It’s about five o’clock when the doorbell rings. I’m working in my study, closing off a few deals before I head off to my villa in Tuscany tomorrow. The maid answers the door and I hear a familiar female voice in the hallway.
There’s a knock at the study door and Greta comes in. She’s 19, with dark shoulder-length hair and long, long legs, which are accentuated by the short black maid’s uniform I make her wear. Her build is actually quite similar to Jenny’s, which is something I think I can have some fun with later.
“There’s someone to see you, Sir. Miss Jennifer Harrison.”
“Okay, Greta. Put her in the living room and give her a drink. She’ll have to wait while I finish this. Tell her I’ll be about half an hour. Give her some magazines or put the TV on, whatever she wants.”
“She has a suitcase, Sir,” Greta informs me in the slightly disapproving tone she adopts whenever I have female company.
“Put it in the guest room. I’ll see about it later. Oh, and phone The Stable, book a table for two, about seven thirty.”
I'm pleased she's come. This morning I received an email from the stewards of the Ponygirl Fetish Club, there's been a complaint and they want me to attend an enquiry. Seriously? I'm tired of them and their bourgeois rules. I've just finished my reply to the Chairman.
'Dear Jim, Thank you for your email regarding the case of Steve Moist and Jennifer Harrison. Tomorrow I will be leaving for my estate in Tuscany and I am confident I will be accompanied by the said Miss Harrison. In the circumstances I think it is right to tender my resignation from the club and save you all the inconvenience of a tribunal. Yours etc ...'
Forty minutes later I make my way through to the living room. Jenny is on the settee, leafing idly through a pile of Vogue and Cosmopolitan back numbers, which Greta found for her.
“Jenny,” I say, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. You really should have phoned to let me know you were coming.”
“I’m sorry,” she replies, standing to receive a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve been very busy myself, a project I was rushing to finish, so I could get away.”
She’s wearing a dark blue business suit, very much the rising young executive. The skirt is almost knee length, but split at one side and I get a flash of stocking top as she sits back down. I sit beside her.
“I see Greta’s been looking after you,” I say, indicating a large pot of coffee on the table. “Do you want another drink while we talk?” She doesn’t, so I continue.
“How are things between you and the boyfriend … Steve, isn’t it?”
“We argued again. Before he went back to his conference I told him I wouldn’t be there when he got back. So, that’s that. It’s over.”
“Oh, I see. I don’t know whether to offer commiseration or congratulations.”
She grins. “Congratulations, definitely, Master Philip. It’s been finished for ages, it just needed something to give me a push.”
“Well, that’s good then, you’ve set yourself free. What will you do now?”
For a moment she looks really worried. “I thought you were offering me a chance to join your stable, to become a full time Ponygirl. That was what you said on Sunday, wasn’t it?”
“Is that what you want, Jenny? I hope you were paying attention when I told you what a big commitment I was asking you to make. It’s no small thing to give up your job, your friends, your life for what is, after all, just a fetish.”
“It’s more than that to me, Master Philip. I need it so much. After last weekend, I just know it’s all I want, to serve you, to work for you, to make you proud of me.”
I get up and draw her with me. “Let’s go through to my study. There are things we need to attend to.”
In the study I go to the safe standing against the wall behind my desk and open it. “Anything of value you have with you - money, credit cards, keys, driving licence, jewellery - you won’t need any of that as a Ponygirl. It can all go in the safe and you can retrieve it when you return.”
She hesitates. “But, surely I should take a credit card, in case something happens. How would I get home?”
“That’s my responsibility,” I answer. “Look, there’s a box here with your name on it. You put everything in here and then we lock it away where it will be secure.”
Somewhat reluctantly, she puts everything into the box, then I lock it away.
“Where is your passport?”
“I’ve got it here.” She takes it out of her bag.
“Give it to me.” She hands it over. “I’ll give it back to you when we go through customs and passport control, but at all other times I’ll look after it for you.”
She’s looking fearfully at the floor as I strip away everything that represents her control over her own life. I press a button on my desk phone and speak to the maid. “Greta, there’s a dress on the bed in the guest room. Would you get it for me and bring it to the study.”
“While we’re waiting, you can take off that suit and your top. You won’t need those kind of business clothes any more.”
By the time Greta comes in with the dress, Jenny is standing in her underwear and shoes, her suit and top folded in a neat pile on my desk. I can’t fault her for making an effort, the black concoction of silk and lace, combined with a suspender belt and stockings, is very sexy indeed. She looks hot and she knows it, but that’s just going to make her humiliation all the more painful to bear.
“Greta,” I say, “what do you think of Miss Harrison’s underwear?”
“It’s very nice, Sir,” Greta replies, picking up her cue immediately. “I would love to have underwear like that.”
“Well, Greta, Miss Harrison won’t be needing any of that where she’s going. You’re about the same size, I’m sure she’d like you to have it, wouldn’t you Jenny?”
She looks at me blankly. “Master Philip? My underwear?”
“Yes, Jenny. Take it all off and give it to Greta.”
Greta watches with a broad smile on her face as Jenny strips, handing over her expensive stockings, suspender belt, knickers and bra to the grinning maid. When she’s naked I pass her the dress to put on. It’s very short, in a thin clingy material, with a zip at the back and a scooped neckline.
“You can put your shoes back on now, Jenny." I tell her, Then, as if it was an afterthought, "Oh dear, you don't have any knickers. Give her your panties, Greta, she’ll need something to cover her down there when I take her out.”
Knowing my maid, her panties have become damp watching her rival undress and the look on Jenny’s face as she puts them on rather confirms that. Greta is enjoying the situation; she gets more than her share of my attention when I’m in London, but she’s still resentful of other women, even though I know, while I’m away, she will use my apartment to entertain a rota of partners of both sexes.
“Greta tells me you brought a suitcase with you, Jenny. Is it locked?”
Jenny looks puzzled at the question, but says, “No, Master Philip.”
“That’s good. You won’t be taking that with you, anything you need will be provided by me. Greta, while I’m away, if there’s any of Jenny’s clothes you feel like wearing, I’m sure she won’t mind. Have a look anyway, see if there’s anything you like.”
Jenny looks absolutely outraged. “Master Philip! Those are my things! They're personal!”
“So? I hope you’re not going to be a selfish Ponygirl. You’ll be sharing everything with the other ponies at the stable. Now, tell Greta that you’ll be happy for her to make use of the clothes you won’t need.”
I can see this is really getting to Jenny and she’s beginning to understand exactly what she’s giving up. She swallows hard, breathing a little heavily and stares straight ahead as she says, “Greta, I’ll be happy ...”
“Look her in the eyes,” I interrupt tersely. “In fact, I think you should kneel in front of her.”
She turns and gets down on her knees in front of the maid, who is trying really, really hard not to laugh openly. “Greta, please go through my suitcase and take any of my clothes that you would like to wear.”
“That’s better,” I say quickly. “You can go now, Greta.” Once the younger girl is out of the room, I raise Jenny to her feet. “I thought you’d like to have your last meal as a free woman in a decent restaurant. Greta’s made the booking and it’s just around the corner, so we can walk.”
The place we are going to is outwardly a pub called The Pony and Groom. At the back, however, is an exclusive restaurant called The Stable, which is where the well-healed fetish community hang out. A head-to-foot leather-clad dominatrix takes us to our table, where we are introduced to Toby and Joanne, our waiter and waitress for the evening.
Like the other waiting staff, these two are dressed in very revealing leather harnesses and both have their pubic hair shaved. Toby’s cock is strapped into a leather sheath, but I can see from the way Jenny looks at him that she can easily imagine what the leather is hiding. Joanne’s nipples are pierced and small bells are hanging from the rings. They tinkle every time she moves.
“Have you never thought of having your nipples pierced?” I ask Jenny when our orders have been taken and the waiters are gone.
“I have thought about it,” she says sheepishly, “but I was a bit afraid, and Steve wasn’t keen. Do you think I should?”
“I think piercings look good on a Ponygirl. But, I’m glad you haven’t had it done. I would prefer to make that decision for you myself.”
A tinkling of bells alerts us that Joanne has arrived with the wine. She pours a large glass for me and the same for Jenny.
“How many ponies do you have at your stable?” Jenny asks, taking a sip from her glass.
“Normally two, but I had to let one go, which is why there’s an opening for you. Apart from that, I sometimes have other ponies at the stable that I look after and train for other people. It’s like an extended family.”
“Can I ask why you let the other pony go?”
“She had promise, but, when it came to the big events, she wasn’t up to scratch. I train champions, there’s no room for second best. I passed her on to another owner, based in the Far East.”
“Passed her on? You mean you gave her away?”
“Yes. Tomorrow, before we go to the airport, you will sign a contract. It is similar to what you would have if you were a model or a singer and I was your manager. It lasts for a year, with options to renew on either side. It is all legally enforceable, not some dumb master/slave contract off the Internet, but the provisions are much stronger than a typical management arrangement and it effectively means I own you, even if it doesn’t explicitly say that.
“If you fail me, I can transfer my rights to someone else, without your agreement. If you want to terminate it early, you would have to pay back my investment in your training, which means most girls decide to accept the transfer. You should really show the contract to a lawyer before you put your name to it, but they would only advise you not to touch it with a bargepole, and I can tell you that for free.”
Jenny’s eyes flash nervously. “Are you really telling me I shouldn’t sign the contract?”
“I’m telling you that it is a big and virtually irrevocable commitment, which you should not make unless you are absolutely certain it is what you want. I have high standards, you will have to work hard and there are serious consequences for failing.”
“Will I have to behave as a Ponygirl all the time?”
“No, you’ll have downtime, otherwise I think you’d go mad. You’ll spend that time in the villa, not in harness, able to talk to anyone, have normal meals. It’s a bit like being in a harem, waiting for the sultan to call you to his chamber.”
The food arrives and we carry on talking while eating, moving on from the Ponygirl lifestyle as I explore what else Jenny is interested in. Then the plates are gone and she doesn’t want dessert, but I order a chocolate pudding for her anyway. I ask Toby and Joanne to stay at the table and tell my apprentice pony to stand up and move to the side of the table.
“Take your panties off and give them to me,” I order, loudly enough for nearby tables to hear. The room goes quiet and other diners turn to watch. Not because they are shocked or concerned about what is happening, but because this is why they come to The Stable and they know turning their attention on Jenny will increase her humiliation and embarrassment.
“Now, hitch up your dress to your waist and lie across my lap, with your hands behind your back.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a plastic cable tie, which I use to fasten her wrists together. I can see that her buttocks and thighs are pale and smooth, the skin pulled even tighter by her position on my lap. I stroke her with one hand, reaching under her with the other to caress her breast through her dress.
“Joanne,” I say, “will you pull up a chair and feed Jenny her dessert with your hands?”
“I would be glad to, Sir,” Joanne replies, sitting in front of Jenny’s face and scooping a large dollop of soft chocolate onto her palm.
“Thank you. Make sure she licks your fingers clean diligently.”
“Certainly, Sir.”
Now I begin to spank Jenny’s bottom, not because she’s done anything wrong, but just to thoroughly assert my mastery over her. That I am willing to subject her to this in public will be sending a powerful message, I am sure. As her buttocks turn a darker shade of pink, I see that Toby’s cock sheath as become considerably tighter and under strain.
“Toby, I think it is time you released that considerable manhood, which you have been concealing from us. I can tell this young slut is now well and truly ready to appreciate it.”
The stud needs no further encouragement; I watch as what I guess is eight or nine inches of his prick slides in easily between Jenny’s labia. A couple of diners are equally fascinated and begin filming in closeup on their phones. Meanwhile, Joanne has taken her own initiative and is giving Jenny’s tongue a good workout, pulling her where she is needed by her hair. Both women are sighing and moaning with pleasure, although Jenny’s cries are a little muffled by the location of her mouth between Joanne’s thighs.
When I sense this scenario has run its course, I tell Toby and Joanne to stop and pull Jenny up so she is sitting on my lap, her back to me and her legs splayed either side of mine. I slide the zip on her dress down, so I can expose her boobs and play with her nipples.
“Joanne,” I command, “kneel here between my legs and give Jenny’s pussy the same kind of attention she was giving yours.”
Jenny begins to moan again. I unzip my fly and push my cock between her tied hands, then go back to rubbing, twisting and pulling on her nipples. I call Toby back, together with another of the waiters. They take it in turns to stuff Jenny’s mouth with their cocks, while she pumps mine with her bound hands and Joanne sucks and nibbles on her clit.
The waiters are professionals and fully in tune with my intentions. When they are ready to cum, they force themselves together into her mouth, stretching her lips wide as she is overwhelmed by the sheer volume of liquid pumping into her throat. Gamely as she tries to swallow it all, it overflows and dribbles down her chin, onto her breasts and the top of her dress.
Ten minutes later we are leaving the restaurant. I’m holding Jenny’s arm to guide and support her. She seems to be finding it hard to walk in a straight line and is only dimly aware of what is going on. There are semen stains on her dress and her legs are streaked with dried sweat and her own cum. She’s a mess, but the few people we pass merely look and walk by.
Once we’re back in the apartment, I take Jenny to the kitchen and push her over the table, spreading her legs apart with my foot. She makes a sound I interpret as a protest, but I rip the dress off her and slap her arse several times. “I’m sure you don’t want this,” I explain, “but I need to finish what you started.” I fuck her from behind, something I’ve been wanting to do since I met her. There’s no finesse about it, but rough sex is really what I do best. Jenny makes enough noise for me to suppose she’s not totally unhappy about it.
Then it’s off down the corridor, pulling Jenny after me. A perfunctory knock and into Greta’s bedroom. She’s sitting up in bed, wearing a very nice, silky nightdress, looking at something on her iPad.
“I haven’t seen that before,” I say, fingering the tiny straps on her shoulders.
“It’s hers,” Greta replies. “The slut packed some nice stuff that she was going to wear for you. You should’ve let her keep it.”
“Well, I know you like your subs well used, and this one has been. Just don’t keep her up all night, she’s got a plane to catch in the morning.”
As I leave the room, Greta is tying Jenny’s wrists to the bed, ignoring her weak struggles and protests. “I wouldn’t make a fuss if I were you,” Greta laughs. “It looks like you had a fairly tame night for a Ponygirl in Master Philip’s household.”
Jennifer Harrison written by
Things move on very quickly. Everything of value is taken from me, including my passport. Not only am I soon naked, but I have to give my clothes to this young girl acting as Master Philip’s maid. Is she really a maid? She’s not at all surprised to see me like this, and I get the distinct impression that I’m not the first woman to be going through this process.
I have to kneel before her and effectively give over all my other possessions to her as well. I know that this is intended to humiliate me and to firmly establish in my mind that, from now on, I must obey Master Philip and submit myself to any degradation he commands. I have to say it is working. My decisive, proactive persona melts away as my clothes and belongings are stripped from me, replaced by passive, deeply submissive feelings, a sense that I am devoid of all agency. I’m mentally ready to become that most subservient of creatures, a true Ponygirl.
Master Philip seems happy that I’m no longer with Steve. I suppose that could be because he felt Steve was holding me back, but I get the feeling it is more about the fact that I’ve severed that connection to my ‘previous’ life. He also asks me about my job, and is clearly pleased that I have no ongoing commitments in that context either.
We go to a very strange restaurant, with the waiters and waitresses dressed in leather body harnesses which, to my embarrassment, I find highly stimulating, and I blush furiously.
Master Philip tells me about his Ponygirl stable, emphasising to me that me becoming one of his long-term ponies is still not a done deal. He makes it abundantly clear that it will take a lot of effort and commitment on my part if I am not to be cast aside like his previous pony. These cautionary tales just make me grit my teeth and be more determined to impress him.
A year’s contract? I’d wondered what sort of timescale we were talking about for this relationship, and now I know. I’m a little shocked, given that only a few days ago, my life seemed entirely normal, set on its course towards, possibly, marriage and ‘settling down’, whatever that means. Now, I’m on a completely different trajectory, towards something I don’t fully understand, but which I very much want to explore to its limits. It’s certainly rather daunting! Still, I’ve made my decision.
The rest of the evening seems to be an exercise in my public humiliation. Right here at the table in front of all the other diners, I’m spanked, fucked, forced to lick pussy and suck dick. On one level, it feels totally outrageous to be treated like this but, on another, it seems perfectly natural. I can’t help thinking this is how a submissive slut like me should be treated. I should be used and abused in whatever way Master Philip decides, because I now belong to him. He is my owner, whether or not the contract has been signed!
Back at his apartment, he gives me over to Greta for the rest of the night, and my belief that I am just his possession to be utilised however he pleases is reinforced. The young girl, clearly comfortable with this kind of situation, ties me spread-eagled on the bed.
“I really like this,”she says, indicating the nightie of mine she is wearing, “I think I’ll get Sir to see if he can get hold of the rest of your stuff. After all, you won’t be needing it, not where you’re going.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, a little alarmed.
“You’ve agreed to become one of Sir’s Ponygirls, haven’t you?” she asks, and when I nod my head, continues. “They never come back. You’ll either stay as his Ponygirl, for as long as you meet his very exacting standards, he doesn’t get bored of you and, of course, you don’t go lame, get fat, or grow old. Or you’ll be passed on to some other, less discerning, less wealthy owner, to fulfil their need for a willing sex slave.” She’s painting a pretty bleak picture!
“I may see out my year’s contract and call it a day,” I counter defensively.
“Never happened yet,” she replies thoughtfully, “like I said, no one’s ever come back. I think, once you’ve reached this stage, going back to ‘normal’ life isn’t an option you’ll contemplate.”
I look at her and realise that she’s right. It suddenly brings it home to me that this is a life-changing decision. Am I sure that I want to be a Ponygirl for the rest of my life? Jesus, that’s big! I’m not sure I’m ready to make any kind of decision about the rest of my life!
“Anyway, enough of this small talk,” Greta smiles, “we have things to do, and not much time. The thing is, Jenny - you don’t mind me calling you Jenny, do you? It may be the last time anyone ever does - the thing is, I’m a sadist, and it’s so difficult these days to find a true masochist who will allow me to indulge every aspect of my passion. Luckily, Sir understands, and provides me with suitable partners whenever he can. Are you a masochist, Jenny?”
“No!” I squeal in fear.
“I’m so glad,” she responds with obvious glee, “it’s so much more enjoyable when the recipient of my attentions isn’t willing!”
“Please, Greta,” I beg, scared out of my wits, “Miss, Mistress! Please, don’t hurt me!”
“Now, now,” she says, strapping a ballgag into my mouth, “this will be good practice in accepting stuff you don’t like but can’t prevent. You’ll get a lot of that as a Ponygirl. Besides, I can’t go all out on you as Sir won’t allow me to leave any permanent marks. So I’ll just be tickling you, really.”
It doesn’t feel like a tickling to me! Instead, she’s tormenting me with a wide variety of torture implements. She uses a riding crop to beat my buttocks until they are bright red and sore as hell, saying “get used to this feeling, it’s Sir’s preferred training aid”. This is followed by suspending me from the ceiling and applying a flogger across my breasts and stomach, then a whip on my back.
She straps me into an armbinder and, with it pulled up behind me forcing me to double over, uses clamps to further torment me, hanging them from my nipples, labia and tongue, while fucking me with an enormous strap-on. Then it’s more beating, this time with a bamboo cane, targeted on the backs of my thighs and my hanging breasts.
At last, after what seems like hours of unrelenting torture, Greta removes all the clamps, causing me to scream with pain as each one is released. I’m let out of the armbinder too and she drags me roughly to the bed by my hair. Are we going to sleep now? I’m hurting and exhausted, but she lies back on the pillows and pulls my head between her legs.
“You’re such a delicious slut, Jenny, tormenting you has made me horny as hell. So you’d better get busy with your tongue. If you give me enough orgasms, I might get tired enough to let you sleep.”
Her pussy is soaking already. It smells of female cum and sweat and tastes disgusting, but I have no choice. I lick and finger her until I find her clit and then she cums loudly, pressing my head into her crotch. But it’s not enough, she demands multiple orgasms, each one longer and more intense than the one before, until eventually she declares herself satisfied.
“You can sleep on the floor,” she says dreamily, throwing one of the pillows off the bed and pushing me after it. “Have a good sleep, you’ve earned it.”
I lie on the hard floorboards, getting what comfort I can from the pillow. Against all the odds, I eventually doze off.
The next thing I know it is morning and Greta, already in her maid’s uniform, is shaking me awake. I’m exhausted, stiff, aching, and still in pain from the beatings I received. To my surprise, my tormentor seems concerned about me and suggests I take a warm shower and, afterwards applies a soothing balm to the more obvious welts left from her night’s activities.
“Can I get dressed now?” I ask, when it looks like she’s finished.
“You don’t own any clothes, remember,” Greta replies. “You’ll have to go and see what Sir wants you to wear.” She ushers me out of her bedroom and leads me to the kitchen, where she dumps me onto a chair at the table. The dress I was wearing last night is over the back of another chair and I can see it is filthy and torn, where Master Philip ripped it off me. The memory is too much and I burst into tears.
“You’d better drink this,” Greta says, putting a mug of coffee in front of me. I pick it up gratefully, enjoying the warmth on my hands. It is black and sweet, not how I would have it normally, but now it’s just what I need. Greta returns with a plate of scrambled egg on toast.
“You should eat something,” she advises. “You don’t want to be weak when he comes with the contract.” I don’t really feel hungry, but she’s right, I need strength, so I force my breakfast down"
“I guess you don’t have anything to go back to,” Greta continues. I look at her blankly. “If you don’t go with Sir, going back to the boyfriend would be too humiliating. So what would you do? Start a completely new life somewhere else?”
She’s right, of course, and she says it just before Master Philip strides into the room. He’s dressed in a white shirt with black trousers and looks totally confident, relaxed and in control. Everything that, at the moment, I’m not.
“Good morning, Jenny,” he says. “I hope Greta didn’t keep you up too late. Have you had breakfast?”
I’m sitting in front of him, naked, whip-marked and sore, but it’s like that’s normal for him, he doesn’t notice. I swallow hard and say “Yes, thank you, Master Philip. Greta’s been looking after me.”
“That’s good. Now, here’s the contract I told you about last night.” He hands me a number of sheets of paper, stapled together. “You need to read this carefully, Jenny. Once you sign it, you become my Ponygirl and there’s no going back.”
I start to read through all the pages, realising that what he said about this being strict is entirely true. It is also extremely one-sided. There are severe financial penalties described if I want to get out of the contract early, none at all for him. My only legitimate reason for terminating the contract is if I suffer permanent injury due to negligence. He can end it if he deems my behaviour, or even my attitude, to be ‘inappropriate’, with no definition of that term. Without quite saying explicitly that I will be his slave, it specifies that I must obey anything he tells me to do, regardless of the circumstances or consequences.
It’s a formality, though. He made me his when he took me out in the sulky on Sunday, when he set me up to dump Steve and last night, when he exposed me as a wanton, submissive slut in a restaurant full of strangers. With a shaking hand, I take the pen he offers me, and sign the various places marked. I hand back the document and pen.
“It’s done, Master,” I say, instinctively dropping the ‘Philip’,“I’m yours.”
Philip Campion written by
She’s done it! She’s let me take away her access to money, her passport, her independence and now she’s signed a contract that she has every reason to believe ties her to me legally for at least a year and probably longer. Well, she’s an intelligent woman and no one can accuse me of concealing the consequences of her decision from her. If this is what she wants, so be it.
The doorbell rings and Greta goes to let Alice in. She breezes in, coming straight to me and kissing me on the cheek. “Good morning, Master. Is everything going to plan?”
“It certainly is, Alice,” I reply. “Jenny’s completed the paperwork. We just need to get her ready for the journey.”
“That’s wonderful, Master, I’m so pleased. On the way over, I picked up the collar you ordered. They’ve done a lovely job etching the script into the metal.” She pulls a stainless steel collar out of her bag and adds, “I think it’s a lovely name you’ve chosen for her. It goes so well with her colouring.”
While Alice uses a hex key to open the collar, I take Jenny’s arm and draw her to her feet. “Kneel” I command sternly. When she is down, I push my foot between her knees. “Farther apart, farther, yes, that’s better. Now, Back straight, head down, hands on your thighs, palms up. Good. Remember that position, whenever I tell you to kneel, that’s how I want you.”
Alice gives me the open collar. Etched across the front in flowing script are the words ‘Opal Fire, property of Master Philip Campion.’ I put the collar on Jenny’s neck and wait for Alice to replace and tighten the grub screw that holds the collar closed.
“Your name now is Opal Fire. Most of the time we will call you Opal, your full name is only for formal events. Forget Jennifer Harrison, while you wear my collar, she no longer exists.”
Alice runs her fingers through Jenny’s hair. “What do you think, Master? Should we should let this grow out? I could just trim the tips every so often to keep it in shape. It’ll be the only hair she’s allowed, so we should make the most of it.”
“Yes, why not,” I say. “Whatever you think. You’d better get her ready, we’ll need to go down to the car in twenty minutes.”
It’s a short ride to the private Jet Centre at London City Airport. They already have copies of our passports for the flight manifest, so we go straight through to our departure gate. Jane, the flight manager, is waiting for us and the only delay is for Alice to take off Jenny’s dress, revealing the rubber crop top and hot pants underneath. Her high heeled ankle boots are exchanged for hoof boots and hoof mitts are strapped on her hands.
We go outside, where the aircraft is standing close by. Nearby is a wooden crate, which has an open side panel. Alice leads Jenny to the crate and pushes her inside, having first strapped a leather blindfold over her eyes. The groom locks the frightened Ponygirl’s wrists into metal shackles fixed to the roof of the crate, leaving her kneeling on a bed of straw. She positions two metal tubes close to Jenny’s mouth and pulls her head forward so she knows where they are.
“The tube on the left is water,” Alice tells her, “and the one on the right is a vegetable smoothie, in case you feel hungry.”
The baggage handlers latch the side panel back in place and the crate is loaded onto a trailer, along with the rest of our luggage. Once everything is securely in place, we walk to the aircraft.
The chartered Learjet is very comfortable for us, but I guess not so much for Jenny, kneeling in her crate in the pressurised baggage compartment. She can’t even be sure she’s in the same plane as us, though, she might get a clue when Alice starts up the bullet vibe that is concealed inside the rubber hot pants. It’s controlled via the plane’s wifi from an app on Alice’s phone. There’s a webcam in the crate and we have a bit of fun repeatedly bringing our helpless pony to the point of orgasm and abruptly leaving her flat.
Jane brings us drinks and snacks and then sits with us, watching Opal on the screen, hearing her moan and scream with building pleasure and then cry bitterly with frustration. Jane’s flown with us before, so what we get up to is no surprise. “Can’t we have a bit of fun with her in here?” she asks suddenly. “I bet a ‘Ponygirl Joins the Mile-High Club’ would do really well as a video. Nick’s on co-pilot duty, I’m sure he would help out, if you need another cock.”
Alice and I look at one another, wondering why we hadn’t thought of that ourselves. We’ve got all the bondage gear we’d need, it’s in the baggage hold with Jenny’s crate. The seats are adjustable for height and fold down completely flat, so we can strap her to the one in the middle of the cabin, with her hooves on the floor and then we’ll have a Ponygirl we can ride in every sense of the word.
Ten minutes later we have everything set up and Alice is leading Jenny into the cabin, with a leash clipped to her collar. She is still blindfold, but no longer has the hot pants and is clearly distressed. “Is that you, Master?” she asks. “Alice? What do you want? What are you going to do to me?”
Alice pushes a metal bit into Jenny’s mouth, stopping the stream of questions. It’s a particularly nasty one, with prongs at the edge that force her jaws apart, leaving plenty of space for a cock to enter. Alice forces her down onto the flat bench created by folding down the seat and straps her to it, slipping a dildo through a ring in the strap. She clips reins to the bit and hands them to Jane, who hitches up her skirt and straddles Opal’s bare back, pulling her panties to one side and settling herself on the dildo.
“Giddy up there!” Jane cries, pulling her mount’s head up with the reins and slapping her rump with a vicious springy whip. Alice records the scene on a small video camera. “Let’s hear some pony noises, Opal” she demands, “and show us how well you can trot.”
Jenny does her best to comply. With her hoof boots and mitts only just in contact with the cabin floor, she manages to pump her legs up and down, while doing a passable trotting motion with her arms. Her whinnies are getting better with practice, though they’re not helped by Jane bouncing up and down on the middle of her back, which from time to time knocks the wind out of her.
A few minutes later, Nick arrives from the cockpit. The co-pilot quickly takes stock of the situation, kneels in front of the trotting pony and shoves his erection over the bit and into her mouth.
“Mmmm”, he says, twining her hair round his fingers as he thrusts towards her throat, “a meat-eating pony, and a redhead too. Perfect!”
I take the whip from Jane and give Jenny some harder, better aimed swats across her butt. She really doesn’t need any more beatings, she’s still lividly marked from what she endured the previous day, but it’ll serve as a reminder of exactly what she’s signed up for. Then I move on to the backs of her thighs, before aiming the whip upwards, cruelly catching her labia with its tip.
Having warmed her up with the whip, I insert two fingers into her vagina and thrust them rapidly in and out. Her clitoris is enlarged and falls easily to my fingers. I rub it first, then roll it between my finger and thumb, before pinching it hard, digging in with my nails. Her screams are muffled by Nick stuffing her mouth, as I go back to slapping her cunt with the whip.
By the time the pilot calls Nick back to start the descent into Pisa, Jenny has a mouthful of cum and a sore, whipped pussy to go with her beaten rump. Alice takes her back to the baggage compartment and we clear everything away, before settling down in our seats.
On the tarmac, our luggage and the crate are loaded into a small panel van, which sets off with the approval of a bored and moderately bribed customs official. In front of us now, my car is being delivered by the garage that stores it while I’m out of the country. It’s a Ferrari 550 Barchetta Pininfarina and I’m looking forward to blowing some wind through Alice’s hair on the drive north.
On the road we roar past the van and wonder how its human/pony cargo is getting on.
An hour later, we arrive at the villa, beautifully set at the entrance to a lush valley, with a backdrop of forest-covered hills. It’s a great place to work with Ponygirls as there are miles of secluded tracks we can use, with little risk of being observed. Half an hour after we arrive, giving us time to shower, change clothes and enjoy a glass of wine, the much slower van arrives. The driver helps us unload the crate and Alice extricates a hot, sweaty and exhausted pony.
I take the leash from Alice and drag Jenny across the yard and into one of the stalls. A brown-haired Ponygirl is lying quietly on the straw, but she looks up as I enter and jumps up eagerly. Her real name is Nuala, but we call her Emerald Star.
“Opal,” I say, leading her towards the other girl, “this is Emerald Star. She’s my champion. You’ll have to match up to her if you’re going to make it here. Emerald, this is Opal Fire. I want you two to get along and work together as a team.
“In fact,” I continue, turning to Alice, “bring them both into the house now and give them a room together for this evening. Opal can shower and get cleaned up properly, you find them nice dresses and we can all have a civilised dinner and get to know one another. Then, tomorrow, we’ll all be fresh and ready to start training Opal as a Ponygirl champion.”
Opal Fire written by
Alice is here! I’m so glad, it’s good to see a friendly face, and she is coming with us, which is even better. I feel safe with her, she seemed very friendly and empathetic the previous weekend. And, of course, there was that Saturday night…!
She dresses me in, basically, a latex bikini, but then with a plain summer dress on top so that I’ll look quite respectable out in public as we go to the airport.
Oh, well, respectability didn’t last long! We made it to the airport and through the terminal, but we’re still in the building and my dress has gone and I’m now wearing hoof boots and mitts. Alice also fits me with a halter bridle and leads me out onto the tarmac.
This is a bit odd, there’s a crate… Alice blindfolds me, leads me forward, pushes me down onto my hand-hooves and knees… I’m in the box! My arms are pulled up over my head and locked in place. What is going on? Alice tells me about the water and feeding tubes in front of me, then I sense the space around me closing up… I’m imprisoned!
Oh my! The crate is moved, hoisted up, driven around, more moving. It finally comes to a halt, and I can hear nothing around me, all I can do is wait. This is all very unsettling. I guess I just have to get used to things just happening to me without me understanding. It’s all part of becoming a totally submissive creature. Somehow, despite the fear I’m experiencing due to the bizarre situation I’m in, I’m aroused, quite intensely aroused, by all this!
Some time later, who knows how long, we’re moving again. I think I must be in the plane and it’s taking off! Oh, that’s scary! Flying is stressful at the best of times, but when you’re blindfolded and restrained in a kneeling position, in a wooden crate for Christ’s sake, it’s positively terrifying!
This is getting a bit boring now, nothing to see, no way to move around. I use the tubes in front of me, more for something to do than because I’m hungry or thirsty…
Oh! There’s a vibrator in my knickers! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh God, that’s driving me wild! I’m going to cum, I can’t stop it!
Nooooooo!! Turn it back on, I need to finish! Someone, somewhere, is playing a really cruel trick on me, bringing me right to the brink of orgasm, then leaving me there. Over and over again! Oh God, I can’t stand it! Please, either let me cum, or leave me alone! No, not again…!
What’s happening now? We’re still flying, but the box is being opened… My hooves freed… Being led out… Is that you, Alice? I feel so disoriented, so vulnerable, so used…
I’m bent over something soft, then strapped down, now a gag forcing my mouth wide open. What are they going to do to me now?
Oof! Someone’s sitting on my back! Oh, ow, they’re hitting me! They’re ordering me to run like a pony, whinny like a pony, while they thrash me. So humiliating, so painful!
My mouth suddenly filled with cock, choking me… Please, let me breathe!
Fuck! Now I’m being whipped on my pussy! How could anybody be that vicious?! I hope it’s not Master or Alice… I hope they wouldn’t be that cruel…
Aiyeeeeeeek!! They’re torturing my clitoris now! Stop, stop, please stop!!
Thank God, it’s over. I’m being put back in the crate and we are coming in to land. Who’d have thought that being locked up alone in a crate in an aircraft hold would be safer than being with other people?
More moving around, more jiggling, more travelling. I reckon my wooden prison has now been unloaded from the aircraft and put on a truck. I wonder where we are? What country? I’m guessing we must still be in Europe but, apart from that, I’ve got no clue.
At last, we’ve stopped and I’m let out. It feels nice and warm here, with a very pleasant breeze, rather than being shut up in that hot, stuffy crate. Now my blindfold is removed and I can see the scenery for the first time. Rolling hills, verdant green, possibly vineyards in the distance, I guess France or Italy.
Master leads me into the stable and I see my new home for the first time. There’s another Ponygirl here! She’s my stablemate, and Master introduces her as Emerald Star. I love her long brown ponytail! I hope I can grow one like that eventually. She's taller than me, looks super-fit and just wonderful in her full body harness and bridle. She’s also got a deep overall tan, I look pasty white alongside her!
Alice removes all our tack and then takes us into the house.
“You two take a shower. I’ll leave out your clothes in the next room.” Emerald steps into the shower cubicle and I stand there to wait for her to finish, but she takes my hand and pulls me in with her, then starts to soap me and herself together. Quite enjoying her touch and deciding that being embarrassed would just be stupid, I reciprocate with the rubbing down, and start up a conversation.
"Hi, I'm Jenny," I begin, "what's your name?"
"No, you're not," she replies in a rather contemptuous tone, "Master called you Opal Fire, so that's your name. Don't ever use your own name here, or you'll get a beating."
Great start! I was hoping we would be friends, but now I'm not so sure, she seems quite superior. Let's have another go.
“So, where are you from, Emerald?”
“I’m from here,” she says with a smile, “I live here now, and my life before is no longer of any interest to me.” Okay, that sounds a bit cultish, but let’s go with it. She has a soft, Scottish brogue, so maybe that's where she's from.
“How long have you been here?”
“What’s the date?” I have to think about that for a second.
“The 23rd,” I reply. She gives me a look as if to say ‘and?’ “Of July… 2017.” She thinks about that for a minute.
“I’ve been here sixteen months.”
“Sixteen months?!” I exclaim. “Wait, that means you signed a new contract?”
“Oh, Opal,” she says as if talking to somebody with learning difficulties, “stop thinking about contracts, they’re not important. We are Master’s ponies, his until he decides otherwise. Our purpose is to please him in every way we can. There's an opportunity for us to please him together, and become his perfect pony pair. So you'd better shape up pretty quickly, Opal!”
I find her a bit intimidating, probably because she's the experienced one here and I'm the new pupil who knows nothing at all. But she's not unfriendly. Eventually, we get out and dry each other, then go into the bedroom to get dressed.
Clothing is minimal, to say the least. There is a red, latex dress which is like a sheath, hugging my body from armpits to the tops of my thighs. There’s no underwear, but then I don’t really expect that, plus, if I wore anything under this dress, it would spoil the lines. I can clearly see my nipples, navel and bottom crack outlined by the shiny rubber material, and my pussy is only not on view because the hem stretches so tightly across the front of my legs. There is also a pair of strappy sandals with 2 inch platforms and 5 inch stiletto heels.
Emerald is wearing the same, except that her dress is green. That makes sense - Opal in red, Emerald in green. I love the way her loose hair stretches down almost to the small of her back. We do each other’s make-up, then look at each other.
“You look amazing Emerald,” I say, gushing with admiration.
“Thanks, Opal, you look pretty good too,” she replies. We go downstairs to the dining room, where Emerald immediately falls to her knees.
“Kneel down, Opal,” she hisses at me from the corner of her mouth, “show due respect to Master and Miss Alice. In fact, anyone you see here. They’re all above us in the social order, even the servants. We must obey any instruction we’re given by anyone, unless it conflicts with an order from Master.”
I quickly fall to my knees beside my new friend, and adopt her position of bowed head, legs apart and hands upturned on thighs. Together, we wait for Master to appear.