B and D Academy

by guardian46w, 2018-09-15 22:12:37

by Snidely

Illustrated by Tarsus

Originally Published in Bondage Life No. 31, February 1988

Transcribed and Scanned by guardian46w, Monday, July 23, 2018

Story Codes: F/ff, bdsm, bondage, rope, chains, cuffs, shackles, gags, rivals, spies, n/con, captive, enslave, X

The Adventure Begins!

just what the heck is going on here?

The breakfast ordeal was over… finally. Mariko sat at the table trying to ‘will’ the corn flake off the end of her nose and wondered just how she gets herself into these things. She felt doubly responsible this time because she had gotten not only herself, but her roommate, Courtney Richmond, into this predicament. Mariko looked across the beautifully appointed breakfast table at her friend who was sitting strapped to a high-back leather covered chair identical to Mariko’s with a dejected look on her face and oatmeal in her hair. At 22, the blonde girl was two years younger than Mariko and about two inches taller at five feet six inches. She was the type of girl who seemed to turn men’s heads everywhere she went, but she was never one to notice. They had struck up an immediate friendship and decided to share an apartment soon after they first met at the job that was to get them into this mess.

Sitting at the head of the table was the orchestrator of their predicament, Allison Palmer, owner, president, chief of staff and head bitch of B&D (Beauty and Definition) Cosmetics. She was tall, strong, attractive, in a hard sort of way, redhead with a short flip hair style. She sat with one leg slung over her chair arm, sipping coffee and smirking at the two helpless girls. She had a devious twinkle in her eye, a twinkle Mariko had come to know all too well over the last two weeks, or was it three? Allison finished her coffee with one final gulp and then rang the little bell that was next to her place setting. The double doors of the huge dining room opened up and as they had in the past, in marched six oriental women, with three coming around behind Mariko and the others taking a similar position behind Courtney.

Mariko couldn’t decide just what nationality the women were, although she had ruled out the possibility that they could be Japanese like herself. They were all squat, rugged farm type girls, probably from the mainland. They just did not fit in these lavish surroundings. Not the Jet-set type at all, like Allison and her friends. Or the sympathetic type either.

Both girls were becoming painfully used to this routine. They knew that now was not the time to talk, even though it was one of the few times during the day that they were physically able to, but Courtney seemed determined to press her luck.

“And what’s for desert?” she asked Allison with her best sarcastic smile that didn’t begin to hide the contempt she obviously felt for Allison. She barely got the statement out before one of the guards grabbed a handful of Courtney’s blonde hair and yanked her head back, though not too hard; it was her warning for the day. (And it was only six a.m.).

“I was only asking!” Courtney blurted defensively, as the guard twisted her hair a bit more. Allison smiled sweetly and said, “Why, I’m having some melon for desert and it certainly will be delicious. But I think, for you two, some red rubber ball will do quite nicely.”

With that, she nodded to the guards, who pounced on both girls, and almost effortlessly stuffed ball gags into their mouths. Mariko couldn’t help but notice that Courtney’s gag was pulled about twice as tight as her own, not that she had any prayer of extracting the one in her mouth, but any small favor was welcome under the circumstances. Sooner or later Courtney would figure that out and keep her mouth shut.

Allison sat back in her chair and began, “Y’know girls, I’ve been thinking… (Oh great. Here we go again, Mariko thought) …you two have been with me all this time and we haven’t even had a chance to tour my stables. I’m really quite proud of them, so I thought that it would be fun for you.” She looked quizzically at her guests, who could do little more than stare back at her.

“If you don’t want to go, just say so.” She blurted out before slapping her knee and laughing merrily at her own joke. Courtney and Mariko didn’t appreciate the humor. “There then, it’s settled, the girls here will get you cleaned up and help you get into some riding clothes, and I’ll meet you in the stables at nine.”

She then nodded again to the guards, who efficiently unbuckled all the leather straps holding our heroines in their chairs, then pushed their heads down on the table and pulled their hands up behind their backs to be fastened there with plastic tie-wraps. The chair was pulled away suddenly and Mariko was hustled up towards the door with one guard on each elbow and the corn flake still plastered stubbornly on the end of her nose. Courtney brought up the rear.

Allison’s cheerful, “Ta, ta,” rang in their ears as they stumbled down the halls to their rooms.

Both Mariko and Courtney had started work on the same day at B&D Cosmetics, although certainly with different motivations. Courtney joined the firm as a student intern in the marketing group. Her plan was to slug her way to the top of the business world and be in the six-figure salary range by the time she was twenty-five. Mariko was starting as a marketing liaison to the new Far East division. It was her charm and wit, along with a heck of a snow job that had convinced them in the interview that she had grown up in Japan. It didn’t really matter that coming to New York was the first time she had left Southern California in her life. Her full blooded Japanese roots, the smooth lines of her face, the gentle slant to her brown eyes and her waist length, jet black hair had done the major portion of the selling.

This was actually her second job, but she didn’t tell them that. Her first had been with a rival cosmetics company based in California. Ivan Rasovitz, the president of Rasovitz Industries, had recognized her unique potential immediately and taken her under his wing as his personal assistant. During one late-night staff strategy meeting he revealed his suspicion that B&D had been stealing his formulas for several years. He hinted that what he needed was a contact on the inside at B&D who could let him know what was going on, maybe even send him back some of the stolen formulas so he could track down the spy in his company.

Mariko sat patiently in the “Dressing Chair” while a fashionably dressed woman applied her makeup, B&D brand, of course. The dressing chair was an interesting affair made up entirely of adjustable stainless-steel tubes, giving it an ultramodern appearance. Its long legs were securely anchored in the concrete floor of the dressing room, making it the only permanent highlight in an otherwise drab room. The chair was really little more than a stool with arm rests. There was only a tiny, uncomfortable seat made up of tubing that converged together to form a small square, with no back rest at all for a tired girl to lean against; nor could she put her feet flat on the floor due to the telescoping legs that had been adjusted before the guards had even placed her in the chair.

As it was she could barely strain enough to rub the end of her big toes on the floor. The arms and legs were constructed so that they could be twisted and turned this way and that at the operator’s convenience, and with the simple tightening of strategic wing bolts, they could be locked in place, holding the unfortunate “dressee” rigidly in any possible pose.

The steel cuffs that held her in the chair only attached to her limbs at the wrists and ankles and could be detached and reattached easily from the chair without ever unlocking them from her wrists and ankles. The unhooking of the cuffs could be accomplished easily by any operator who was standing beside the chair, but Mariko could not reach any of the catches from her position seated in the chair.

For obvious security reasons, there was no point during the entire dressing procedure when more than one of her limbs was ever released from the chair. In this way she could be completely outfitted in anything from a cocktail dress to a leather cat suit with little or no effort on the part of her hand maidens, regardless of the amount of energy Mariko chose to expend resisting them.

The chair also had many interesting attachments, like the one she was enduring at that moment. While she was being made up, a sturdy head rest arrangement was bolted to the back of the chair, making her lean forward and pushing her head forward slightly from the back of her neck. A large tray with adjustable lights and all sorts of cosmetics was snapped in place under her chin, forcing her head up and back painfully against the neck brace, ultimately holding her head perfectly still while the woman plied her trade.

Mariko knew well enough not to complain when on the first day her mouth was packed with cosmetic cotton puffs putting an unpleasant end to any protests the fashion dummy had to raise. Mariko always prided herself on never making the same mistake twice. So, she sat calmly, nude, obediently making faces as the makeup woman ordered. Another taller woman stood behind Mariko and carefully braided her hair into a long ponytail tied at the bottom with a red ribbon. Soon, the two women finished their work and stood in front of her, commenting about what beautifully high cheekbones Japanese women have.

Mariko didn’t know whether to thank them or kick them (if she ever got the chance!), so instead she just waited. She was getting pretty used to waiting. Finally, after they were done with their discussion on her chances of making it in the modeling industry, they removed the tray and Mariko breathed a sigh of relief as she was finally able to straighten up.

Mariko had never hesitated, she would have done anything, well, almost anything, to help this charismatic man who had gotten her started in the business world. Anyway, it had seemed a pretty good way to make two paychecks while really working only one job. Besides, all the cloak and dagger stuff were kind of thrilling; in fact, she had even made a point of wearing a cape to work her first day at B&D, as sort of a private joke. It turned out to be even easier than she had ever imagined to get information on the B&D formulas, as she had access to all B&D’s computers from the terminal she shared with Courtney. All those computer courses in college had really paid off. She had worked there only a month when she got her first look at the new formulas that B&D was working on. After six months, she was merrily funneling all the new formulas back west. Coincidentally, Mariko had just dropped a package in the mail and returned to the apartment that she and Courtney shared when this all began.

She had noticed right off that there was some mail and groceries lying in the middle of the living room.

“That girl’s such a slob sometimes,” she had thought as she picked up the mess. She then had gone into her bedroom to change out of her work clothes. Mariko had opened her closet door and screamed as she looked directly into the gagged face of Courtney Richmond. Her scream was short lived though, as a large hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

The makeup woman was busy arranging some clothes on a table behind Mariko. All she could make out over her shoulder, while one of the women was showing the outfit to the other, was a brown tweed blazer. She could hear the makeup woman commenting about how clever the design was and how it should hold “This little one” quite nicely, but she couldn’t twist around enough to see. Mariko didn’t like the looks (or rather, sound) of this, so she decided it was time to take a chance and speak up.

“Excuse me, I don’t want to interrupt your fun, but I think you should know that I really look terrible in tweed.” Mariko said. Both women stopped their chatting and turned to Mariko.

“Did you say something, Dear?” the makeup woman asked pleasantly.

“Why yes,” Mariko said, somewhat surprised to finally get some recognition around this place. “I said that I think I look awful in tweed jackets.”

The tall woman walked slowly around to face Mariko. She pleasantly brushed a stray hair missed by the braiding out of her face and then leaned forward until she was nose to nose with Mariko and hissed, “Who cares what YOU think, Doll.”

Mariko couldn’t miss the innuendo as she sat naked in front of these two women, about to be dressed just like a toy.

“Will we be needing any cotton today, Dear?” the makeup woman asked Mariko over her shoulder. She simply shook her head. She was defeated now. The dressing could begin.

First came a crisp, white cotton shirt that was quickly slipped over her unfastened hand, which was immediately reconnected to the chair arm. Then the unfastening process was repeated with the other arm, and Mariko had to shift her weight to accommodate the twisting of her arm behind her to get it into the other sleeve. They then buttoned the shirt up the front, all except the top two buttons.

Mariko was unpleasantly surprised by the condition of the shirt. Two oblong holes had been cut and hemmed neatly in the front of the shirt where there should have been pockets. Out of these strategically placed openings pointed her firm little breasts.

Whoever had laundered the shirt had obviously had a fetish for starch, because both the collar and cuffs were of a consistency reminiscent only of cardboard. The two women were busy carefully arranging the French cuffs of the shirt and tittered pleasantly as they used tiny padlocks for cuff links. (“A little bondage chic”). Next came a yellow wool V-neck sweater-vest and they, after quite a tussle, slipped it over Mariko’s head.

“It’s not really traditional, it’s just in case it’s a little chilly out there,” they explained. The sweater was a little bit scratchy where it rubbed Mariko’s bare nipples, but it was bearable. Next came the blazer, and Mariko calmly cooperated as they threaded her arms into the stiff jacket.

When her hands were re-secured to the chair, the tall woman opened her blazer up and began fishing around in the left armpit. Mariko, who was extremely ticklish, had to fight hard to keep from squirming. Finally, the woman produced a thin piece of wire with a clasp on the end. This, she fed into the left arm hole of the sweater, across Mariko’s chest, and then out the other arm hole. She then fiddled in the opposite armpit for a moment and yanked the wire.

Mariko then realized what was happening. Sewn into the shoulders of the blazer was a horizontal figure “eight” of leather with the cross of the “eight” in the center of her back. Her arms fit through the holes in the “eight” before going into the blazer’s sleeves. The wire was attached at the opening going into the blazer’s sleeves. The wire was attached at the top and bottom of the “eight” and once it was connected Mariko would not be able to remove the jacket without first undoing the wire.

Had Mariko been able to peek behind herself, she would have seen that there had been a triangular section about four inches wide removed from the jacket all about her shoulder blade level. This triangle was reinforced with leather around the edge of the opening and had a small metal clip hanging loosely out of it. The tall woman continued to work, diligently trying to connect the wire when, finally, there was a small “click” as the two ends of the wire connected.

The two women soon set their attentions on Mariko’s next piece of apparel, which turned out to be a set of black leather riding gloves. Not normal gloves probably, Mariko had no doubt that they would be unique. Once they were worked onto her hands she discovered that the skin-tight gloves had no thumbs, rather, the thumb was part of the side of the glove. Although she could wiggle her fingers freely, her thumbs, for all practical purposes, were gone! The two women used button hooks to close the tops of the gloves around her wrists.

They produced a pair of steel handcuffs and locked one on Mariko’s right wrist. Then they unlocked her left wrist from the chair and twisted it to meet the other hand where it was locked up in the loose cuff. They removed the chair’s bracelets from her hands and replaced them on the chair arms ready for the next dressing session.

Mariko now sat with her wrists securely handcuffed behind her back and her feet still locked to the chair. Then the tall woman stepped quickly behind her and pulled her hands up suddenly between her should blades and clipped them to the hook in the back of her jacket. Mariko found that any leverage she could have hoped to have was gone.

The makeup woman glanced at her watch and said to the other woman, “It’s almost 7:30. We had better finish her up. Hand me her tie, would you?” the other woman grunted and handed her a strip of bright red cloth and then took a firm grip on Mariko’s ponytail.

“We’re gonna make sure you're completely tied up, doll …get it? Tied up?” The makeup lady then buttoned up the top two buttons of the shirt and slipped the necktie under the collar and around Mariko’s neck. She then carefully knotted the tie, it took her three tries to get it right, and slid it up tight to Mariko’s neck and tucked the necktie neatly into her sweater. She fumbled around in her pockets for a moment and produced a little gold collar bar which she clipped to both sides of her collar under the necktie knot.

“What’s that for?” asked the tall woman.

“Allison likes them, she calls them tie locks. She had me put one on Sweetcakes when she took her riding a couple of weeks ago. Sweetcakes rode all day, then spent the night hogtied in bed and her tie wasn’t even crooked in the morning.”

Pardon me, but this doesn’t fit right, it’s awfully tight. Mariko gulped, or tried to, it wasn’t easy because of the collar. The makeup woman tucked a bright red, lace hanky into Mariko’s breast pocket and pinned a carnation to her blazer lapel.

“Your comfort is of no concern to us, my dear,” she said as she worked. “The only thing that is important is that you look presentable for your mistress.” Using a small safety pin, she pinned the key to Mariko’s handcuffs to her necktie, just below the knot but hopelessly out of reach of Mariko’s wandering fingers.

“There, finished,” said the makeup woman as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You look so cute!” She squealed to Mariko as she pinched her cheek and gave her tie one last primp. “Allison’s just gonna eat you up!”

“More likely it’ll be the other way ‘bout.” Added the tall woman as she turned towards the door with the other woman.

“Wait a minute, aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Mariko.

“Oh really. Can’t you be at all patient?” said the makeup woman with an exasperated tone. “There’ll be someone here presently who will be happy to gag you. Can’t you wait till then?”

“No, no,” Mariko stammered, “Pants, you forgot my pants.”

“Oh, you obviously haven’t seen them yet, have you?” said the tall woman with a smile as she shut the door.

Shortly, the door opened, and in marched the three guards. They walked around her and began to fumble with the riding britches. Mariko tried to turn to see them but she found that this was not a comfortable feat with the tight, starched collar and tie. First, one girl took hold of Mariko’s ponytail and pulled back on it, forcing her to lean back. The other two pulled short nylon stockings on her feet, then pushed her feet into the legs of the britches.

They had to remove the ankle cuffs one at a time to yank the pants up to Mariko’s knees. Even when the pants were at her knees Mariko knew that they were going to be very tight, but soon her mind was elsewhere. One of the girls came around where Mariko could see her new riding boots. They were made of very shiny black patent leather, with heels that were about five inches high and no thicker at the bottom than a pencil.

The girl was examining the heel more closely, and pointed out a curious metal threading, something like a screw extending about one inch up from the tip of the heel. The three girls, or four if you count Mariko, examined the heels for a moment, then shrugged it off and began to put the boots on poor Mariko. Every stitch she wore until then had fit her like a glove, but these boots were a different story, they were much too small, at least one size, maybe two.

Mariko tried to explain this fact to the guards, loudly! The guard holding her hair put a stop to that nonsense with a hand pressed firmly over her mouth. The other pulled tugged, crammed and finally forced her feet into the boots. They pulled the little straps up and around her calf and put small padlocks at the top so the boots couldn’t be removed without the key, which was added to the handcuff key pinned to her tie.

They stood Mariko up and re-applied themselves to pulling up the britches. When the pants were just below her crotch they stopped, and one of them went over to the table and returned with a small velvet box. When she opened it, Mariko tried her best to bolt for the door, and would have made it except for the high heels and the fact that a guard still had a firm grip on her hair.

As it was, she only succeeded in falling hard on her butt, then getting dragged painfully back to her feet. Mariko begged and pleaded with the girls, but they paid no attention to her. As the girl with the box removed two shiny steel ball bearings and came towards Mariko with a slight hint of a smile on her face, the other one bent down and grabbed her ankles and forced them as far apart as the britches would allow. The first girl quickly and efficiently inserted the Ben-Wa balls, and then pressed the crotch of the britches into place to ensure that the balls wouldn’t pop out.

The other two redoubled their efforts at pulling the pants into place. Mariko suddenly realized that the crotch of the pants had been lined with rubber, and this, combined with the built-in tightness of the pants, was forcing the balls even deeper inside her. They zipped up the britches, and Mariko could already feel the rubber doing its best to warm things up.

She barely noticed the “click” of the lock insuring that she would be wearing the riding britches for some time to come. A wire hobble of about eighteen inches was added to small rings on the inside of the ankles of her boots. The hobble was really unnecessary because there was no way Mariko could possibly run in these boots, in fact she was surprised she could even stand.

Last came the riding hat, a derby. Mariko had no delusions about this at all. They plucked the black velvet hat down on her head and a whole bunch of matching leather straps fell around her cheeks. The main strap, which one of the girls was trying to apply to her mouth, was connected to a steel bit type of arrangement, which popped easily into her startled mouth when she gasped as one of the girls attempted to rearrange her Ben-Wa balls from the outside.

The steel bit passed between her teeth and drew her lips back at the corners as the straps were tightened securely at the back of her neck under her ponytail. In the center of the bit was a hard rubber pad that extended forward under the bit, right up to the back of her lower teeth. Right behind the bit the rubber was softer, and curled upwards, squishing itself against the roof of her mouth.

As it worked out, the gag was inserted perfectly the first time, the lower pad crushed her tongue against the floor of her mouth, and the upper rubber had plenty of room to expand should she try to open her mouth any further. Mariko was limited in that regard because of the tightness of the bit where it pulled her cheeks back cruelly. Mariko heard the small click of the lock at the back of her neck and the key to her gag was added to the growing collection dangling from her necktie, and our little equestrienne was ready for her canter.

Mariko was shoved roughly out the door and into the hall. The guards were content to let her stumble along at her own awkward pace down the corridor. Suddenly a door to her right flew open and Mariko found herself face to face with Courtney. Her heart sank as she looked at her friend, who was done up in exactly the same fashion as Mariko, except that her color was blue; navy for the blazer, powder blue for the sweater, and her tie was blue plaid complete with the keys pinned neatly in place.

The two prisoners didn’t have any time to exchange sympathetic glances as they were marched awkwardly down the hall. The only sound that followed them was the high-pitched click of their heels on the concrete floor and the merry jingle of the dangling keys.

They were then bundled into an elevator and taken up to the main level of the estate and after another seemingly endless stroll, they were taken to a door that led outside, the first time they had been outside since they had been brought here. Given a choice, Mariko would have hoped that their exit would have been a little more dignified.

They walked down a long stone walkway to where they saw the makeup woman standing on the edge of the white stone driveway. When they arrived, the makeup lady made them stand for an inspection, adjusting here and primping there. They then were forced to parade back and forth so she could get a good look at them and, apparently satisfied, she dismissed the guards who returned to the house.

Mariko looked around the grounds noticing several caretakers. They paid no more attention to the two bound and gagged girls than they would a couple of secretaries out on their lunch hour. Mariko wondered if this sight could be more commonplace around here than she ever imagined. She shuddered at the possibilities.

Presently, a golf cart came bouncing up the road and came to a stop in front of the three women. A large man in filthy coveralls smelling distinctly of manure stepped out of the cart and asked the makeup woman, “Are deez dem?”

“No,” Mariko thought, “it’s the other sixteen girls standing around in ridiculous riding togs, wearing handcuffs and gags.”

The makeup woman assured the man that they were indeed the girls he was looking for and then stepped back. He guided Mariko and Courtney to the back of the golf cart and carefully seated them there, facing the rear. Mariko was so relieved to be off her already sore feet that she barely noticed as he fiddled with their hobbles and yanked in one end, causing a slip knot device on the wire to tighten, pulling the girl’s ankles snugly together.

The makeup lady bend down where the girls could easily see her and said, “You two have a nice day, and I’ll see you this evening… bye-bye!” she turned and without looking back, walked into the house.

The man spent a moment or two talking about the weather with the gardener who was trimming a nearby hedge, then, whistling a little off-key tune, he jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the cart around and headed off towards the distant stables with two very nervous, very uncomfortable passengers aboard.

The ride seemed longer for the girls than it really was, as they were roughly bounced about by the bumpy dirt road they were being shuttled down. Soon they were passing huge exercise pens, bordered with white stock yard fences, surrounding bright green manicured lawns. Most of the pens were occupied by varying numbers of beautiful horses prancing about, some being attended by grooms, others free to run about. Mariko couldn’t help but notice how idyllic it all appeared, and what a distinct contrast it was to their present situation.

Mariko squirmed in her bonds for a moment, testing… hoping the man driving wouldn’t notice. He didn’t, but It didn’t matter, she wasn’t going to get loose now, not a chance. She only prayed that someone would make a mistake and give her an opening for escape. Just a crack, which was all she would need. She could crawl miles to escape, run through streams to throw off the scent of the dogs that were sure to be sent after her. Duck the searchlights! (Hey! This is getting exciting!) Then she could climb that last fence and make it to freedom. The golf cart came to a sudden stop and Mariko’s momentum made her bump against the back of the seat, causing her handcuffs to click a notch tighter.

“Well, so much for fantasy. Back to reality,” she thought. There was certainly more interest here than back at the house. Several trainers walked by slowly, taking in our heroine’s predicament.

“Hey, babe, goin ridin?” one called out teasingly as he walked by.

Mariko tried to meet their stares, but almost immediately she found herself staring at the ground behind the cart trying to make herself as small as possible. The driver was writing something on a pad, and when he was finished he walked to the back of the cart and easily hoisted Mariko over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. With one hand on her rump for balance, he walked towards the nearby barn. As he neared the door he stopped a man who was passing by.

“Yo, Karl! Ya got a butt?” he yelled.

“Waddya talkin’ about? You already have one right there.” Replied Karl, motioning to all he could see of Mariko.

The big man fumbled in his pocked for a moment, “No, I don’t, I checked already,” replied Mariko’s chauffeur.

“I don’t believe this.” Mariko couldn’t help saying aloud. All that came out was “Eh dt beh tds,” and nobody paid any attention.

“Here, take one of my smokes, Lou,” Karl said as he lit the cigarette for him. “Palmer’s going riding today, huh Lou? Can I have a look?”

“Sure,” Lou replied as he turned around and Mariko found herself staring right into the face of Karl, another stable hand.

“Man, what a waste, this one’s a ten too, jut like the others!” This was definitely the most bizarre compliment Mariko ever had, and hopefully ever would receive.

“You have a good time now, ya hear?” Karl said as he walked away. Mariko just wished people would stop telling her to have fun in this screwed-up place.

Lou carried her into the barn and walked over to a horse stall in the corner. There he bent over and placed her feet in the straw in the middle of the stall. He squatted down and loosened Mariko’s hobble out to about six inches, enough for her to shuffle about in the stall and that was about it. He stepped out of the stall and closed the gate, then turned to Mariko and said, “I suggest dat ya don’t try ta sit down, ‘cause ya might get dirty. Undastand?”

“Yes, I understand!” Mariko tried to reply, but all she said was, “Yth eh nudthd.”

“What?”

“Ydth! Ni! Nudthsss!” she drooled a little.

“What?”

“Fhth Yyn Athhl!” she drooled a lot.

“Sorry honey, can’t understand what yer saying.” With that, he turned around and walked out to get Courtney. Mariko shuffled over to the gate and looked longingly at the latch. It was outside, she was inside… No way.

“Shthh!”

Almost immediately Lou returned with Courtney under his arm and deposited her next to Mariko. Then he closed the gate and left. Escape, although it certainly entered both girls’ minds, was out of the question. They stood as close as they could to each other trying to embrace the only comfort they had in this crazy world. The comfort would not last very long.

Lou returned carrying two small English saddles and blankets and dropped them in front of the stall. Then he called out to another man who was walking by the doors, “Hey Joe! Do me a favor an’ get Thunder and Cyclone for me will ya?”

Thunder!... Cyclone!... Mariko and Courtney looked at each other in terror. Lou didn’t seem to notice though, as he brought out a large crate and put it on the floor in front of the gate. Then he sat down on it and fiddled with one of the saddles. Joe appeared suddenly pulling two gigantic horses, one black, the other brown.

He tied the brown one to a post and led the black one over to the crate and helped Lou saddle it. The horse snorted but didn’t resist much. Mariko just couldn’t get over how big it was. Joe held the reins as Lou walked into the stall.

Courtney panicked and bolted as Lou approached, shuffling as fast as she could for the corner of the stall. Unfortunately, her mincing six-inch steps were no match for Lou’s stride. He simply took hold of the back of her pants and spun her around and steered her towards the gate. Mariko backed away into the other corner. Lou picked Courtney up, stood her on the crate next to the horse, and removed the hobble connecting her ankles. Then with one motion, he stepped up on the crate, grabbed Courtney by the back of the jacket and the seat of the pants and deposited her in the saddle.

“Hey there, little lady,” Joe drawled. “Cyclone’s a real good horse, why he ain’t throwed nobody for a couple of weeks, not!” Courtney was whimpering audibly. Joe continued, “Just don’t show him you're afraid, an’ whatever you do, don’t make any sudden movements or you'll spook him!”

Courtney’s body went absolutely rigid, not so much as a deep breath passing her lips, as the men finished up their work. They put her feet into the stirrups and then Mariko saw what those curious screw things on their heels were for. Lou carefully guided Courtney’s heel into a hole in the stirrup and pushed it down until the screw threads came out the bottom. He produced a wing nut from his pocket and tightened the nut on the threads, thus preventing Courtney from pulling her foot out of the stirrup.

He walked casually to the other side of the horse and repeated the procedure. Joe took the reins, led Cyclone to the side, and tied the horse to another post. Courtney still hadn’t moved a muscle. While Joe was getting Thunder into position beside the crate, Lou turned to Mariko and said, “Don’t keep us waitin’ sweetie.”

It didn’t take a kick in the head for Mariko to realize the futility of resistance. She put her head down to watch where she was going and shuffled forward. By the time she arrived at the crate Thunder was saddled and waiting. The closer she got to her mount, the more amazed she was at just how big horses really get, and just how much she didn’t want to see how big it was from the horse’s back.

Lou settled any doubts she might have had by grabbing her and swiftly depositing her in the saddle. Momentarily, her feet were secured in the stirrups and Joe was cautioning, “Remember, no sudden movements.” The warning was unnecessary, as Mariko had been following Courtney’s lead from the moment she hit the saddle.

“Remember girls, don’t spook them!” Joe said as he walked away chuckling. Lou took both sets of reins and led the reluctant equestriennes out of the barn. The sound of hoof beats thundered up from behind the girls. Neither dared turn to look, but their eyes flashed back and forth desperately, trying for a glimpse.

“Yo Ho, you two! I see you’re right on time.” Allison called from behind, but both girls still stared straight ahead. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

She slowly coaxed her mount around to where her new playmates could see her. Allison was dressed in a red flannel shirt, jeans, cowboy boots and a worn cowboy hat. She slowly rode her horse around the girls, checking them out.

“I’ve got the lunch, the wine, plenty of rope; I can’t think of anything else we could need for our picnic. Can you?” She reached back into her saddle bag and removed an expensive-looking camera and took a dozen or so photos of the girls from various angles. “For my album.” Allison explained.

On the third time around, she noticed that the only time her little pets were looking at her was when she was directly in front of them. She suddenly stopped short in front of the two girls, who sat rigidly in their saddles. Allison leaned forward and examined her captives faces closely.

“They told you the horses’ names, didn’t they?”

Both girls nodded ever so slightly. A smile broke across Allison’s face and she burst into laughter. Both horses were startled and both riders screamed into their gags, but neither horse moved. Allison began to regain control of herself, “Their names are a joke, you dummies! These are two big marshmallows. They wouldn’t hurt a fly. You can scream and struggle, or anything you want, and they won’t move. They’re completely trained.”

It took a moment, but then both girls realized that their captor was telling the truth. They both slumped in their saddles.

“Look at me.” Allison ordered, and both visibly relieved girls complied. “There are about a million and one things I have left to do to you two. And I plan on doing each and every one to you at my leisure, but I’m not going to hurt you.” With that, Allison reached down and untied the reins from the post and tied them to her saddle’s pommel.

“Ready for some fun in the sun, girls? What do you say to a gallop!” Allison shouted as she spun her horse about and headed for the trail. Mariko and Courtney were about to begin the ride of their lives.