
Soon she was lathered in sweat and the yoke felt more like lead than wood, but she dare not slow down. Fear of the terrible holly bed drove her on. But no ponygirl ever had to bear such a load. Rigs were balanced so that she only had to pull. She was probably exercising the wrong set of muscles. It was all mad.
Round and round she went. The endless procession of the joints in the boards that made up the partition walls became hypnotic. How long had she been on this hellish merry-go-round?
Her legs felt as though they were on fire and her knees were buckling with each stumbling step. She was scraping the ground with her hoof tips instead of lifting them cleanly. She stumbled and received an agonising jolt up the rear before she could find her pace again.
Her mind began to wander. Please come back and free me, Master, she found herself thinking. I’m sorry I thought those bad thoughts about you. I just want to please you. But please tell me I can stop!
Then the ground came up and hit her as she collapsed into the dirt, the rotary arm hinging against its tension springs. The weight of the yoke pinned her down. She did not have the strength to rise. The dildo was stabbing electric knives up her backside again and again but she was past caring. It was over and all she wanted to do was sleep...
* * *
Sam was woken by a bucket of cold water being thrown over her face. The yoke and the dildo had been removed. Toby was standing over her. Even as she coughed and spluttered he took hold of the front of her harness and hauled her to her feet. Her legs felt l
ike rubber and she could hardly stand.
‘That was adequate for your first session,’ he said. ‘But tomorrow you’ll do better.’
The terrible thing was she felt a brief surge of pathetic gratitude towards him for ending her torture. Such power he now had over her.
He led her out of the shed to the yard. To her surprise the sun was low in the sky. How long had she been on the machine or unconscious?
Toby halted her in front of a stable door that bore her pony name: TOPAZ. A tight-lipped lad was waiting for them who nodded to Toby gravely.
‘This is Luke,’ Toby said. ‘He’ll be your groom. He has strict instructions on how to look after you. When you’re not being exercised or being ridden out in the paddocks you’ll be kept in your stall. You’re not a house pet. You’ll sleep like a pony because that’s what you are...’
Toby handed Sam over to Luke and walked off.
Without a word Luke led her inside the stall.
It was about five feet wide and eight deep, and was fitted with an elaborate set of straps hanging from a frame fitted to the ceiling which was connected via pulleys to a wire rope windlass bolted to one wall. On the wall opposite was bolted and plumbed in a complex folded double hose and pump device. There was a second smaller hose, bottle and hopper-like device mounted on the wall above it. There was also a rack for cloths, comb, soap, towel, toothbrush and a bucket.
Luke stood Sam under the ceiling frame and clipped the straps to a hook on the top of her bridle, her shoulder and belt rings and her ankle rings. A pair of straps with padded sections he also passed under her arms and about her upper thighs. Taking up a spreader bar that had been leaning against the wall he pulled her feet apart and clipped it to her ankle rings. The bar had a short chain fitted to its middle. A snaphook on the end of this clipped to a ringbolt recessed in the floor. Then Luke cranked the windlass. The frame rose, lifting Sam off her feet. He locked it off with her rubber-hoofed feet dangling a few inches above the floor.
Ponygirls of Irontown Page 16
