{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"04bbee86-524e-4787-a75e-4e92874376db","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2020-10-04T16:20:38.051Z","title":"Pony Reality","slug":"pony-reality","shortId":"bYecETuj","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Novella","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A bored woman accidentally sees an image of a captive ‘ponygirl’ on the Internet. An image that intrigues and stimulates so much that she actively starts planning a ‘lifestyle’ change. A change that will not only apply to her life but also more radically to that of another woman!","partCount":5,"parts":[{"partId":"32bac3aa-f5f9-47cf-aa2d-caf9651b0065","title":null,"summary":"Author's Note: I re-discovered the first few chapters of this story on an old PC hard drive. I’d sta","wordCount":49089,"readTime":246,"number":1,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"66cdee85-2478-43b2-9b7e-0993149e49d1","title":null,"summary":"Chapter 13 I paused momentarily outside the old wooden\ndoors before I entered the stable taking a co","wordCount":6628,"readTime":33,"number":2,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"b8ebd290-7e8d-41ad-85f9-72d9ef53bc2f","title":null,"summary":"Authors note: this was posted in error. The same as part three. I removed the original part three bu","wordCount":5151,"readTime":26,"number":4,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"3b477d85-c1e3-47d4-b62b-f7f97f2495d6","title":null,"summary":"Chapter 15She got her first full taste of the obligatory mouth bit as I released her from the bench ","wordCount":3072,"readTime":15,"number":5,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"1179d8d1-ba43-4bf5-89a9-7be1f8b9b305","title":null,"summary":"Note: This chapter ends Pony Reality part one.Chapter 16I made extra sure that my house and stable d","wordCount":5638,"readTime":28,"number":6,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

Author's Note: I re-discovered the first few chapters of this story on an old PC hard drive. I’d started it about five years ago and decided to play around with it again while on holiday last summer. It is posted on another site where it is still work in progress, but I thought I’d also add it here. Generally, the reaction from most readers was very favourable but I do write far too slowly for some peoples, personal taste! Sorry but I doubt if that will ever change. Once again I am into a dark tale of non-consensual slavery and human-animal play. If people are interested, I will add additional chapters as and when I can.

Chapter 1 - Background to an Idea

It was around seven one evening in late spring when I first discovered what was to change my life entirely. As usual there was nothing on TV likely to capture my attention for very long despite the plethora of channels available. The usual crop of soap operas, much-repeated news, moronic reality and game shows and second-rate documentaries on obscure topics seemed the standard fare on offer.

Consequently, and as so often before I turned to the internet for entertainment. Did I want to play one of the online games I subscribed to? No. I wasn't in the mood for killing monsters or chatting with guildmates, most of whom would be absent anyway having moved to pasture new as the latest generation of multi-player pixels became available for electronic violence, or maybe they were huddled alone over there Xbox's or whatever.

Browse books to buy or peruse eBay, nope, loads of unread material on both my kindle and iPad already and eBay was just impulse browsing anyway, nothing I needed desperately or probably needed at all. Holiday browse again perhaps? I had not had a holiday as such for many years. I usually stayed at home and pottered about the farm. This year I had semi made up my mind to do something different. Book a package holiday to somewhere exotic. Nice, but I wasn't a 'laze around on the beach in a bikini' type person. I was not much of a 'bikini babe' anyway. Being somewhat petite in stature and slightly underdeveloped in the bust department. I don't so much need a top, more a small strip of ribbon.

That left my other fancy that was slowly growing, Pony trekking. I had taken riding lessons when I was younger and had also worked Saturday afternoons as a stable girl at my local riding school. I had enjoyed that, especially the ponies and young colts and fillies. I was always a little scared of the older stallions and bigger mares, something to do with my diminutive size I suppose, even today only standing four feet ten in my bare feet. They wouldn't have let me ride one anyway although I had a yen to do so. I remembered the smell still, a heady mixture of horse, earth, sweat, dung, fresh straw, leather tack, that overall animal odour.

I also nearly had my first orgasm on a pony while out one Sunday afternoon, trotting at the tail end of a string of fourteen-year old's. My beast being more than a touch overweight was inclined to be lazy, and we kept on falling behind the group. Mrs Frobisher was the lead rider and also owned the riding school that was a part of the farm she ran with her husband. She cantered back to me. \"Keep up girl, keep up, don't let him lag like that.\"

\"How?\" I had asked somewhat apologetically. I was slightly scared of Mrs Frobisher. She was at least six feet tall, lean but with a good figure, harsh-voiced and always with a semi-permanent haughty, superior expression on her face. In her younger days, she had been a successful show jumper and even competed for team GB at the Olympics. I had the impression that she wasn't entirely happy in her marriage and rather resented her present circumstances. A fact confirmed a few years later when she featured in all the tabloid newspapers for a few days after catching her husband and a young (but legal age) stable girl in a very compromising situation. All she'd done was lash out a few times with her riding crop.

She was arrested for assault following a complaint from the girl's parents, and naturally, all the tabloids made a meal of it. 'Horse Mistress flogs amorous stable girl', etc. A whole bevvy of similar headlines abounded as I recalled for the next few days and then again at the magistrates hearing. She got off with a fine and a number of hour's community service. She also got the riding school and a fair part of her ex-husband's farm in the subsequent divorce. Her husband got the (pregnant) stable girl much to the latter's parents' fury. They boycotted the eventual wedding entirely.

\"Use your whip girl. What do you think it's for? It's not some damn fashion accessory to your outfit\" she had snapped while simultaneously dragging on her reins and wheeled the large stallion she was mounted on around and galloped back to the front of the group. \" Teach the lazy beast who is in charge\" she shouted over her shoulder.

I was always impressed with her horsemanship. The commanding presence she exerted over all her mounts. There were one or two known troublemakers stalled in the stables. Large stallions. Students were not allowed to ride them, and those helping in the stables had to be accompanied by a more experienced handler if having anything to do with them. Inevitably these were the mounts Mrs Frobisher chose. Rarely was there any resistance shown to her. The one occasion I saw one get rather frisky and jumpy after mounting she had savagely hauled its head nearly upright on a tight rein, while shouting \"still\" a few times and lashing out several times with her riding crop on its flank and rump, it immediately quieted.

I took her advice, indeed her command and applied a light swipe to my mounts rump with the switch I carried. Indeed, it was the first time I had ever used it. Well, not entirely true. I can recall admiring my reflection in the bedroom mirror while outfitted in jodhpurs, jacket, hat, and shiny high black riding boots and then giving my bottom an experimental tap. A little too hard. It hurt. Quite the perfect little equestrian aged fourteen. Looking back now I can also remember feeling a slight tingle within me at the time although I did not recognise why.

The light swipe did not affect my mount one iota and slightly fearful of lagging further behind and incurring a second visit from Mrs Frobisher; I applied a couple of harder ones. I had no real reason to be afraid of her. She was just one of those people that you inevitably feel a little apprehensively about. I think it was partly her height and also the commanding and rather intolerant air she had about her. My school headmistress also had that same effect on pupils and parents alike. My father defined it as the 'don't mess with me' aura!

A couple of harder swipes with the crop and the young filly I was riding leapt forward. I had to rein back a touch; otherwise, I'd have soon been up front alongside the formidable Mrs Frobisher. However, the trotting motion, up and down up and down as I bumped in the saddle and the act of cropping the beast, exerting my will had a rather peculiar effect on me. I felt growing wetness at my crotch and a strong sense of sexual arousal. I wasn't naive about such things. I knew all about orgasms from the modern women's magazines available plus numerous chats with school girlfriends and the odd sex lesson our senior school curriculum insisted we have. Those lessons as I recall were clinically biological and predominantly aimed at the various methods for avoiding getting pregnant rather than on the joys of sex.

I didn't achieve orgasm, but the sensation was quite delicious, and I was a bit disappointed when we arrived back at the stables to the mundane chores of removing saddles and tack and rubbing down our mounts. I raced back home and up to my bedroom. Boots, jodhpurs, and panties off and then laying back on my bed stimulating myself with my fingers. It wasn't the first time I'd played with myself; I'd indulged before but never achieved any success other than a certain initial dampness. I had never been to that 'heaven' where Gloria Johnson claimed to go every time she masturbated accompanied by a picture of her favourite boy band member. Three times last night she would gleefully boast during our between lesson breaks.

Maybe my problem was that I never had a favourite boy band member or girl band member come to that or anyone else. I know my parents worried about me. I never had a boyfriend. I remember once hearing my mother remark when she thought I was not around, that at least I wasn't interested in girls either thank goodness. On reflection, I think my parents were perhaps more than a bit homophobic. They needn't have worried. True I was not the least interested in boys. In general, I found them clumsy, loutish, unattractive and tedious. Girls I got on with better but only in a social context as friends and schoolmates. As I grew older, my circle of friends lessened considerably as their interests blossomed to encompass romance, relationships, marriage, children and so forth. I rarely kept in touch with people.

My first ever orgasm and probably the most intense I would experience for a long time was while laying back on my bed after that Sunday afternoon ride. I came almost as soon as I started to finger myself and then a second and third time. That was the only time I'd ever achieved multiple orgasms despite trying on other occasions since. Strange that I never examined the reasons as to why I climaxed so quickly that day and why I enjoyed the quick succession of repetitions. In hindsight now, of course, I understand the reason. It was that heady combination of pony movement coupled with the exhilarating feeling of masterful omnipotence over the beast beneath me as I cropped it into submission to my will. Sadly, despite the intensity of the experience it rapidly passed from my memory. An excited fourteen-year-old would relate not just one, but three orgasms achieved yesterday to her circle of friends the next day. Yes, three. Wow, cool, like unbelievable and similar responses but a tedious algebra lesson followed by an equally dull geography period soon dulled the memory of a pleasant experience and more importantly what had triggered it.

I never hit the same high again. A couple more years at school followed by Uni. The odd short relationship. I lost my virginity at the advanced age of nineteen to a slightly older guy with whom I thought I was in love. It didn't last. We split up after a few months. Our lovemaking became monotonous and tedious. Always the missionary position. Always him poking me and coming after a short spate of thrusts. I realised one night that I loathed the guy. That was also the night he wanted me to suck his dick. I remember looking with repulsion at the reddened stubby half erect organ he was pathetically waving at me. The one that had poked me almost every night for the last three months and yet had never done anything for me other than empty it's seed into my vagina. Yes, I was on the pill, and no lover boy would not use a condom on account of being Catholic. That's about as far as his religion went. Never went to church or anything but a good excuse for riding me bareback!

I refused even to contemplate what he wanted. We rowed and split the next day thank god. He was my first and to date, my last lover. I surreptitiously bought a little vibrator on a girlfriends advice and used that on the rare occasions I felt randy which wasn't very often. After Uni I remained single, went into accountancy, became I suppose, a reliable but boring little mouse. I was a natural loner. My sex life was non-existent, and my only intimate contact never went beyond the odd annual boozy good-natured grope at the Xmas office party in the finance department of the big London company that employed me.

My parents sadly both passed on, and I inherited the family home if you could call it that. An isolated old farmhouse well off the beaten track about twenty minutes' drive from Norwich in Norfolk. It had once been the centrepiece of a thriving farm, but most of the surrounding land had long since been sold off leaving just the main house, some outbuildings in various states of decay, a wooded area and a couple of smallish overgrown paddocks.

My mother who had survived my father by a couple of years died around the time I was made redundant due to a significant takeover of my firm by a prominent German multi-national company. They offered me another post, but I decided to opt for redundancy and take advantage of a generous offer that was available. I didn't need it as my parents had been reasonably well off and never been big spenders. I was also bored and truth to tell, rather lonely in the capital. I felt it might be nice to return to Norfolk and take up residence in the country again. I needed a lifestyle change, but never could have I envisaged at the time that it would lead to such a significant difference in my life and interests and also have a very severe and unfortunate impact on others.

Ok, so the bikini was probably out. I didn't have one anyway. What did I want from a holiday? Romance? Not really. I'd never hankered after Mr. right and having just turned thirty felt even less interested in it. Sun? Nice but I could live without it. Anyway, I burned pretty easy. I was never one to go bronze or pine for the tanning parlour. Company? Perhaps. I was becoming something of a recluse. Probably have to go on some sort version of a package holiday to get that and what kind of company would it be? Possibly unwelcome, potentially dull, also inescapable for a set period. Hmmm.

An activity holiday perhaps. What about going riding again or pony trekking then? Maybe the company would be more interesting with a common theme. Were there holidays that went from a to b through to c and so forth rather than just out and back from the same stables every day. My first proper holiday for a long time and I warmed to the theme and switched on my desktop PC. As the hard drive beeped and LED's flashed, my life was about to change and so would that of a young woman living in another country far away. Neither of us knew it yet, but our futures were to be linked, one for better and one for worse and for me, it would not be the worse!

Chapter 2 - An idea better than Pony Trekking

God, this thing, gets slower I thought. Ah, ready, finally. Fast broadband internet was about the only thing I missed from London. Our local connection speed was adequate at best. What was I looking for? Pony trekking, girls around my own age for company, holiday. My fingers tapped out the words pony, girl, holiday trekking into the search engine followed by the return key. The results came up, and I clicked automatically on the first link without paying much attention to it. I was half thinking of getting a coffee and went to make one even as I clicked on the key. I needed to feed my dog as well.

I sat down again. I stared at the image on the screen in front of me. I don't recall how long I sat and stared at the screen. It can't have been all that long. It felt like a long time. It was without a doubt one of those 'life changing' moments. Maybe such events always seem to last for a long time even if in reality they are only a few seconds long.

There was an image on the screen. A drawing or rather what I believe is called a CG image. It depicted a near naked young woman, nude apart from a rather severe-looking black leather body harness that restrained her. On her head, she wore another type of harness with a tall red feather-like plume sticking up vertically. Her face was contorted into a fearful grimace, her eyes flashing a mixture of fear, anger, apathy, and despair. It was all there. The artist was terrific whoever he or maybe she was. A bar partly covered her mouth, a bit, in fact, just like people used on horses I realised as I took in the details in the picture. Her long naked legs were sheathed in black knee-high length high heeled boots - no not high heeled, there were no heels, they ended in what looked like horses hoofs of all things. Her breasts, thighs and flanks were crisscrossed with numerous wicked red stripes.

A wide leather belt encircled the young woman's waist and was attached on each side to a pair of long wooden shafts leading back to a small two-wheeled buggy type of cart upon which two figures were seated. Both of them were women and lounging in cushioned comfort on their unusual conveyance. On the right sat an older woman negligently holding a long set of reins in her gloved right hand. The reins led forward to the bit in the harnessed girls mouth. The woman was mature and formally dressed in red riding coat, dressage style top hat, leather gloves, beige jodhpurs tucked into gleaming black riding boots. Next to her wearing a short summer dress sat a smaller and much younger looking girl with long blonde hair framing a rather innocent and angelic looking face. However, there was nothing innocent about the long, vicious whip she was wielding as she flicked it forward clearly aiming to add yet another painful red stripe to the tormented girl between the shafts. Nor was there anything innocent in the way the older woman had her left arm right around her youthful companion, a leather gloved hand visibly fondling the younger girl's left breast.

I stared at the picture quite mesmerised for some seconds. Of course, I'd seen porn before. Who hasn't? The internet is full of such stuff not that I had ever conscientiously gone looking for such. It just wasn't my thing - or rather hadn't been up to now. That was about to change.

That picture fascinated me. It hit me in the right spot almost like an electric shock. Talk about triggers being pulled, or buttons pressed, we'll mine were well and truly pulled and pushed and I went off instantly just as if I was a gun being fired. Unconsciously I parted my thighs, and my right hand reached down to massage my crotch. I was hot and wet just from looking at that one image.

The expression on that poor bound girl's face and the way the two women were using her to pull that cart as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The older woman's relaxed posture and her obvious interest in the girl beside her rather than the unfortunate woman in front of her. The casual way she almost seemed to be ignoring the woman on the end of her reins as if such a thing was an everyday norm in her world. The laughing face of the young girl as she wielded that nasty looking whip without any apparent concern as to the pain she might be causing her victim. Indeed, her expression gave the impression that she delighted in leaving those vicious red stripes on her helpless victim's skin. Again, such practice was evidently the norm in their particular world.

I continued to stare fascinated by the image. I imagined that carriage bouncing along pulled by the woman in the bondage harness. How fast could she go? How did she manage in those horses heeled like boots? That whip must hurt. Could she even scream with that bit like a gag in her mouth? I noticed that her arms were tightly and probably painfully bound behind her back. She had no way to escape, no option, no refusal just had to run and pull and hope to avoid that whip through her efforts. Was she whipped all the time or just to speed her up? How must those exposed breasts bounce about? Was she doing this for fun like some sort of masochist? Surely not. They were treating her like....like she was merely an animal!

My fingers found what they were looking for between my legs and began to massage my clit. I was very wet, wetter down there than I had been in years. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had my fingers down there or even used my vibrator where ever it was now. In my imagination, I sat in that cart. I held the reins and that long whip. Forget the little blonde, I wasn't gay and fondling some teens tits was not likely to turn me on. The woman in harness though was a different matter. Those bouncing tits and arse cheeks! How I would have liked to wield the whip on them and make them jiggle and dance to my tune. Did that mean I was a closet BDSM type gay? No, she was not a woman, she was a sort of animal, a helpless beast to be used at my behest. I came at that moment in what was for me a pretty massive orgasm that seemed to go on for quite a while. I shuddered and groaned in pleasure, my juices flowing freely to saturate my panties and jeans. The aroma of an aroused and sexually sated woman filled the air banishing the odour of fresh coffee from my desk space.

I spent the next few hours exploring further. What a great medium the internet was. I book-marked the page in my favourites and also created a file folder titled 'horse girls' to save the image on my screen. Sipping my coffee slowly, I began to utilise the seemingly infinite resources of the world wide web. To my disappointment, the picture that had caught my attention so effectively seemed to be a one-off. It was titled 'Madam's afternoon ride .' The site I was on seemed to be a bondage one. There were variously themed subsections, rubber, lesbian, leather, indoor, outdoor, etc. The one I had landed on was called 'pet girls'. I perused a succession of drawings and photos, some singles, some part of a series and all depicting woman in one way or another either willing or unwilling imitating some form of an animal. There were many cats and kittens, dogs and puppies, cows with huge breasts, a couple of exotic birds and one or two other types. However, by far the most numerous were the horse like girls. There must have been a couple of hundred of them. Ponygirls was the standard tag.

The site was a free one put together by someone with pictures they had collected off the internet. Indeed, they said this was just a small sample of their collection, and for a small one-off fee, you could have full access to the main collection. God, if this was a small sample, then how big was the main collection and how much of this stuff was there on the internet? The mind boggled. Was it legal anyway to put pictures up that you didn't own? Probably not but that was only a brief passing thought as I investigated further.

I renamed my recently created folder. I called it human animals and added a subfolder titled ponygirls. My interest was well and truly captured. I spent several hours on that site and then on a few others. I was right there was loads of material out there in the vast void that was the internet.

I typed 'pony girl' into the search engines or 'pet girl' and began saving bookmarks. I created a favourites folder specially for them. I quickly found out that the material fell into several categories. There were photos and drawings or some other types of art. The photos tended to fall into two types. There were high-quality glossy girlie magazine-type images of harnessed girls invariably smiling at the camera. Smiling! Many of them single poses but occasionally a duo. I also came across a few that included a scantily clad or near nude whip-wielding mistress. The makeup was always immaculate. Rouged cheeks, gleaming white teeth clamped down on loosely applied mouth bits, between glossy red lips. Leather or latex harness glistening in its pristine newness. Not a red whip mark to be seen. No blood sweat and tears here. Page three with a bit and head harnesses. Hmmm. I'd bet anything that all those fearsome looking leather harness straps would have hardly even been tightened either. Mustn't leave any marks on that nubile flesh because of the little darlings next photo-shoot!

The other type of photos looked somewhat more homemade frequently being of a smaller size and much lower quality. They tended to depict a variety of woman of all ages in an extensive range of head and body harnesses. In general, these women were older than the glossy professional models, and many of the pictures were taken outside rather than studio posed. They wore their different outfits and harnesses with a bit more realism and not quite so many fixed smiles although not one looked truly terrified. Unlike the posed bimbo's many of the pictures often featured a master type figure rather than a mistress. Many of the photo's seemed to have been taken at some event or gathering. They had that sameness and feeling to them. Apparently, the people posing were couples, mostly Male/female although there were the occasional Female/female and even a couple of Male/male ones. I also saw a few wearing those horse style boots rather than the stilettos the glossy models always wore.

They pulled carts, stood waiting patiently with reins looped over posts and rails or were led by about by their owners, some in pairs some single. Others wore saddles of varying sizes. Most stood upright, but some were down on all fours. One or two even wore nosebags or had their heads in water troughs. Despite the plethora of whips and crops on display, hardly a single one appeared to have been used on any of the subjects.

I liked the art pictures much better. The range was huge from simple pen and ink sketches through to large detailed computer-generated images. The subject was a popular one. There were lots in a sort of Japanese Asian cartoony style that I disliked. Way too many of those images of huge-eyed women and girls in what I thought were rather weak and unrealistic drawings. Maybe that was just my western perspective as some people must like them from the amount available.

Over the course of the next day or so, I soon established a portfolio of pictures that appealed to me. Generally faithful to life type images of harnessed and helpless women being used as beasts of burden as they laboured for their respective mistresses. (The ones with masters didn't do anything for me). Pulling carts or buggies, being ridden, or even ploughing fields and always under the threat of whip or crop. Those that carried the marks of such implements were the ones I liked best.

A frantic search through my dressing table saw my little pink vibrator emerge from its long hibernation and that weekend it saw more use than in most of the previous decade. Thank god the batteries were still good! I remember laying back on my bed late Saturday afternoon. Legs wide apart, post-orgasmic juices trickling down on to the damp duvet cover, breasts still heaving in the aftermath of my third orgasm of the day. Three! Just what the hell was going on?

My favourite was a sequence featuring a ponygirl called Beauty. It probably shouldn't even have been available. It was a 'jailbait' series as it featured a very young pre-pubescent girl. There were thirty frames, all in colour, very well drawn. There were no cartoon-like speech bubbles or attendant written narrative, merely headings that left the viewer to use their own imagination. I never found out who the artist was nor came across any more examples of their work though I frequently looked.

The first few frames featured an auction attended by Mary-Beth and her mother. They were going to buy a pony for her birthday, but not just any old pony, it was to be a human one.

Several frames were labelled choices one, two, three, etc. as Mary-Beth and her mother closely inspected various human ponies both male and female. I loved the way the artist had captured the hopeless emotion expressed on the faces of the helplessly restrained creatures as they were intimately examined.

Another set was simply labelled auction one, two three, etc. Mary-Beth and her mother sat in the front row of a small group of people as bidding commenced. The buyers were a diverse group. They ranged from corpulent businessmen, Arabs in traditional dress, women of various ages from a pair of gorgeous looking young model types to an aged and wicked looking well-dressed matron. The latter also sat in the front row casually holding the leash of a human male dog that knelt beside her. African style leaders, a man in severe religious robes and a dark-eyed woman wearing the traditional head to foot black burka common in some ultra-conservative countries.

Some frames featured the ponies on the auction block, others the successful buyers leading away their new purchases. The one showing the two young models leading away a tall pony boy was particularly good. The terrified expression on his face contrasting with the cruel one on one of the model types already wielding her crop viciously.

There was one frame titled purchase as Mary-Beth bought a strong muscular Amazon type ponygirl. The remaining frames were titled training, riding, and broken. Mary-Beth aided by her mother and a whip ruthlessly trained the girl who was not the only occupant of the stables as other ponies both male and female featured. Mary-Beth's mother apparently had quite a collection. The final frame showed the mother riding in an elegant carriage pulled by two pairs of well whip marked ponies, Males in front and females behind. Next to her rode young Mary-Beth, black riding hat, red coat, jodhpurs, boots, crop, and spurs. Her mount the unfortunate Amazon now bent forward, harnessed, helpless, saddled, bridled and broken. A proud Mary-Beth rode at her ease while her sweaty mount marked savagely from crop and spurs desperately ran alongside the carriage carrying her young burden.

I often returned to that set and exercised my pink sex toy as well as my imagination. I remembered my riding orgasm of many years before. God if only I could have had my own Amazon! I fantasied a lot. Did I want some pretty pet all dolled up in lipstick and mascara, smelling sweet and straight out of a men's wank mag........no I wanted a sweating, smelly rebellious animal carrying the marks of my crop, cane, and whip on her wretched hide? I remembered Mrs Frobisher. I would stand no nonsense from my strong, proud filly or mare. I would show them who was boss and tame her. I wanted to saddle her, ride her, rake my sharp pointed spurs down her long hind legs and hear her whinny in pain and fear!

My pink vibrator was certainly getting a lot of overtime; I even bought a second larger one plus a battery charger and some rechargeable batteries off eBay. I spent hours on the internet looking at one site after another and accumulated quite a collection of photos, artwork, video clips and stories. Even Amazon I discovered had a reasonable amount of erotic fiction Kindle books available on or related to the theme.

My favourite writer always amused me. He or she had a number of excellent stories on the subject, always very dark and extremely non-consensual. They invariably always started off with a bold, italic preamble warning, to the effect that what they were writing about was not very nice and not to read if you were easily offended, etc. Also, that the story was pure fiction and that the events described would be utterly abhorrent if carried out in reality with the appalling degree of cruelty and degradation inflicted.

Really? It was the descriptions of 'cruelty and degradation' being inflicted that turned me on. I suspect that I am by no means alone in that. However, how many people had the means to turn their fantasy's into reality? Did people do that, and that question started me on a whole new train of research.

Once again the internet provided me with a vast amount of material. God, if the police ever took a look at my hard drive, they'd have all the evidence they'd ever need! Kidnappings were reasonably common it seemed, sadly too often involving children. Now that was genuinely abhorrent, and I had absolutely no interest in that. There were several well-documented cases of long-term kidnappings that had all ended with the victim's release and the captor's imprisonment. I frequently wondered just how many cases there were that had gone undocumented because no one had ever found out about them?

Many of the stories and books I'd read revolved around wealthy influential people who invariably had super discrete private estates where they trained, bought and sold stock, even bred them also frequently held races or auctions of their many unwilling captives. Did such places exist? Was there a global network of owners? Did some nubile Hollywood starlet have her private kennel complete with a quartet of human male dogs that she'd whipped into grovelling canine obedience? Did some Arab princess control a stable of helpless male and female equines? Did some corrupt African potentate regularly take a carriage for a spin with half a dozen white two-legged mares and stallions harnessed between the tracers?

Well if they did, I certainly had no way of finding out. Indeed, I strongly suspected that poking one's nose into such situations would neither be wise or prudent. I had no desire to end up in a kennel or a stall as a forgotten missing person statistic. Anyway, who would even report me?

That sent me to bed with another line of thought to consider. Just how many people did go missing every year? Yes, there was often a major outcry when a child or young woman went missing, articles in the daily newspapers, on the news, regular updates and appeals from the police to the public. Yet one was always reading about kids running away from home, homeless people and the like. Surely there was a lot of, of.... sort of undocumented people out there. People who would not be missed because they were already missing?

Chapter 3 - Planning and execution of an idea

I remember precisely when the idea came to me. My very own road to Damascus moment. I'd run out of groceries again. I was always doing that. I wasn't a fussy eater and rarely planned my meals just eating what I had in the refrigerator or cupboards. On this occasion, I had let things run on for too long, and the cupboard was bare thus necessitating an emergency run to my nearest supermarket. I'd gone out to the old stable building I used as a garage for my rather elderly little car.

I'd half thought of getting a horse a couple of times and taking up riding again but then always discarded the idea. Too much work and was I actually all that keen? I stared momentarily at the old empty stalls. I had sat up late the previous night having found a lengthy new story on the internet, quite a juicy non-consensual one and my vibrator had also seen some extended use. I stopped dead. But what about....no...it was impossible....silly. I seem to remember shaking a little. But what if it was possible?

What if instead of looking at a miscellaneous collection of mouldering old junk I was staring at my very own ponygirl. My ponygirl bridled and bitted, tethered in her stall, the apprehension no fear in her eyes as I, her owner approached. The recent marks of my whip visible on pale hide overlaying the many older ones that crisscrossed on buttocks, back and breasts. The stench of sweat, stale piss and shit, leather tack and unwashed animal odour and above all, fear. What if? Indeed, what if? I drove to the supermarket that day deep in thought.

That probably would have been the end of it, but a couple of days later I was in the nearby village. Most people go to the post office to buy stamps and the like. My local village post office sells them along with about a zillion other things being a small convenience store as well. It was the last place I would have expected to find a human pony!

Well to be honest the Asian couple who ran it did not sell me one although it was probably about the only thing they didn't stock. I'd been astonished the previous week by them having an ink cartridge for my old printer! No, it was a conversation I accidentally overheard while waiting to return a 'wrong item' back to an eBay seller.

Two plump farmers wives, at least I assumed that's who they were stood talking before me in the short queue.

\"Of course, they are all illegals, no one knows about them\".

\"Where does he get them from\"?

\"Some gangmaster, he calls him up and tells him how many he needs for the job and for how long. He pays the guy less than the minimum wage who then probably pays them a pittance, plus they get board and lodgings deducted while they are on the job whatever it is. Potato picking, veg peeling or whatever.\"

\"Slave Labour\"!

\"That's what it amounts to. Men and women. He's been nabbed by the authorities before, but he still does it. Says it's cheaper to pay the fine and carry on than hire proper people. Half of them apparently do a runner anyway from those caravans of his and who knows where they end up?

\"Surprised he's got the guts for something like that. My Charlie knows him, ses he 's weaker than a piece of wet toilet tissue and folds at the slightest pressure he does. All mouth and now't in his trousers!\"

My ears had picked up. I had been idly contemplating a tin of Irish stew on a nearby shelf as a quick and easy lunch item when my attention switched. The conversation died as one woman became the next customer at the grill. My mind worked fast, so fast that being by nature rather a shy and reserved person I surprised myself.

\"Was that Bob Jenkins farm you were talking about?\" I enquired in a slightly disapproving tone. \"I heard he'd been in trouble again with the immigration people.\"

The woman turned to look at me and shook her head. No love, never heard of him although it wouldn't surprise me, half of them are on the fiddle these days.\"

I laughed. \"So, what's new.\"

\"True\", the woman shook her head. \"It were that Thomas Granger, him that has Grange Farm down Church road aways.\"

Conversation ceased at that point as it was her turn to be served. I don't think I ever saw her again. It's funny the way things can turn out. That brief, casual chat was another major turning point in my journey towards human pony ownership.

A quick survey via Google maps showed me the location of Grange farm and a day in town looking at back copies of the local newspaper gave me some background information on farmer Grangers previous conviction. Google maps even showed the caravans that he used to accommodate his illegals. The only downside was that according to the report in the paper the magistrates had indicated that they would be less lenient were he to be caught employing illegal labour again. Had I discovered something too late?

The farm was about eight miles from my house by road and on the opposite side of the village. I drove past for the first time the following morning, slowing down both ways to peer through a rather sparse hedgerow. Fortunately, the caravans were parked not too far from the narrow country lane. Evidently, farmer Granger didn't give a four xxxx who saw what was going on. There were three dilapidated caravans parked at the edge of a field on a crumbling strip of concrete. Maybe they were just too far gone to be moved. I saw at least three flat tyres, and two caravans leaned to one side. That was not the first time I reconnoitred the site. I did that twice a week for the next two months. I was on the verge of giving up when finally, I spotted some garments hanging on a line sagging between one caravan and a nearby tree.

Next day I parked my car near the church which gave the road its name, hoisted a small pack on my back, slung a pair of cheap binoculars around my neck and went bird watching. I giggled a bit at the thought. Well, I was after one type of particular bird, wasn't I? Anyway, it was just a game. Sometimes I took Raven the young black German shepherd dog I'd recently bought for company.

My bird watching trips lasted for about a fortnight. By then I had realised that all the occupants of the caravans were male. I briefly contemplated having a Ponyboy but quickly dismissed the idea. I had an entire hard drive full of ponygirl material, and any ponyboys or mention of them was merely peripheral to my primary interest. It was a big disappointment but also a relief, no more tramping up and down that damn lane pretending to be interested in birds and dog walking.

The caravans were empty so far as I could see when I next drove that way, and it was approaching winter now, so I assumed that they would be empty till the spring. Maybe even a lot longer if the farmer had mended his ways.

I wasn't idle though, far from it. My fantasy had now become a semi-serious hobby. I had already acquired numerous items from various sources via the internet. It amused me whenever I received a parcel from the postal service or a delivery firm. Did they know they were delivering an item of bondage equipment or a nasty whip or crop, perhaps a piece of particular tack? No, of course, they didn't. It did, however, make me 'visitor conscious'. My old farm buildings were set back away from the road and with lightly wooded areas on both sides plus a couple of fields to the rear again surrounded by woods. Nevertheless, I decided as part of my plan I would cut out as many unnecessary visitors as I could. I thereby made arrangements for mail and parcels to be left at the village post office and for a fee, my non-postal deliveries.

Strange, but making such plans added immensely to my sexual stimulation even if it was all fantasy. They were all part of the Master Plan. Hell, I remember thinking to myself 'Masterplan', I wasn't exactly going to invade occupied Europe! Still, it was my plan, and even if it was just a harmless bit of imaginary fun, it had to be foolproof, at least in my mind. The one thing I 'd noted from my research was that spontaneity never worked. I intended that no book about me and my victim would ever appear on Amazon! That was in the highly unlikely event of my ever having one.

The kit arriving in my various parcels was not cheap. I did not want the bondage 'play set' stuff sold in sex shops, eBay, and popular online exotic lingerie sites. I wanted the real thing. Well made, heavy, durable, inescapable, and unfortunately always highly expensive. Luckily I could afford it. At some point, my little hobby must have crossed the line between fantasy and reality but the line was blurred, and I wasn't conscious of it. I could afford it. Maybe I'd advertise for a play partner one day?

I spent time (and more money) out in the old stable building. I had the roof checked and all the rotten timbers and broken or missing roof tiles replaced. That alone cost a small fortune. The same company put in a water supply for me along with a heater and a large stainless-steel sink. Another significant expense was the electrics. A complete rewire and then the addition of security lighting, a security system, and a surveillance system. I told that company I was going to start a small riding school and maybe take in a few liveries, so I wanted everything to be secure. A new door frame and heavy wooden door complete with security lock finished off the project. I told myself it all needed doing anyway, I used it as a garage and maybe I ought to treat my self to a more expensive sexier car.

I'd been so busy organising my stable and equipment as well as maintaining the daily internet browsing that I'd almost forgotten about the farm caravans. I had also been partly mulling over plans b, c and even d, as various ideas occurred to me. None of which, however, were all that practicable. I was less than five feet tall and certainly not built to overpower someone much bigger physically. Nor did I have access to the things people in stories always had. They always knew shadowy kidnappers or were shoving needles into people or putting cloths over their faces with chemicals that instantly knocked them out. Either that or they had access to electric stunning devices which were all illegal and unobtainable in the UK.

I was taking a shortcut heading for a dental appointment when I noticed there were lights on in the caravan windows as I drove past. They were still on when I returned, so I braked and drove quite slowly. To my delight, I saw two people exit one caravan and cross over to the largest of the three, and they were both women. How old or what they looked like I could not tell from a brief view of their backs, I just knew from their clothing and hair and movement that they were women. Anyway, if they were illegals and looking for work, they were much more likely to be young. I drove home trying to remember where I'd dumped the binoculars.

Next day I resumed my bird watching activities. Parking at the church was safe due to the ongoing national decline in church attendance. The local vicar now had responsibilities for five parishes and five churches, so I'd never yet seen him or anyone else there. There was a service but only about once a month other than Christmas and Easter.

I made three trips that week, slowly walking past the site twice on each outing. I timed it wrong on one occasion and saw no one. The other two outings proved more rewarding. There were at least three men in the large caravan, a couple with a small child in the middle one and I thought three maybe four women in the third and a couple of them seemed quite young looking. One, in particular, had caught my eye. She wore her blonde hair in a long single plait down her back. Tall, broad-shouldered, big build but not fat, athletic looking, not a runner, more of a thrower, javelin maybe rather than shot or discus. Just the right size and shape for a diminutive riders saddle pony!

Well, the right wild pony had been identified. Now how to cut it out from the herd, rope it and bring it home. There were more people resident in total than I had reckoned on. Were they related? Did they all know each other and would anyone who went missing be reported? Were they actually all illegals? Key questions but not ones I could easily obtain an answer too.

Well, there was one way to find out, and I was all equipped to carry out my plan. It was by no means the best plan in the world and would require a degree of luck, but if I could somehow trigger the initial part. If the cards fell my way, then I was confident I could achieve my goal. I drove home and spent twenty-four hours in a very thoughtful mood. Fantasy was one thing - but kidnapping, I mean kidnapping for real, not play acting was, well crazy to put it mildly.

I went to bed thinking of the Amazon presumably sound asleep in the caravan just a few miles away. My Amazon, my Beauty, my future ponygirl. I made my mind up and sometime in the early hours finally dropped off into a trouble-filled sleep whereby I seemed to be continually running down dark country lanes pursued by giant ponygirls dressed in police uniforms.

Nightmares aside my resolve remained unaltered, and I passed a slow day, nervously sipping numerous cups of coffee, forever glancing at the clock, and trying to maintain an aura of calm against my growing feelings of tense anticipation.

I returned after it became dark and then using an old second-hand cell phone plus a prepaid SIM card I called the farm. A woman answered so I asked if I could speak to a Mister Thomas Granger. There was a silence and a sound as though the phone had been put down carefully. I waited until a male voice said hello in a not very friendly tone.

\"Hello, hello, is Mr Granger?\" I asked in a badly accented voice.

\"What do you want, who wants me?\"

\"Is Klara from Poland, you don't know me but I been working some nights down at Fox and Hounds in Little Topping, barmaid and washer of dishes\".

\"So what?\" he snorted angrily.

\"So what is Immigration people\" I hissed. \"They coming to see you maybe tonight.\"

There was a pause then, \"Shit! How do you know that? Where are you? Why are you calling me?\"

\"I outside pub on cell phone. They all in pub eating bar meals, I serve, I hear talk. Two womens and three men. Big van and car outside. I hear they come to you, know about people there, I no like, I once big problem with immigration border peoples. They say Grange Farm on Church street, I look yellow pages so give warning try help peoples like me have no big problems. I go now bye bye\".

I cut the call off. Five out of ten I thought to myself, gawd I probably sounded more like a Mrs Ravi at the post office than an East European!

I had parked off the road in the sparsely grassed and gravelled entrance to a field just around a corner from the site I was watching. I got out of my car and walked a little nearer taking good care to remain in the additional darkness provided by the gloom of the trees. I doubted if any traffic would be about, the road was hardly used during the day let alone later, and I could easily melt out of sight should I spot any approaching lights. I had no doubts now that at least some of the occupants across the road were illegal but would farmer Granger panic? Was he indeed as weak as a piece of wet loo paper and if so, would he take action tonight?

Just as I had suspected, it wasn't long before I saw lights and heard a vehicle on the other side of the rickety hedge row. Raised voices and shouts, angry voices, a child was screaming, there was the sound of a heavy smack, and then it yelled even louder now joined by a wailing woman and more voices raised in argument. Another voice bellowed \"quiet, quiet the lot of you, do as I tell ya\". The sounds subsided into a babble of muted protests. A series of bangs and slams followed as doors were opened and closed noisily. I approached closer to risk a peep.

A large four-wheel-drive vehicle was parked there. People were throwing things hastily into the open rear, bags, suitcases a child's buggy. A large man in shirt sleeves despite the cold was saying something to a small group of people, emphasising points by frequently smacking his clenched right fist against his open left palm. I heard snatches of conversation, \"safe place, before they get here, bound to come soon, tomorrow first thing, can't risk it again, be better off there.\" The man had his wallet out now and was passing out notes. His voice trailed off as some agreement was reached. I held my breath, so far so good, now.....

The farmer slammed the rear tail cover of his vehicle shut or tried to. It wouldn't close so with a curse he lifted it again, reached inside and hauled out a medium sized soft bag. He slammed the tail shut and tossed the bag towards the group of watching people. The woman with the small child seized it.

\"Get in, three and three,\" he gestured with a finger. The woman and child complete with bag scrambled into the passenger seat, the four men cramming themselves into the three rear ones. \"It's working\" I breathed to myself. Somehow I'd just known that bully could be panicked into action and that things would pan out just like this. How I knew, well don't ask. Call it feminine intuition if you want. I did know that there had only ever seemed to be one road vehicle on his farm and he was the only person I had ever seen driving it.

The farmer looked at his wristwatch, tapped it and said something to the four watching women. He touched his watch again as if emphasising a point then strode purposely to his vehicle, started it, and hastily drove off. I waited quietly, and moments later it emerged onto the road and turned away from where I lurked driving off quickly in the opposite direction.

I stayed still and silent in the dark. This was it; this was where I crossed my Rubicon or did I? Did I have the courage to carry on? I could go back to my car, drive home, go back to being little miss average and ordinary. I'd done nothing wrong, just made a prank phone call that's all. Back to my humdrum existence, back to the pink vibrator and internet fantasies. Back to being an honest woman, not a sadistic sick pervert!

The moment passed. Where was the fun in that? Just over that hedge was my 'Beauty', my very own wild ponygirl and all I had to do was go and fetch her. There might not, probably, indeed maybe certainly would never be a similar chance. I was ready; all was ready, my equipment was all to hand as was the moment. Heart pounding, I walked quickly back to my car.

I turned left after entering the farm gates. I knew the way from google maps; the dirt track was rougher than I'd allowed for but passable. Thank goodness there had been no heavy rain recently otherwise I might have had problems. Getting bogged down was not part of my planning nor had I prepared an adequate excuse should that happen. As I bounced and lurched toward the lighted caravans a sentence, I'd once read in a book came to mind. 'It was always the little things, the ones you never considered that went wrong'. There was truth in that.

I reached the firmer ground and performed a three-point turn. The four women came out of their van looking somewhat wary as they realised it was a stranger. I eyed them up quickly. My Beauty was there standing even taller than I had thought her, she towered over a smaller, younger-looking petite dark-haired girl who leaned into her as if seeking protection. The other two were not worthy of my interest. One was much older, middle-aged, lined face and very tired looking, shoulders drooping and unlikely to be very fit. Not very attractive and certain to sag somewhat in the haunches and udder departments. I wanted an animal that would be pleasing to the eye not a tired out old candidate for the knackers yard.

The other girl was, well quite fat, certainly not obese but had clearly patronised too many fast food outlets on a frequent basis. Nor was she very tall. At a pinch, rigorously exercised and slimmed down, maybe a second-rate cart puller only. Not very easy on the eye either. Plain, spotty, and decidedly dumpy. Not a keeper!

It ran through my mind even as I spoke that I was becoming an expert 'stock woman'. \"Anyone speak English,\" I asked in a crisp voice.

My Beauty nodded. \"Please, I do a little\". Somehow I knew it would be her that answered, out of all of them I sensed that she was the most intelligent.

\"Please what is...\"

\"No time\" I barked. \"Mr Granger sent me; I held up my cell phone. \"Immigration people on their way, no time for talk. I need to take one to my house now....no; please don't argue. I will remove boxes and come back for one, two three\". I pointed at them.

The boxes stacked in the rear seats of my little car were yet another facet of my careful planning. There was only room for one person in the vehicle, in the passenger seat and I had doctored that seat belt with a couple of DIY alterations.

\"You\", I pointed to Beauty, \"get your bags and get in, quickly now\".

The girl shook her head and pointed to the older woman. Oh god, I thought, don't tell me it's all about to go pear-shaped! Up to this point, I had felt confident and in charge of the situation. Doubts began to hit me, could I actually carry this off, how long had I got?

\"No\", I shouted genuinely angry and stamped my foot. \"You, I want someone who can speak English first\", I pointed at Beauty.

The girl shook her head again; she gestured with her right hand across her body at the smaller girl and at the same time put her left arm protectively around her and hugged her close to her.

\"No, I only go with my girlfriend\".

I stared hard for a second. No, yes, I was a woman, I sensed it. They were lesbians! When Beauty said girlfriend, she meant it and not in a 'bestie' type way. My mind raced, how to handle this, could I handle the situation. I reacted virtually without thinking.

\"Alright, get in\" I gestured to my small car, and added, \"wait, go get your bags. Bags \", I repeated and mimed picking up a suitcase in each hand.

As they disappeared, I opened a rear door, pushed, and pummeled at the assorted cardboard boxes stacked there and cleared the seat behind the passenger one. They were all empty, so it wasn't difficult. I left the door open and opened the boot just as the two girls came up. They had one sizeable soft holdall each of them grasping a handle while clutching another smaller bag and shoulder bag each. I grabbed the big holdall and crammed it into my small boot space. There was another bag in there with a drawstring closure which I moved out of the way I wanted that one on top, and I definitely did not want anyone looking inside. I grabbed one of the smaller bags from the petite dark-haired girl, stuffed that in one side and added my bag to the other before slamming the boot closed.

\"Inside quick\" I panted \"no you bigger in front, keep the bag on lap\" I gestured to my midriff as Beauty made to open the passenger door for her friend. \"You there\" I gestured and waited till the smaller girl squeezed herself into the space that I had cleared before slamming the door.

Beauty was in her seat with the door closed as I got into the driver's seat.

\"You wait, ten minutes\" I called to the other two women, tapping my wristwatch and holding up my fingers and thumbs. \"Seatbelt please\" I gestured to Beauty.

\"Is stuck\".

She had been vainly pulling at it and continued to tug at the unyielding webbing. I reached over, grabbed the metal fastening, pushed the bag on her lap forwards with my elbow and pulled hard. She yelled a little as the tight strap forced her backwards hard up against the seat back, belt taunt across her waist. I thought for a moment I had got my measurements wrong. It was tight, tighter than I had allowed for but with another firm tug, a wince from her, the fitting slid into the locking slot with a satisfying click. I reached beneath it and pushed home the locking pin that I had fitted. No way the metal tongue was going to come out of the slot without first removing that concealed pin, and that was not going to shift. I knew I'd tried; it had taken me over half an hour to get the damn thing back out from its awkward place. The spring-loaded ball bearings at the end held it very firmly.

\"To tight, too tight\", she moaned fingers scrabbling first at the strap across her chest and then at the locking fitting by her hip. I had started the engine and was moving off. \"Leave it\" I snapped, lifting my hand from the gear lever, and slapping down lightly on hers. \"Only a few minutes\" I added feeling exultant and yet?

It really was only a few minutes to my place, and that posed a problem. My DIY alteration to the seat belt would hopefully hold Beauty captive until more secure arrangements could be applied. However, what to do about her friend in the back? My plans had not allowed for that, and I needed to come up with something fast. She might be a lot smaller than Beauty, but she still topped me by a good couple of inches and having been engaged in physical farm work was going to be both fitter and stronger. Plus, if the pair were lesbians, she'd no doubt fight like a tiger at the first hint of danger to her lover.

I could have driven around aimlessly for a while to give me time to think but options around the area were limited, and there was no way I wanted anyone on the busier roads to see my passengers and me. Besides, I had said only a few minutes, I didn't want them getting alarmed plus my alterations to the seatbelt were a cause for concern as they had been a bit rough and ready. In theory, the release mechanism that fed more of the belt was jammed, and my locking pin held the other end fast...but for how long against a determined struggling person, one who was bigger than I had allowed for?

I glanced sideways as my mind raced. Beauty continued to struggle with the tight seat belt strap. I stole several glances, and the image was delightful, the diagonal strap was stretched taut against her chest She was wearing a tight, ribbed fawn sweater, one of those very clingy ones that conceal but also reveal exciting contours and I found those large shapely mounds that jiggled as she wriggled very interesting. Not just interesting but highly arousing. I began to feel more than a little damp.

A part of my mind had been telling me not to be so bloody stupid, drive to the railway station in the next village, dump them both in the car park and get the hell out of it. However, the more I caught glimpses of those tantalising mounds quivering under that figure-hugging sweater, the faster that thought headed in the direction of my brains equivalent of the emergency exit!

I hit one of the numerous potholes in the poorly maintained road, the car bumped, we all bounced briefly in our seats, but Beauty also squealed and gave an extra-large jiggle. I just happened to be sneaking another quick look and never noticed the 'emergency exit door' opening and shutting as rationality finally fled.

She was no longer strapped beside me in the passenger seat but chained naked other than the gleaming black harness I had bound her in, to a post in my stable, squealing in pain, rage, fear, and humiliation as I reached out to fondle and squeeze one of her large udders. No, correction, my udder, they belonged to me now! I mentally salivated at the vision.

I drove straight to my farm. An idea was forming in my mind plus I knew that the tools I would need were readily to hand. \"Nearly there\". I told them as I slowed, flicked on an indicator, and swung through the open gate into my drive the headlamps illuminating the twists, turns and the trees lining the narrow passageway. I drove straight through the open door of the stable and applied the handbrake. Beauty was still banging away at the seatbelt release. I killed the engine and tried to help her.

\"Sorry, looks like it's jammed solid. Wait I will get something to help\". I turned to look at the girl in the back. She was a pretty little thing, short bobbed hair curling inwards, big green eyes and cute full bow lips. She resembled a shorter, dark-haired Taylor Swift a little. Something stirred within me. Something unexpected. Maybe this was a bonus situation in a big way. \"See if you can help her\", I said forgetting that she might not understand me, but I did wave my hand towards her girlfriend.

I got out, retrieved my drawstring bag from the boot, rummaged around on my tool bench then collected a couple more items from a drawer containing some of my more specialised equipment. When I returned to the car young cutie lips was out of the vehicle pulling at the top of the passenger seat belt. I hoped it would hold. It did for she gave that up, leaned into the car across Beauty and also started to struggle with the release mechanism. That's what I had anticipated and was ready for. It was far too easy this 'capture' business. Who needed stun guns, needles and chloroform anyway.

I pulled a pair of leg irons from my bag, bent down and quickly locked each one around her ankles just above her trainers. They had a simple ratchet fastening mechanism. Click, push to the required tightness and then they could only be loosened and released with a special key. A length of chain ran between them allowing a limited amount of movement. It only took a moment. Beauty had not even seen me doing it, but cutie lips had felt it. She suddenly squealed and made to back out.

I reached down grabbed the chain between her ankles and yanked hard backwards and upwards. There was another squeal, two squeals in fact as Beauty saw but probably didn't realise what I was doing. Cutie lips had slipped two-thirds of the way out of the car just her chest and head on Beauties lap. I yanked hard again and let go as she thumped heavily face down on to the ground. In another quick motion, I slipped a handcuff bracelet around her right wrist as she sought to push herself up. It was then easy-peasy to half kneel on her back drag her right wrist across to the centre of her back where her left hand was helpfully groping blindly. Click, and she was secure.

Secure, never again to enjoy the sort of freedom of her old life. Mine for now and forever even if she was being very noisy about it. Screaming and shouting in some unintelligible language, although I did understand the odd English swear word. I might have to wash the little bitches mouth out if she talked like that! Amazing how foreigners always seemed to pick up the very worst elements of our vocabulary before anything else?

Beauty was also shouting at me. She too had lapsed into her native language, and this was no time to relax. She was thrashing around frantically, and I could see that it wouldn't be long before something gave. The job was only half done, less than half done because if she got loose being so much bigger and stronger, then I really would be in trouble. Suppose that happened and I was the one lying helpless on the dirt floor, and they rummaged around and discovered all my other 'toys'!

I pulled a craft knife out of my pocket, one of those with portioned sliding blades that you can break pieces off to keep the end sharp. I slid the blade out with my thumb and held it in front of her eyes. \"Shut up\" I shouted. \"Shut up and stay still\".

She froze, eyes fearfully fixed on the sharp blade only a few inches away. A sort of whimper escaped her. I was exultant; I sensed the fight had gone out of her for the moment. It would return, I'd be very disappointed if it didn't, anyway I was sure the plans I had in store for her would soon rekindle that fighting spirit. What human being wants to be turned into an animal at the end of a whip?

I waggled the knife. \"Do as I say, and you won't get hurt?\" I told her. Well, not just yet I told myself. \"Hold your hands out in front\". I thought for a moment she was going to resist. She half shook her head then still looking with frightened eyes at me and back to the knife did as I ordered. Using one hand, knife now held against her throat I snapped another pair of cuffs on her then crouched down and a pair of leg irons soon decorated her ankles as well. Good job I had invested plenty of money and not been miserly with the number of my purchases.

I stepped back with a massive sigh of relief. I was shaking, really shaking. I felt faint, weak and light headed. I'd done it. Really done it. Actually, really gone and damn well done it and not just with one, I'd got two of the bitches!

As I calmed down a little, I became conscious of a couple of things. One, that familiar sensation between my legs. I was suddenly aware that I was aroused, really aroused, hot and wet and it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge. The urge to plunge my fingers into my pants was almost irresistible. I did resist it though. The other thing I now realised was that cutie lips was still screaming her damn head off! She must have been doing it all the while, but I'd been too engrossed to notice. I did now though. Her voice was cracking; she must have nearly screamed herself hoarse. Good job I had no neighbours. I lashed out with a foot. \"Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch\". I kicked her twice more. \"Quiet\".

She got the message and subsided into a spate of gasping whimpers. I went back to one of my equipment draws and found what I wanted. A pair of bright red ball gags, one still sealed in its crinkly plastic packaging. Unique, expensive ball gags that would allow various attachments to be fastened or inserted. They would shut the bitches up, and they might as well get used to them. They'd be spending a lot of time wearing them or something similar for me.

Cutie lips wasn't too cooperative, but you eventually have to open your mouth if someone is pinching your nostrils closed. In it popped with a bit of forcing and the strap quickly fastened. She had beautiful even white teeth, small and dainty looking and healthy pink gums; I ran my finger around them purely to enjoy the sheer delight in touching my new possession. Oh, what fun we were going to have. Well, I was.

Beauty wanted to talk or rather argue and threaten. I listened to the tirade in broken English for all of fifteen seconds or so and then got bored of it. Nothing had registered anyway; I was too wound up and tense to pay any attention to that babble. I just grabbed her by the back of the neck offered the gag up to her mouth and pushed it home. I must have caught her lip as she was bleeding very slightly from the corner of her mouth after I'd finished securing the strap. I noticed that she didn't have gleaming white teeth, hers were larger, more yellow, and stank of tobacco. Well, that's something she's just given up, period!

I was exhausted, utterly exhausted. I felt weak at the knees. I needed to go and sit down for a minute or two, maybe even get a coffee. I looked at my captives. Neither was going anywhere but just to be on the safe side, I dragged out a length of heavy chain. I ran it around a stout post, secured it with a large padlock and the used two more locks to fasten the two ends, one to each chain on the leg irons.

Two wild fillies hunted, roped, captured, and delivered. I went for my coffee not forgetting to close the stable door and set the security alarm. Might as well get used to it. I headed for the kitchen thoughtfully. Did I really need two ponies? Cutie lips certainly wasn't big enough to ride, and I didn't have a cart to harness her too nor did I have anywhere to run her if I had one. What about a show pony? Trouble was I would never have access to any venue to display her and once trained maybe I might get bored. Perhaps then something else? Well, I had plenty of time now to think about it, and it was an interesting problem to have. She was rather cute. I put my knife down on the countertop. Probably going to need it shortly to slash the passenger seat belt webbing to release Beauty. Wonder how I will explain that to the garage I mused humming happily to myself as I reached for the electric kettle.

Chapter 4 - Contemplation on an idea

I sipped my coffee and nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie. It was probably going to be a long evening. I needed to get Beauty out of the car and secured in her stall. Maybe? No need to do anything else. I wanted to be fresh and to have plenty of time to enjoy grooming and dressing her in harness for the first time. That could wait till tomorrow when I had the leisure to take my time fully savouring the restrictions I would bind her in. No doubt some of my more corporal toys would also get their first chance to play. I shivered in delightful anticipation. Oh, how she was going to squeal and dance for me.

But what about the addition? Little miss cutie pie the clit licker. I bet she was the fem in that little setup. I think I already knew in part the answer to that question. I was even a little shocked at myself, but she was adorable and such beautiful white teeth and pink gums and almost certainly a nice pink tongue. I could not spend all my time in the stable so wouldn't it also be nice to be able to play indoors as well?

Suddenly my life was going to get very interesting and very entertaining. All my Christmas's coming at once and with a completely unexpected bonus present. My fingers were reaching between my legs even as I mused. I bet little miss cutie has a nice pert white little bum. Beauty gets the stable cane, and her face in a bucket of mush and little miss cutie receives the paddle on her bum and her head between my legs, and I'll bet she even knows what to do. Well if not she'll soon learn and so will I!

I resisted the delicious urge to probe further with my fingers. Those days might well be over now I had a possible alternative available, and my little pink vibrators might still get a bit of use but rarely on me and to tease rather than satisfy. Anyway, I still had work to do and a decision to make. I already knew what was intended for Beauty and there would be no deviations. No change of plan and above all no mercy shown. Her fate was already sealed, I had wanted a pony, and that's what she would be by tomorrow evening and would remain so for as far into the future as I could imagine.

Little cutie, well a sort of idea was beginning to form. I needed to think upon it a bit, well for perhaps more than a bit and I needed to see a whole lot more of her than I had so far. I also wanted to have a look through the bags they'd brought with them. I might need to do a bit more research via the internet as well, but I was an expert now at that.

I sipped more of my coffee and then as Raven was frisking around being more than a little demanding and tiresome I fed him with double rations to keep him happy. I was too tired to take him out for our customary evening walk down the lane, so he could have a run around the grounds instead in a minute.

It was, how to explain it? Well, sort of strange. I sat there quietly in comfort with my mug of cheap instant coffee calmly surveying my living room with all its usual accumulated clutter. Discarded clothes that should have been placed in the laundry bin, books big and small, assorted scattered shoes and boots in singles and pairs, abandoned dog toys, various household bills and other pieces of paper haphazardly arranged on my computer desk. Raven, appetite now partially sated was noisily shoving his heavy feeding bowl around the floor with his nose trying to see if there was anything edible underneath, his tail wagging back and forth frantically as usual. It was normal all so very normal and yet, my thought drifted out to the stable...surreal!

A peculiar sense of calm came over me as I tried to analyse just how I felt. Did I feel anything? Did I feel any different at all? Was I fearful or anxious in any way? Did I feel a sense of guilt at what I had just done and what I would soon be doing? The answer to each question quite honestly was no. No, I did not feel anything other than a growing sense of anticipation and excitement.

Did that make me a monster I wondered as I slowly drank my coffee? I hadn't suddenly grown two heads or sharp fangs, I was still me, or was I? I clicked my tongue and held my hand out as Raven bounded hopefully over to lick my fingers. \"Good doggie.\" I patted him on the head, \"Good boy\". Well, at least I had one friend who thought I was just the same.

Surreal was the word that constantly drifted in and out of my thoughts as I sat there. I was sitting here comfortably almost but not quite like any other evening, but out there, in the stable? I had just kidnapped two young women, two human beings who up till a half hour or so ago had been entirely free individuals. They had family, friends, hopes, and dreams, ambitions and much much more and now...now I had them tied up and helpless in my old stable fearfully awaiting my return with no idea of what was in store for them. Were they terrified, almost certainly, I knew I would have been if the tables were turned?

My coffee was almost finished. Well, the tables were not going to turn, ever. That was one realisation that was dawning on me. I suppose it was one aspect I had not wholly thought though caught up as I was in all my erotic internet images and stories. I now had two unwilling 'guests', no prisoners and they were both lifers. I had kidnapped them, really kidnapped them! I could go out there and let them go, somehow apologise, try and pass everything off as a silly joke gone wrong, laugh, say sorry big mistake, and walk away from it somehow.

No, I told myself I would not do that. The three of us would soon be bound together for the rest of our lives. Literally bound in their case. There would be no turning back once I started, couldn't be. I was about to become a ruthless, sadistic pervert of the worst kind. I was going to do things to those poor girls that any normal sane person would find utterly repugnant.

I drained the final drops of coffee. Was I really that sick? Did I feel that sick? Did I feel my sanity slowly slipping away? No, I didn't. I was still me I had not changed. I could imagine how the media would portray me if I were ever caught, how people would view me and feel about me, but did I care? No. In a short while, tomorrow perhaps, I was going to start torturing those girls, I was going to bind them tightly, whip them, force objects into them to violate their most private parts and all the while listening to them screaming for my pleasure.

I rose from my chair and went to the kitchen pausing to place my empty mug in the plastic washing up bowl. Time to start playing with my animals. I was human they were not and that in my mind was now the difference. I didn't expect the judge or jury to understand that, but I did, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter 5 - Safe and secure

It was growing late and decidedly chilly when I returned to the stables. I switched the electric heating on, it would be expensive, but worth it, I didn't want the occupants going down with flu or something similar. Illness was a bridge we'd have to cross if or when it cropped up.

Cutie was covered in dust as though she had been rolling around on the dirt floor trying to free herself. She hadn't of course, and all she'd achieved was to get herself rather filthy. She glared at me angrily through moist, hate-filled eyes. She truly was cute, more so with that dirt-streaked face. My fingers positively ached to open that little package and see what I now owned. Owned what a delightful feeling.

Business before pleasure though as they say and first things first. I removed the craft knife from my pocket and went over to my car. \"Oh, stop that\" I snapped as Beauty flinched away or at least tried to. I extended the blade an inch or so and began to saw through the seat belt webbing. It proved an easier task than I had anticipated and soon parted allowing Beauty to fall forwards in the seat. I thumbed the blade back into the handle and replaced the knife in my pocket making a mental note to myself, never leave things like that loosely laying around. No point in spending a fortune on security if you then got careless with a cheap throwaway knife! I picked up the half-empty holdall she's carried from around her feet and casually tossed it over against one of the vacant stalls.

I unlocked the padlock that secured the long chain to the shorter one and grabbed her ankle chain pulling her legs towards the car door. Beauty was shaking her head from side to side quite violently and twisting her upper body around as if that would somehow help her.

I sighed. I didn't have time for this, I wanted her out of the car and quickly with minimum fuss. I did not want a fight. I was tired, weary and not in the mood. Any humanity that remained within me about this situation was fast ebbing away and unlikely ever to return. I had wanted to savour the moment when I punished her for the first time. That sorta went out of the window.

I grabbed her firmly by that thick long blonde mane, yanked her head around and then delivered a stinging slap to her left cheek. Well, it stung me, so I guess it must have been far worse for her. \"Out\", I roared, striking her again and then bracing myself, heaved her bodily out of the seat and let her drop to the ground.

\"Still\", I barked as she made to roll around and emphasised my command with the toe end of my booted foot in her ribs hard enough to draw forth another muffled squeal of pain, protest and probably rage.

I was exceedingly tired; maybe it was the adrenaline rush fading away now I was on the home straight. I must have been way more hyped up than I had realised. I felt bone-weary also a little dizzy and light-headed, even a touch nauseous. Not ill but just in desperate need of my bed. I also recognised the unwelcome signs of a migraine attack hovering on the horizon. A glass of milk, a couple of aspirin and a few hours' sleep in a dark room and I would be GTG as my online guild mates might say!

First things first though. I needed to sleep with a clear conscience. 'Whoops', the wrong word probably never will have a clear conscience again I mused as I looked down at my two helpless captives. Not secure enough though for my peace of mind, especially Beauty whose hand remained cuffed in front of her.

I went over to Cutie Lips, rolled her half over so I could check her cuffs, they were okay, but there was enough play in them to click up another notch without damaging her. Her leg irons also went up another notch and the chain securing her to the post was secure. I still wasn't going to take any chances, not on the first night, belt and braces time.

A few minutes later I had added a couple of heavy-duty two-inch-wide leather harness straps. One just above the knees and pulled tight, the second longer one wrapped around the upper torso just below the bust line to keep both arms tight up against her back. Not exactly a proper 'reverse prayer' but still not very comfortable but it wouldn't restrict her circulation. I ignored the sounds emerging from behind her gag as I tugged the straps tight with the aid of the roller buckles.

As a final consideration I pulled a couple of decomposing foam mattresses out from a corner of the stable, they smelt quite vile and what remained of their original coverings was obscured by an unpleasant combination of stains and dank mould. They had been an afterthought to my stable and equipment preparations. I'd taken my final load of junk down to the skips at the local recycling depot and spotted them. A couple of pounds had changed hands with a bald old man in a yellow safety jacket, not sure that he believed my improbable story as to why I wanted them for my dogs, but I had half envisaged the possibility of the present situation. I'd only wanted one at the time, but he bargained better than me!

I almost giggled to myself as I heaved Cutie onto her 'deluxe' berth for the night. Technically I suppose I wasn't all that kind and considerate considering the sort of future activities I had planned. 'Comfort' was not going to be a regular feature of these animal lives. I didn't want them doing any lasting damage to themselves, not on the first night, not till I got them secure properly. The 'damage' would commence on the morrow, and I would be the one to instigate it.

Beauty received similar treatment, but I took the additional precaution of using my knife again once I'd got her face down on the filthy rank smelling mattress. I half knelt on her back and pulled her head back, the flat blade of the knife at her throat. I told her that I was going to free one of her hands and she had better put it behind her back if she wanted to keep breathing.

\"I only need one of you\", I hissed in her ear \"So if I get any trouble I might get rid of the spare\". I grabbed a handful of blonde mane and gave it a savage twist. \"Comprehend?\". Maybe the wrong word to use given English wasn't her primary language, but I think she had already gotten the point.

I felt her throat move under the flat of the knife blade as she gave a great gulp and tried to nod while muffled whimpering sounds came from behind the gag. As soon as one hand was free, she obeyed and obediently held them behind her back. Silly bitch. I shuffled backwards slightly, perched astride her big bum, grabbed the uncuffed wrist and secured it to the cuffed one. Last chance gone I thought to myself. I squeezed the warm body with my knees, nice, can't wait till I do this when she's up on her hoofs and I am on her back.

I repeated the same routine with the straps and checked her chain. It needed shortening a little; I did not want them able to get too close in the night either to try and help each other or for mutual comfort. I was unquestionably ready to call it a day, but there was one last thing to do.

Back to one of my 'toy' drawers and ripped open another cellophane wrapped rectangular box. I suppose for hygiene reasons I ought to have thoroughly washed the enclosed plastic water bottle out before using it. I couldn't be bothered. I gave it a quick rinse under the cold tap then filled it two thirds full and screwed on the cap with a curved narrow metal drinking tube.

My first attempt at force feeding or in this case forced drinking didn't go at all well. I hooked a fingernail in the notch at the front of the ball gags, flipped up the small round cover and forced the tube through and into Cuties mouth. Didn't want the animals dying of dehydration on the first night! There was an awful lot of choking, spluttering and so forth. I wasn't at all versed in this nor were they. I got wet, and so did they. I ended up taking the simple route by briefly loosening the gag straps, pinching nostrils, and tipping water down their throats so that they had to swallow.

I also found their attempts to talk highly annoying. Well, that was one irritation I would start correcting on the morrow. Once I was satisfied that both my animals had been sufficiently watered, I popped the red ball gags back in. No doubt most of the liquid would come out overnight, in fact, my nose told me that Cutie had already loosed an embarrassing dribble and maybe something else. Embarrassment was something to which she and her friend would become accustomed. I had not gone to the additional expense of adding a lavatory to my stable so like any other barn animal they would learn to go in the dirt!

I looked down at my two 'wrapped' packages. They both glared back at me through frightened yet angry moist eyes as tears left wet streaks down the sides of their faces. They wriggled slightly attempting to find a comfortable position, and I thought I could heap whimpers escaping from behind the bright red balls stretching their mouths. I wondered for a moment, did they have any idea about what was going to happen to them?

Rape that was probably the worst they could envisage. By me? Hell, they might even enjoy that. Yes, I would rape them with my toys but worse I would violate not only their bodies but more importantly their minds as well. They had no idea!

I had a last check of all the restraints, probably overkill I thought. A last look round. Lights on or off I mused for a second. Off, I flicked the switch. Two sets of frightened but very distinct muffled squeals sounded in the darkness. I smiled, exited the building and set the alarm. Mission Impossible accomplished.

Chapter 6 - A second idea

I slept extremely well. I'd given poor Raven a quick run around the stable yard, a very quick run much to his displeasure then headed straight for my bed and slept like the proverbial log. Usually, I am a relatively light sleeper, but on this occasion, I had 'zonked' and built up a huge stack of Z's.

Usually, I don't bother to set my alarm clock; my body clock is good enough to wake me most days and anyway the wretched thing is far too loud and persistent. Cheap oriental technology at its fiendish worst! I awoke in an instant the moment it went off to jarringly interrupt my ever so beautiful slumber. I yawned, reached over to try and hit the snooze button and was about to roll over, then froze. Shit! I sat bolt upright as just for one second, I panicked. A moment of complete stomach-churning panic. In an instant, everything that had happened the previous evening flashed across my mind. The girls, the stable, kidnap......the authorities, police, arrest....... what?

I banged my hand down on the device silencing its clamour and took a deep breath. No, there was no siren blaring, no thundering knocks upon my front door, no jarring crash as booted feet kicked it open, no blue uniformed intruders pounding up the staircase. Nothing but the sound of my heavy breathing and from downstairs, Raven scratching urgently at the kitchen door wanting either his breakfast or to go out, probably both.

I leapt out of bed and crossed to a monitor cum tv on my bedroom wall. A steady green light told me that nobody had tried to open the stable door since I had set the alarm. The main image showed an infrared picture of two human forms still stretched out on the floor, both obviously still alive although of course there was no reason why they shouldn't be. I should have added a few more refinements I thought, the ability to remotely control the lights and then I could switch to visual mode. Oh well, maybe a future improvement.

It was still early and dark outside, but I was fully awake now and eager for the fun to begin. My fun anyway. I didn't intend to rush it though. This first day would be unique, after that it would become more routine. Perhaps routine was not quite what I meant but the days would become somewhat similar and monotonous for those two animals waiting out there, and that first element of terrified surprise would have gone as the long-term realisation of their terrible predicament slowly dawned upon them.

How many times had I fantasised about this, read so many wicked non-consensual stories, viewed the many internet kinky internet images and soon I would be doing the very same things I'd dreamed of doing to my own helpless and utterly non-consenting victim or victims I quickly reminded myself. Victims! I hugged myself, two of the little dears, well one little and one not so little.

I composed myself. I was hot again, very hot but now was not the time. I was going to have one humongous orgasm later in the day followed by a whole series more almost as big but that was for later. I needed to prepare myself. First impressions are important, and mine would last for the rest of their miserable lives.

That was a long time I reflected. It was a sobering thought then I suddenly giggled. 'Well, have to live with it now, can't exactly sell em both on eBay in six months' time can I'?

They say familiarity breeds contempt, and that is true. Just a few hours ago I had done something evil, totally mindbogglingly terrible and unforgivable but already it almost felt quite normal. Weird! I felt no regrets, no qualms, no misgivings whatsoever. Those two creatures in the stable belonged to me and me alone. They were as much mine as was my dog the only difference being I was likely to be a whole lot kinder to him.

I stripped off my warm, comfortable jimjams and went for a hot shower. I couldn't help contrasting my situation with theirs. Here I was all warm and cosy and of course completely free, enjoying a gentle spray of hot water. I would emerge clean and fresh while they lay terrified in their own stinking animal odours. God, I was enjoying this, I really must be a vile sadist! Did I care? No, I didn't. Not one jot.

I was never one for makeup other than the basics when needed. I didn't regularly put on an 'Instagram' selfie face. However, I wanted to look my best. There would be plenty of times when they would see me in the raw, in more way than one but today was special. I wasn't going to go over the top though. Foundation, a smattering of mascara, eyebrow pencil, lined pink lips, etc. I looked good I thought perusing my reflection a little while later in the vanity table mirror. Maybe they'll even take a fancy to me, but not for long I suspect, not once the cane begins to bite and they begin to howl!

A shiver ran through me. Oh god, I could hardly wait. Oh, how I wanted to hear screams and pleas for mercy, how I wanted to see my helpless victim singing and dancing to my tune, to see those cruel raised red stripes on lily-white flesh. Hmm, well they had both looked a bit sun-browned! Oh well, maybe the main target areas would be lily white, anyway who cared, tanned or white, the effect of the stripe would still be the same and just as pleasing to my eyes.

I chose my outfit with equal care. A dash of scent here and there and then I dressed. Tight fitting beige riding breeches, pristine white sleeveless blouse complimented by a narrow black bandana around my neck. A glossy two-inch wide black leather belt and a pair of expensive knee-high kitten heeled tan leather boots. I also tucked a pair of thin black leather gloves into my belt. Sexy yet sadistic was the image I was aiming for and looking in my full-length mirror I was almost satisfied.

I went back and used the perfume spray a bit more extravagantly. Poo! A whole lot too much but never mind. I wasn't about to attend a mother's union meeting at the church hall. I was going to lord it over the two filthy, smelly animals in the stable, my animals and this was but another string to my bow as they started to learn their place in the new pecking order.

I made an instant coffee, fed Raven who promptly gulped his food down at his usual ferocious speed and when no more was forthcoming, resumed one of his favourite activities, humping the rectangular leather pouffe in my lounge cum utility room. I gave him the usual casual soft kick. \"Off\" I shouted. He was young and active, and I had not had him seen to yet, he did tend to make a somewhat sticky and unpleasant mess sometimes on one end of it if left unchecked. He was big and strong and still growing. Too big really for little me to handle and the vet had said he would get worse and harder to control if he didn't get neutered soon. He needed the opp to calm him down unless of course, I found a bitch for him!

I froze. Another idea had struck me. No, no I couldn't. That really would be too cruel, too horrible, but then again why not. I'd gone to bed with a tentative idea forming about little miss cutie the previous night. Could she become a sort of 'human lap dog' following me around leashed and made to crawl to heel on all fours? I'd got my pony so why not add a sweet little poodle like bitch to the collection for my entertainment and amusement? She could even sleep in a basket in my bedroom! I took a sip of coffee and eyed the leather pouffe speculatively. I was only kinda contemplating using one end of her for personal use, the other apart from receiving the paddle, cane and dildo would be sort of spare wouldn't it?

I crossed over to my PC and booted it up while reflectively sipping my coffee. A few clicks of the mouse and my 'pet girl' folder opened followed by my puppy folder. I browsed through various images that had always excited me. Next to ponygirls, puppy girls had been my next best favourite. I was never terribly attracted to the big udder hucow type pictures and stories or any other types of animals. As always, I soon became hot and wet and once again had to resist scrabbling at my panties. Plenty of time for that later when it was time to play for real.

I was amazed at how calm I was considering what awaited me in the stable building. Why was I not rushing over there to 'play' with my new toys? Well, I was not in a hurry, there was plenty of time, they weren't going, anywhere were they?

There it was. 'Penny the puppy girl series. The little bitch on a leash being taken for a walk by her mistress, part naked, waddling along on knee and elbow paws with her legs and arms doubled up and helpless. She was cute with her short hair tied in two bunches with pink ribbons high on her head, so they flopped down either side almost like droopy dog ears. I had a good collection of 'Penny' art.

Poor Penny was always pictured trapped near naked or inside her doggie costume, an intricate figure-hugging furry suit that covered her from head to foot leaving only her face, breasts, cunt and buttocks exposed. A cute stubby little puppy tail emerged from her anus which she was forced to wag from time to time indicated by clever little lines on the artwork as she wiggled her bottom.

I clicked through them. Penny is squatting to relieve herself. Penny with a well-reddened backside. Penny is fetching the ball or the stick. Penny getting the cane across her rump from the Mistress's young daughter. Penny head down in her pink bowl with the big P on it gobbling up her doggie food. Penny looking mournful chained outside for the night in her pink kennel. Penny with tongue lolling out about to get busy in the bushy mound between her Mistress's spread legs.

Then I found the images I was seeking. The Penny and Butch pictures. Penny, the puppy girl, lived in her kennel outside. Butch, the great big real dog, had a comfy basket by the fire inside. Penny lived on canned dog food and biscuits. Butch lived on steak, chicken and other tasty treats. Penny frequently got whipped and beaten. Butch got cuddled and cossetted. Penny was always on a leash or restrained in some fashion. Butch was free to roam and come and go as he pleased.

I'd never been too keen on the Penny and Butch ones being more interested in Penny and her female owners, but I now looked at them anew. Butch was often vigorously humping poor Penny. Well, certainly being more than humped judging by the artistic movement lines she was being well and truly deep fucked! Penny was being bound across a low padded bench by her Mistress. Butch was sniffing at her rear his tails wagging in excitement. The young daughter stood nearby, cane in hand, a delighted, yet malicious look on her face as she gleeful waited to see Penny serviced by her canine lover.

My fingers crept downwards again as I looked at the expression of horror drawn so cleverly on Penny the Puppy dogs face. Gosh, this was vile, cruel and degrading but oh so sexy in a hideously fascinating way if you weren't Penny of course.

I turned and looked first at my leather pouffe and then eyed the hovering Raven speculatively. He was already a big, heavy dog and still growing. Young and vigorous. I wondered how big he was down there and was it even practical to make him do that or would he merely do it off his own back if suitably aroused?

I'd read stories, but they invariably had sprays and scents of bitch dogs in heat to excite the males. Did such things exist? How did dog breeders go about it? I foresaw a whole new line of internet research beckoning for me and could you get a high-quality puppy suit like that anywhere?

I clicked through the folder until I found another image, a one-off black and white drawing. It depicted a grossly fat wrinkled old woman in a transparent nightgown with the hem pulled up to her waist. She lay back relaxing at her ease on a long divan, legs apart, a long slender rod gripped in one hand the other holding a leash linked to the neck of the young blonde face down between her widespread plump thighs. The slaves back looked well marked from the rod, but that was least of her problems. Just as she serviced her mistress, a colossal drooling mastiff was behind and gripping her tightly with its front paws as it serviced her. The drawing was titled 'flogged and knotted'.

As I looked at the monitor, a delicious spasm shook me. Oh my god, to have the power to do that to another woman. How humiliating, how sickening, how absolutely gross, both ends at once, what she must think and feel? I shuddered even at the thought of it. Yet, how thrilling, how divine to have that sort of power over the cute little bitch. Just one simple click of my fingers and she would be there ready to satisfy me and to service her canine master, after a modicum of training of course!

I'd made my decision. Beauties fate had been decided a long time ago by that first ponygirl piece of artwork. Another might have just determined that of the spare. I was judge, jury and executioner and felt no guilt or conscience. Just like the young girl in the Penny drawing, I would watch with gleeful delight, and maybe Raven would calm down a bit more if he could shoot his seed into the little bitch on a regular basis? That'll make her squeal I bet. Well, she might even get to like it? At least she might have a chance to enjoy the odd orgasm, whereas poor Beauty is going to remain one hundred per cent celibate!

I swallowed the last of my now somewhat tepid coffee, stood up and slid my craft knife into a hip pocket. It was time to switch off the pc and go and play for real.

Chapter 7 - Unwrapping the first package

I unlocked the back door to let the impatient Raven out into the muddy yard for a run around, he never wandered very much, and the road was both quiet and far enough away to be of no concern. It was one of those fine, slightly blustery days with weak but bright sunlight giving everything a golden morning glow.

A few clicks to deactivate the alarm and I opened the door. I made a mental note to try and open it without deactivating it sometime soon. I had not tested it since the initial hand over demonstration with the guys who'd fitted it. Even then I hadn't paid too much attention, one of them was super hunky, and I'd spent two days thinking of a way to broaden our conversations beyond 'how many sugars or would you like a biscuit?\". Last chance and I'd chickened out. Hadn't even changed the original entry code so that was something I needed to attend to if I could find the damn manual. 1234 was probably a touch weak!

Daylight flooded in as I pulled the door open and again, I immediately heard those muffled noises as the two bound forms wriggled and jerked in the dirt. I was also conscious of the smell, unmistakeable, the usual musty smells of the old rarely used building with which I was familiar but now over-ridden by a discernible odour of shit and piss! Not overly strong but certainly noticeable. I immediately got horny again. This was for real.

I must have read at least a dozen books and stories that mentioned the barn or stable odour emanating from helpless human livestock. It had always turned me on, given me a certain cruel thrill; it summed things up. Helpless human animals denied even the privacy and essentials to execute one of humanity's most basic needs comfortably. The poorest most isolated people in Africa and elsewhere no matter how rudimentary their facilities could perform ablutions with far more dignity than the captive beasts in the stories were allowed. I suppose most people would have recoiled but not me. I was no longer in the 'most people' category, and I delighted in the first heady waft of that foul odour.

They were both a mess lying there in their wet stink like a couple of babies helplessly waiting for mummy to come and change them. I noticed that the angry expression in their eyes from the night before had gone, replaced now by a desperate imploring look. Their chins were wet with drool, and long trickles of saliva dripped from their mouths as they mouthed indistinct muffled pleas. Messy animals! Ironically, drooling babies had always made me feel a bit nauseous, but now I felt nothing but excitement as I viewed these two helpless creatures laying on the floor of my stable.

I flicked on the lights and closed the door behind me. I wasn't expecting any visitors, the location was very isolated and visitors quite rare, but I wasn't about to take any chances. I made a second mental note to myself. It might be an idea to get some sort of motion sensor or similar down by my entrance gate. Maybe not even that technical. The old moss-covered wooden gate hadn't shifted from the open position in years being half buried in the undergrowth so why not just get a new double gate fitted with an adjacent bell or buzzer for visitors? Bound to be something in this era of technology that would link to my cell phone? Please ring for servitude...I giggled quietly.

The muffled sounds that had emanated from them had now ceased. They were both looking at me with different expressions now that the main lights were on and their rapidly blinking eyes were adjusting from total darkness to the bright illumination. I got the impression that they were taking in the way I was dressed, what did it mean? I could almost hear two brains processing the information. I decided to hit the 'help' button for them and strutted to one of several shallow wall cabinets I'd fixed along one exterior wall.

Nobody seemed to make suitable cupboards for what I wanted so as with so many things I'd had to improvise. My original intent was to have lots of hooks lining the walls with rows and rows of my wicked punishment and other newly acquired 'toys' hanging ominously from them as an ever-present reminder to my pony of the need for absolute obedience. The disadvantage of course was it did sort of make the stable interior and its sinister purpose somewhat obvious if anyone ever casually stuck their head in. True, my pony would be in there, but she would be enclosed in a stall, bitted, bridled and harnessed and thus silenced and away hidden to a certain extent.

I'd settled for some cabinets with deep drawers and the shallow wall cupboards. Ironically the latter had been designed initially to hold model railroad locomotives and their associated rolling stock for train enthusiasts. I had merely removed the many narrow shelves and added a couple of rows of hooks. I giggled nervously to myself as I opened the nearest one and selected an extra-long swishy riding crop. Probably not quite what the manufactures had in mind! The contrast between storage for an innocent pastime and the wicked, cruel use I'd put them to tickled my sense of humour.

I could feel their eyes on me. There had been an instant double sort of muffled outburst behind me when I opened the cupboard door, and they caught a glimpse of the contents. A sort of incoherent cross between exclamation and groan. It was repeated, louder and with more urgency as I gave the crop a couple of preliminary flourishes.

I turned and with lightning speed, raised the crop and brought it down as hard as I could against the padded leather top of a piece of old furniture stacked nearby against the wall, it whistled and then thudded with loud very satisfying sounds. Satisfying to me but not to the two wild-eyed observers!

I repeated the act, this time observing my two little animals closely. Oh, I think this time they both flinched delightfully as well as trying to squeak. How sweet. How thrilling to have this power.

They watched me in silence now as I approached. I strutted, I swaggered, I sashayed, not easy in just a couple of paces, but I felt I managed it quite well. I felt omnipotent, and I wanted them to know that. Here I was, a petite female but booted and power dressed, clean, sweet smelling, but armed with a vicious swishy punishment device, a wicked smile on my face and devilry clearly in my heart. I even did a quick dainty pirouette just, so they got the full effect.

Oh well, time to stop posing and get to work. My fingers were itching and eager to start unwrapping and fondling helpless animal flesh! I waggled the crop ominously a couple of times loving the way their eyes followed it, then took a deep breath and thrust it under my waist belt. I wanted it near to hand because it was almost certainly going to bite someone soon.

Beauty had rolled off her mattress sometime in the night. It stank of urine. Admittedly, it had before I rolled her onto to it last night, but now the smell was fresh, not old, faded and stale. I dragged it over to the door no longer needed. I'd take it back to the local council dump in a day or two, then I changed my mind and dragged it back to its original dank corner. Let it add to the stench in here and who knows, maybe the bitch will be allowed to use it in the future as an occasional treat! Wow, a treat? A night on a revolting piss and shit stained crumbling lump of foam rubber!

Beauty was making noises again. I ignored them and released her first from the straps and then removed the long chain from her hobbles. She didn't try to resist as I rolled her first one way and then the other. Maybe the fight had gone out of her, I hoped not, not yet anyway!

It hadn't; it came back the moment I started to 'unwrap' her. I thumbed an inch or so of the blade from my knife then sliced deftly through the laces on one trainer then the other. Never heard of the make or logo. Some cheap East European or Asian brand. I pulled them off her feet, and that's when she started wriggling and writhing, trying to kick and shrieking muffled curses or similar at me as I tossed her footwear to one side.

I smiled at her. \"No use sweetie\", I told her. I tapped on her ball gag then pointed towards one of my ears. \"I can't hear you, and all of this is going to come off\". I grabbed and shook a handful of tee shirt. \"Everything, and you can't stop me.\" The frantic thrashing and attempts to roll around recommenced. I grabbed a flailing ankle and ripped away a short pale-yellow sock. I stood up, pinned the leg to the floor with a booted foot and loosed the riding crop.

Many a night while using a vibrator I had fantasised about that initial beating. The first blows. The first screams. The first sadistic thrill feeding the lust in my crotch. In my mind, my victim was always tied naked to a whipping post or fastened across a flogging bench. I stand nearby threatening, commanding, dominating while choosing my dread implement of pain with deliberate care. Taking my time, relishing the situation, drawing out the terror smiling cruelly as I stared intensely into my helpless victims' eyes as I teasingly swish a cane or crop through the air.

The first blow, hard, very hard, no mercy shown, start as you mean to go on. An agonised scream. Sobs, begging, pleas. A cruel red stripe on white flesh. A long lingering pause to savour the sweet chilling moment, then a second blow and a third....

Ah well, this was now reality, not fantasy and I was getting irritated. I gave Beauty a couple of quick cuts to the sole of one foot. No red stripe that I could discern but the screams and resultant pleas were just the same or would have been if she'd not been chomping on the hard-red ball in her mouth.

I waited patiently till she stopped writhing and mouthing unheard obscenities at me then bent and tapped her on the nose with the flat tip of my crop. \"I suggest you stay quite still. Your clothes are coming off, and if you try to stop me, I will take the skin of your feet with this\" I tapped her nose a couple of time. \"Then I will whip your arse until it is nothing but a lump of bloody red meat\".

I ripped the sock off her other foot, stood up abruptly and lashed out again once, twice at the sole of that foot. \"Understand bitch?\".

Her eyes told me that she did. There was anger, no rage, sheer undiluted rage flashing in them but also fear, fear and understanding. She was shaking now. Fear or rage? Did it matter? I knew that for the moment I had won. I was also shaking, well not shaking so much as trembling. Excitement and sheer sadism, a heady mix. Oh god, I would need to cum soon.

I dropped the crop and went looking for a new tool. A very large pair of scissors was not as frightening as the crop but ultimately perhaps more devastating as I knelt back down beside her. I was impatient now; I wanted the bitch stripped. I ignored the vague sounds behind me as the spare still tried in vain to make herself heard. I quickly unbuckled a cheap leather belt, yanked it through all the loops and tossed it over to lie with the trainers. One advantage of this stupid fashion for 'distressed' jeans full of holes is that the denim seemed much weaker plus you only have to cut from hole to hole and then top and bottoms.

Beauty was making noises again. I ignored her. I was probably ruining one of the most costly items in her wardrobe. I knew that some of these absurd jeans could be ridiculously expensive. Well, she wouldn't need them again so why all the fuss? I had a cute leather outfit already for her, one that had cost me an absolute fortune and hadn't been thrown together in some Asian backstreet death-trap sweatshop! If she wanted a bespoke designer outfit, then she would soon have one. Ok, so maybe it would be somewhat revealing and more than a little restrictive, but I would appreciate the quality and craftsmanship even if she didn't!

The tattered damp remnants of her jeans joined the pile of discards. She had long sturdy yet shapely legs. Dancers legs, oh she would do just fine. They quivered under my touch as I ran a hand lightly from knee to thigh. I wrinkled my nose. Time to rip those rather boring wet stinky plain white panties off and see what treasures lay underneath. A thought struck me, and I left her for a moment while I retrieved another item from the cupboard over my sink unit.

I stood over her again slowly pulling on a pair of thin blue latex hygiene gloves. No need to get my hands all covered in her smelly filth when I had purchased a couple of boxes for just these situations. Her eyes blinked at every elastic snap as I pulled the gloves over my hands then wiggling my fingers to settle the latex I knelt again, snip snip with the scissors and ripped away her piss soaked panties. Poor thing, she kept half rolling from side to side vainly trying to raise a bent leg to cover herself. No chance with those leg irons on.

Amazing! It looked as though she'd never let a razor go down there in her entire life. A great tangled, damp mass of wiry blonde hair that obscured her genital area spreading out like a mini coir doormat in three directions. No Brazilian G-string bikini babe this one! A thought occurred to me. To think is to act, so I plunged a hand between her thighs and probed in the fourth direction. Nope, miss bushy was devoid of hair around the anal area.

My original desire was for a totally bald pony with a sweet clean shaved cunt on display. Nothing hidden, everything that belonged to me on show just for me and my visual delight and the pony's complete shame. On or off, that was the question now? Such an unusual tangled mass, a real furry animal coat! Oh well, no rush, Beauty and I had all the time in the world to resolve these little teasers, didn't we?

That stifled protest that came because of my hand's brief, tentative exploration of the 'rear entrance region was so satisfying. I resisted the overwhelming urge to probe further and deeper with a blue latex finger, how delightfully easy it was to get sidetracked from the main event. I withdrew my hand and eyed her upper torso, time to go for the jackpot. Her arse and thighs would soon get acquainted on a regular basis with my nastier toys, but those big orbs were also destined to feel the painful caress of the same implements when the mood took me.

My palm could feel the warmth of her belly through her sweater as I let it rest lightly on her stomach, my hand rising and falling slightly as she took quick shallow panicky breaths. I pressed a little harder with a rotary movement, flat and firm, no obvious flab on this big filly. I took up the scissors again.

Sweater and an icky faded mauve tee shirt joined the pathetic pile of shredded garments. The big reveal had come as I slowly ripped the ruined tee shirt away from her. I was more than satisfied. A fine pair of udders, not huge but indeed a match for my fantasy expectations. She needed the cheap bra that I snipped and tossed so casually away, mayhap the last item of 'human clothing the animal would ever get to wear.

Those pale soft gently quivering udders would soon look so delightful thrusting out prominently above the leather harness, probably drooping slightly now that they would not have any support, but how they would bounce and jiggle when she was made to run or to dance at the whipping post. Pity the nipples and aureoles were rather small I would have liked them more prominent, but maybe they would be extra sensitive? I'd find out soon enough. Anyway, everything else was just perfect. I licked my lips. Beauty was just that - a real beaut!

Chapter 8 - Finalising a disappearance

I gave it half an hour. Yes, I'd got myself way too worked up again. I was back in the house with yet another coffee, stronger this time and nibbling on a ginger biscuit for energy although my hunger was not for food. I was watching a monitor. Beauty had sort of rolled, and bum shuffled first to her pile of ruined clothing then over to her friend. I'd adjusted her ankle hobbles so that her legs were now tightly drawn together. If she got to her feet, she could bunny hop, but that was about all and the stable door was locked. They were back to back now probably looking for some way to release each other from the cuffs. No chance without the universal key on the bunch in my pocket.

Nothing on the radio or local news. Nothing at all bar a minor road traffic incident and a break-in at a supermarket. A black hole had swallowed them, and no one knew a thing about it. In a day or two perhaps someone somewhere, probably more than one person would start to worry, maybe even eventually start to make enquiries. Who knows, the trail would go cold at that farm, perhaps that idiot farmer would find himself in the dock on a more severe charge than employing a few illegals?

I glanced at the wall clock. Plenty of time. I would spend the rest of the morning dressing Beauty in her new outfit and getting her provisionally settled into a stall. The rest of the afternoon could be devoted to...to Cutie? I considered it. She would need a name, and maybe that would do for now. Maybe the Internet would give me a better alternative, something appropriate for a female bitch dog but also suitably demeaning and humiliating. Maybe a name in her own language? No, no point. Dogs don't understand language, only specific words and the tone you used. The bitch would be trained like any other dog so why give a fig if it understood or not!

Another idea occurred to me. A rather cruel one as I was thinking about the Internet, names, pictures. I considered for a few moments. It could, of course, make things a trifle more awkward, but not by very much, they were both going to struggle anyway weren't they? It would be fun to watch their reactions, and that would more than makeup for any additional minor handling difficulties encountered.

I switched my PC back on, sipping coffee and mentally combing through my many saved image files to come up with a few suitable ones while it booted up. I flicked the printer switch, rummaged through an untidy drawer and found the rarely used glossy printer paper I was seeking....

I closed and locked the stable door behind me again. They were lying side by side next to the second filthy mattress. One now completely naked bar restraint's the spare still fully wrapped. I considered them both for a moment from my lofty position standing above them. They were both silent for a change. Maybe they were beginning to learn that a gag was just that! Why waste energy? I probably had been too lenient and not tightened them enough that's why they could still make those muted noises.

Together or separate I mused when I showed them the pictures I was carrying? Separate, I think. Doggie could watch me outfit Beauty and put her away in the stable, but I might dress her in my house. Maybe, I would need to get an outfit first anyway. I might just keep her chained up in one of the spare bedrooms, the empty one with nothing in it now but dust and faded carpeting. Beauty would next get to see her again on a leash when we went walkies over to the stable.

I would have to browse the Internet in the evening, go to a few of my particular bookmarked BDSM equipment sites. The one I'd purchased a lot of the pony gear from I knew also had a selection of 'puppy gear', horrendously expensive I thought if it was anything like the pony stuff I had purchased. I could probably devise a way of keeping the little bitch down her on hands and knees in the meantime.

I remember buying the pony gear. Gawd! At the time I couldn't believe what I was spending and spending on what was purely then a masturbatory fantasy! It had started off small and then grown likewise the quality and price of the items I bought. The cheap eBay trash soon gave way to more substantial pieces of kit. It became a sort of ongoing drug! I'd vaguely excused it at the time as 'maybe meeting someone on the scene' but never really considered it too seriously. They say collectors soon become fanatics and that's what I had quickly become as my equipment inventory grew in tandem with my ever-increasing masturbatory fantasies. A fanatic who had now collected and pinned the ultimate 'butterflies to her private collection display board.

Beauties stall was already; it had been waiting on an occupant for some time. The old woodwork sanded down and re-stained, hinges and ironwork painted, and oiled, old white-washed brick walls rubbed down and given a couple of fresh white coats, all part of the overall refurbishment by the contractors. The removable food and water bowls sunk into the shelf at the back was my addition as were the numerous heavy security eye bolts and hooks.

Despite my diminutive size, I wasn't some fluffy air-headed bimbo who needed someone shouting, 'hairy end down when using a paint brush! I could paint, decorate and put a shelf up with the best to them. A few decent drill bits of varying sizes, my big electric drill, some heavy-duty fixings and backing plates. Nobody was going to pull those babies out of the wood and brickwork not without the aid of a large spanner and a hammer. Neither of which would ever be available to restrained pony lacking the use of its fore hoofs! Um, did human ponies have fore hoofs?

Walking over to the allocated stall I was conscious that two pairs of eyes would be tracking me. I opened the top door and hooked it open then did the same with the lower. I had always wondered why they'd originally been built like that. Usually, that split door arrangement was only used when they led directly out into an exterior enclosed stable yard.

The stall was about twelve feet long by about seven wide and separated from the ones on either side by a tall wooden partition. The original floor had been replaced by a fresh concrete one that slightly inclined toward the stable wall. A narrow channel ran along there into a foot square drain covered with a fine metal grill. I was going to have to muck the animal out, but I'd use a hosepipe as much as possible.

Just a couple more touches, and it would be 'home sweet stall' I grinned. I looked over my shoulder. Yes, they were both silent and watching. Pity they didn't get the joke, yet! Maybe I should do a colour print of that on my PC, frame it and hang it on the wall, lol.

I hauled several big bags of 'Best quality pet sawdust' over from a pile in the corner. I struggled a little; it was heavy. Enough there to keep a few hundred pet hamsters happy for life. My knife came in useful again on the robust plastic packaging, and I soon finished spreading the contents evenly over the floor of the stall. That had been another decision to make.

Given that Beauty would be wearing 'hoof boots did I need to use a floor covering. I decided yes if nothing else it would add to the animal environment plus absorb some of the dung that was going to be coming out of her. Hell, maybe I could even have a few bags outside my gate like the riding school further down the road did, help yourself, free horse manure for your roses, donations welcome. Maybe not, might be too much of a giveaway. My sense of humour was in fine fettle today.

I wondered if I should water them again then decided against it. They wouldn't die on me for the lack of a drink, not just yet. Beauty could get her head in her trough once I'd got her settled and I'd get the spares head in a bowl later. There was something else though that needed doing urgently.

Last night I had been conscious that something was missing, and I ought to have dealt with it earlier. My mantra must be Security, Security, Security. No compromises. I should have checked their bags and phones. How many young girls do you see these days without a cell phone tucked into a rear pocket of those over tight pants they wear? Were those phones still in the caravan, unlikely?

No, I'd dismissed the thought last night. Surely, they would have been the first things they would have grabbed when they prepared for a hasty evacuation? I went to my car and quickly found the two cloth shoulder bags, retrieved the holdall Beauty had been carrying that I'd casually tossed to one side last night, the big holdall and the second smaller one from the car boot.

I deliberately put the bags down near to them, so they could watch me as I knelt and proceeded to rummage through all of their pathetic possessions. My hunch from the previous evening had been right. I found the phones immediately tucked away in the two cheap looking shoulder style bags. I upended them and tipped the contents of both bags into a small pile, pulled a few zips undone and shook everything else out before tossing the empty husks onto the remnants of Beauties clothes.

Ignoring the animated if muted noises emanating from stage left I examined my little hoard. Tissues, various cosmetics, keys, coins, notebooks and diary's, mirrors, cheap ballpoint pens, combs and brushes, a half tube of peppermints, a plastic lighter, mp3 player, earphone buds, two packets of Marlborough light cigarettes one unopened and all the other stuff you would expect to find. Interestingly there was a packet of contraceptives and what looked like a half-empty foil sheet of birth control pills. Well well well, maybe my assumption of the night before had been wrong. Whose I wondered?

I did isolate two new looking passports, one loose, one in a document wallet, another wallet and of course the two cell phones of a make I was not familiar with. Both were switched off as far as I could see which was good. I didn't want any busybody trying to use a 'find my phone app'. Do they work when a phone is switched off?

I went over to my workbench area and came back with an old metal waste paper bin, a house brick and a claw hammer. It was tempting to be nosey and browse around on the phone's contents, but I decided against it. I wasn't that interested and who knows what might happen if I activated them. Besides, there might be family photos and that sort of thing, and although I didn't give a shit, the less, I saw of anything like that the better. These were just two unfortunate animals I'd cut from the herd, and I wasn't the least bit interested in their previous existence. That no longer had any relevance for them and I certainly wasn't about to open the door to any personal guilt vault!

I put a phone down in the hollow of the brick and methodically smashed it to pieces with the hammer. I repeated the action with the second phone. The batteries I retrieved and dropped on the work-bench, all the other less dangerous bits went into the waste bin. Boy, those gags did need tightening, or maybe I needed to go up a size judging by the animation and muffled sounds my two beasts were making. Well, pretty pretties its about to get worse so take a long last look at who and what you used to be.

I then went through the wallets. Credit cards, identity cards, bank notes, a book of UK stamps, a strange looking driving licence, loyalty cards in a foreign language and other bits and bobs. The UK notes, near on two hundred pounds plus two hundred and sixty US I pocketed. Cue, even more, attempted noise. Everything else I threw into the waste bin along with the wallets.

The two passports were both red European Union ones. I was familiar with those as I had one myself buried deep somewhere in the knicker drawer in my bedroom along with my chequebook and various insurance documents. I did not look at the country on the cover but flipped open the second to last page in each being careful to hide the first few data lines with my fingers. Silly perhaps, but I did not want to know their names. Names would make them people, might make me feel guilty, as it was, they were not people merely my animals, and I did not feel the slightest twinge of guilt.

I only wanted to see their dates of birth. Beauty was halfway through her twenty-second year while little Cutie was barely nineteen. I didn't bother memorising the dates; there wouldn't be any point there would be no celebrations here. Well, maybe we might have an anniversary once a year. Call it capture day, perhaps? Well, I could hardly call it Independence Day, could I!

I held the passports up, so they could clearly see, then slowly ripped them in half along the spines and tossed them into the bin. Cue more muted noises from the captive duo. I could have done all this in the house of course, but I wanted them to watch their entire lives disappearing before their eyes. Cruel but then again, I'd hardly got started down that particular road.

I salvaged one of the plastic ballpoints, ripped a few blank pages from a diary then tipped most of the other junk from the handbags into the waste bin before going outside to fetch a couple more items. I returned dragging an old once galvanised trash bin now more rust and holes than a useful refuse container, plus the plastic petrol can I used to fuel my strimmer and lawn mower. I poured a little petrol into the small metal waste paper bin, picked up a couple of pages from the diary, lit them with the plastic lighter and tossed them into the bin. All three of us watched as the flames flared up and quickly ensured that two people had just ceased to exist!

Chapter 9 - Dressing A Ponygirl

I let the small waste bin burn, dragged the battered old galvanised dustbin into a more visible position and turned my attention to the other three bags. First things first, I bundled up everything I'd so recently removed from Beauty and tossed it into the big bin. Yet more frantic but stifled noises which I of course ignored. I think they both guessed what my next course of action would be.

I quickly riffled through all three bags, the two smaller holdalls and the big long one. Clothes, lots of clothes but nothing exciting. A couple of small zip bags full of cheap cosmetics, shoes, trainers a couple of pairs of boots, a cheap rip off copy of a pair of Ugg boots and a whole heap of everyday utilitarian white cotton underwear. Sheesh, had neither of these bitches heard of 'sexy'? It looked like they had come purely to be casual farm labour, all jumpers, jeans and warm white winter underwear! There were also books, quite a lot of books some obvious fiction but some that looked like medical and mathematical textbooks. So, the animals had brains, Good, they might learn faster although better that they were stupid, for their sakes anyway, life with me was not going to be intellectually stimulating!

I retrieved the ballpoint pen from where I'd just casually discarded it, and the remaining diary page using them to jot down shoe sizes, European of course not UK but every clothing site on the Internet seemed to have a conversion chart. I also rummaged through the pile looking at labels in various items of clothing so that I knew what sizes they both took. I'd intended to use a tape measure later but once again, no harm in doubling up especially if you were about to spend a lot more money on a specialised BDSM pet suit and other items! I scribbled down some information on the page, folded it and squirrelled it away with the bank notes I'd just liberated.

There was nothing immediately apparent in the growing piles that I wanted or could use, so some aerosol spray cans joined the phone batteries on the workbench before I stuffed a miscellaneous armful of clothing into the big rusty bin. Next, I ripped a few books apart down the spines, added them and a few shoes to the mix then dragged it out into the backyard. I came back, picked up the petrol can, waved it maliciously in the direction of two pairs of horrified eyes and went back outside. The first batch was soon burning. It would take a few days I guessed to get rid of the lot but better than adding it to my ordinary household rubbish to be collected. Just for good measure, I tipped the half-burnt remnants from the waste paper bin into the bigger burning dustbin. Those rust holes certainly assisted in turning it onto a useful brazier.

Time to think about getting Beauty nicely kitted out and ready for her new life which reminded me of the pictures that I had printed out earlier. This should be interesting. Stand by for a wild reaction. I pulled a fabric tape measure out of another pocket and went over to Beauty stooping to pick up my previously discarded riding crop enroute.

They both looked up at me, looked at the crop I was suggestively flexing and then back to me - two pairs of eyes moving in tandem. They were frightened, no, correction, they were apprehensive that's all. They had not learnt to fear me yet, but they would and soon. Beauty had already felt the crop on her feet, but those although painful had been relatively light taps.

I pointed at Beauty with the business end of my crop. \"Stay still\" I commanded. \"Stay still and don't move, otherwise\", I waggled the crop ominously.

Their expression changed a little. Now I could see a hint of fear, just a little but that would grow just as the exciting sensations I could feel in me grew as I savoured my total dominance and ownership of these two beauties. We would grow together but I, technically the smallest and weakest, was the one who would always be by far the biggest and strongest!

I knelt by Beauty tape measure to hand. I took a few necessary measurements, bust waist and one or two others I might need in the future. I retrieved the scrap of paper from my pocket and jotted them down. She remained entirely passive even helpfully arching up a little as I passed the tape under her. Beauty really was perfect. The kit I had waiting for her might have been tailor-made or as near as damn it! She was exactly what I had envisaged when purchasing so much of it. Big feet though! Oh well, better for her to balance on when I rode her, and I had wisely not invested in any 'hoof' boots yet. I'd get some made to measure; she could dance around in a cheapo pair of high heels or similar in the short term. Rome wasn't built in a day, and those things would have to be an individual purchase. Made to measure and bound to cost an absolute fortune!

Most of what I needed was in the top drawer of my nearest unit; I started taking out various pieces and laying them on the flat polished top. Oh gosh, that heady crisp scent of fresh new leather came wafting out. One of my three favourites all time smell sensations, leather, new car interiors and fresh ground coffee, delicious!

The German company I'd found had a wide range of options available, and the online details had been quite open about suggested usage. Mine all came from the 24/7 collection, and I hadn't gone for the padded comfort range either. I'd opted for their 'Extreme 'Raw' range. Restrain, confine, punish your beast! Well, that's what I wanted, and that is what I had purchased.

The website had been quite explicit. Intended for severe heavy use only! Suitable only for experienced players. Bold, underline and repeated. Designed to be put on AND STAY ON by your owner......you had better trust them! This is NOT a playsuit. Recommended for serious Barn and Stable use only, not the bedroom! I wasn't sure just how much of this was marketing aimed at the average wank fetishist and how much was intended to be genuine. Well, when I'd bought it, I suppose with my little pink vibrator earning its keep, I fell into that former category.

There was no doubting the quality though. This stuff was thick, thicker than a leather belt yet also highly supple where it needed to be and inflexible where it didn't need to be. One addition was the delicate strands of woven steel threaded or stitched into certain parts of it. They guaranteed it to be one hundred per cent inescapable and even had an offer of a Million Euros to anyone who could manage it. So far the reward was unclaimed.

It wasn't called the raw range just for show. The same explicit marketing blurb urged you to harness your beast and leave it harnessed. The longer, the better if you want it to mould to and absorb the creatures sweat and fluids and smell like the real thing! Sounded good to me and some of the accompanying pictures had gone straight into my pet folder even if disappointingly most of the gear being modelled or worn was by huge chunky six pack type guys.

Another aspect that had attracted me was simplicity. Half if not most of the attraction to some people seemed to revolve around the number of straps, buckles and belts every harness seemed to require. I suppose if you were a bondage aficionado that was most of the fun. Me, I wanted simplicity, ease of use and straightforward 24/7 uncomplicated functionality, not buckles and bows! Nor had I wanted something custom made to measure. Maybe now though that could be a future option, but again no doubt at an astronomic price? To be fair, I suppose if you were making gear that exclusive then you would need to charge premium prices.

I had everything laid out now, straps loose or undone ready for a first and possibly permanent fitting. Gleaming brand new sweet-smelling black leather. Probably still way too stiff but give it a few weeks, plenty of sweat and a few soakings with the hosepipe and it will become more comfortable. Correction let's say wearable! Polished on the outer side and just raw stained black hide on inner. Some things might need replacing, but I had plenty of time to find out which ones. Now I just needed her up off the floor and temporarily secured in a helpless position so that I could introduce her to her new attire! Time mayhap for a little more encouragement with the crop?

Helpless but readily accessible. Dressing a reluctant beast had been a regular aspect that featured in my nightly sessions of masturbatory extasy as I'd fantasised through every detail of my newly discovered interests - the fantasy that had now become a reality.

Laughable really. The piece of furniture I dragged out was an ultra-cheap purchase at my local DIY store. Actually, it was quite well made, but I'd seen it and bought it as an end of line item. Technically it was a table for pasting wallpaper. It was now about to become a dressing table for a reluctant pony girl. Like I said, laughable although I doubted if she'd be laughing.

That smell of shit was getting stronger I absently noted as I unfolded the table and let the legs drop down and slotted in their retaining pins. Someone was losing it again! I gave it a shake, it did wobble but not that much, quite a sturdy piece for the price. It was about five and a half feet long by two broad. Big enough for my purposes. To be perfectly honest I had bought it for its original purpose but never gotten around to using it.

I suppose if I'd thought about it beforehand, I could have adapted it and got all sorts of straps fitted, but I hadn't, and they weren't. In books and stories, the 'bondage bench' was always ready to hand. Unfortunately, I didn't have one, and this had caught my eye a little earlier. One thing I did have was a drawer full of different straps and various lengths of rope, so just a little improvisation was all that was needed. I also added a couple of short webbing luggage straps with one-way roller buckles, a relic of past days out with my boyfriend used to secure our bicycles to a rack on his car. How to get her from there to here though? Would the crop be enough incentive?

Nope, no point in rushing it, take your time. If the bitch somehow managed to lash out and caught me or damaged herself badly, well better not to provide any opportunity. I selected one of the items I'd already laid out, added a long coil of strong, thin rope from a drawer, and crossed back to where Beauty lay.

She didn't like the collar, I knew she wouldn't, but then she was not going to like any of the stuff I intended to outfit her in. Not much fun for me if she did like it! Initially, she had lain there quite motionless as I approached and then rolled her over face down. It wasn't till I slid the posture collar under and around her neck that she started to react. Muted noise again and attempted leg kicking. Well, real leg kicking as best she could with them both hobbled together. Unfortunately, a waste of effort, I was busy at the opposite end and thus well out of range.

I buckled the collar tightly but not too tight, plenty of time for fine tuning later. I gave it an unnecessary tug to check security and slid a finger down between it and her neck - bags of room. The collar was one of my expensive but straightforward pieces. I'd eschewed the fancier types and the ones with lockable fixings. I quite liked the idea of locks and the sound of padlocks clicking shut with an air of permanence but reluctantly decided against it. Locks would have their place, but a wide strap and sturdy buckle would do just fine with no key to worry about. Only one of us would ever be able to remove it anyway!

One end of the rope I threaded through a D ring at the rear of the collar and then stepped back. Her first piece of tack now fitted, and she clearly was not at all a happy bunny. I could see why. The stiff leather was quite unyielding and held her head up quite firmly. There was a slight lip at the front beneath her chin to provide a modicum of support, I'd even been kind and bought the one that had a little padding to that lip so that it wouldn't rub her raw. Bearable so long as you did not try and move your head around a lot. I knew because I'd tried it on myself. Anyway, why would she need that sort of freedom-not as if she'd be watching a tennis match ever!

The restriction was 'as of now, a fact of life for this animal. It was very effective. Once she was standing upright, she'd never see her feet again unless looking in a mirror or bent double; it allowed no downward neck movement whatsoever. She might, maybe, just be able to catch a glimpse of her udders if they stuck out far enough but again, perhaps not.

I walked back towards my makeshift table, stopped before I reached it and tossed the coil of rope over one of the old stout roof support beams. I gave it an experimental tug and sawed it backwards and forwards a few times. Could have done with a pulley but good enough for my immediate purposes. I added a selection of straps ready to hand for securing the beast. Took a deep breath. GTG!

She flinched so delightfully as I tapped her again with my crop. I loved the way she quivered. I bent down. \"We are going to take a little walk\" I whispered quietly to her. \"Across to the table over there and when we get there you are going to get on it and lay face down on it, understand?\"

Her reaction was about what I expected. Her head wobbled amusingly. Clearly, she had attempted to shake it violently from side to side and then found she couldn't, or not very effectively. Score the first point for my restraints., Her legs flailed about wildly again though, and the muffled noises she made sounded even more frantic.

Time for her first real lesson in obedience. I turned briefly to check if little miss cutie was watching, she was, wide-eyed and apprehensive. I gave her a quick evil sort of smile and then turned ultra-quickly and brought the riding crop down hard in a swift blow to Beauties big beast rump.

TWACK!!!

Wow, how could she manage to squeak like that with a gag in the mouth? I loved the way her arse wobbled as the crop hit, and there was my very first red strip plus the distinct mark left by the crops wide leather tip. I had to use all my self-control to restrain myself from adding a second, but I resisted the temptation. Oh, how I wanted to hear that squeak again and watch that delightful big pink mass wobble! Later.

I prodded her in the ribs with a boot. \"Now do you want me to do that a few more times?\" I asked, \"Or do you want to do as I tell you?\"

She responded by scrabbling with her legs and making more noises. I knew what she meant. I moved to assist her loosening the hobble chain between her leg's, so she had a bit more freedom of movement then I grabbed her collar and pulled her up and backwards. \"Kneel\". It took a little manoeuvring, but I got her up kneeling, and then I tugged her upwards half supporting her as she managed to get to her feet. She staggered a bit and seemed almost grateful to be standing, after all, that time on the floor. I wondered if she realised that once in her stall, she might not get the chance to lay down again for quite some time!

No way I was going to allow her time to regain her full faculties. She was slightly dizzy and unbalanced and not fully adjusted to standing again. I gripped the loose end of the rope to take in the slack and pull it tight. There was another muffled squeak. No, I wasn't about to hang her. Keeping the line fairly taught I steered her over the table. Given the difference in our respective sizes, I was taking no chances with this big filly who towered over me even in her bare feet. If she tried anything, I could quickly dance out of range, haul in the slack, tie it off and then proceed to flog the rebellious bitch senseless.

Once she was in place at one end, I tapped her on the bottom with my crop. \"Bend down and lay forward on it\". I ordered. I emphasised the order with a slightly harder tap making sure the flat tip flicked to catch her. She obeyed. Fortunately, she had been too distressed and so not noticed the array of straps and leather harness items laid out on the nearby unit. That posture collar certainly did restrict things.

\"Lift your legs\". I assisted her by half lifting half pushing so that as her legs came up, she slid further along my makeshift bondage table. It creaked and wobbled quite a bit but fortunately didn't collapse under a weight way greater it had ever been intended to support. I hadn't even thought of that.

I grabbed a couple of the webbing luggage straps. One of them went over the middle of her back under the table and through the roller buckle. I used the edge of the table to get some extra purchase and hauled it very tight. She bucked and made another noise. I gave it an extra tug which took in another half inch. The ratchet held solid keeping her pinned helplessly, head jerking a little at one end and legs kicking at the other. I looped the second bright nylon orange strap around her upper thighs and slid it down past her knees pulling the slack in so that her flailing legs were brought under control and held rigid against the table's varnished plywood surface.

I paused. I felt quite out of breath even though I hadn't done anything to exert myself. Stress and tension possibly? I was getting used to those muted noises she was still emitting by now. Waste of time bitch save your energy. It grew a tad louder because I chose to run a hand over the red raised weal on her backside. It wasn't all that prominent, I could barely feel it, and even the red was fading. I'd seen far worse on some of my Internet downloaded video clips. Well, so I needed some practice, the next few days would produce a different crop of marks, excuse the pun!

I checked the two restraining straps for signs of slackening and found none. They would do the job I didn't need more. Not very sophisticated or fetish like but perfectly adequate. Time now though to add another piece of harness to the filly and this one was a hundred per cent pure bondage fetish item. I picked up the long black leather armbinder and laid it loosely down her back. Pictures or arm binder I wondered. Armbinder first, she was going to get very agitated when I showed her those 'interesting' pictures I'd printed out earlier.

I'd chosen this piece of kit only after a lot of thought and a lot of 'googling' for images on the Internet. I had ruled out those with long zippers even though they would be quicker and easier to put on. I mistrusted their long-term security. I'd also ruled out those that had various neck or over the shoulder harness straps as per my minimum buckles, and bows rule. Likewise, I had ruled out anything too thin or that I felt too thick. I was fussy; I wanted something both durable and secure but also supple and flexible enough to mould slightly. My German company naturally had provided just the right product.

Ultimately, we would, of course, go for the full reverse prayer position, maximum discomfort, but for now, something simpler to apply and achieve was what was required. \"Put your hands together\" I ordered. \"Do it like you were going to say your prayers, now!\" I picked up the crop and hit the edge of the table with it, hard, \"Do it\".

She did as I ordered. There was a jingle from the handcuff chain as she brought her palms together her fingers closed. I reached for the leather pouch that had come with the armbinder. It was shaped like a long narrowing triangle with a truncated bottom. Wide at the top for the two wrists but narrow at the bottom where the finger ends were constrained. It had a practical purpose. If the armbinder was loosened at the bottom, the pouch could easily be slipped off for finger maintenance. The beast would need the ends of her fore-hoofs trimming from time to time. They were short enough to be ok for now. I grinned again as another thought struck me. Once sure and certain cure if you have a bad nail-biting habit, not sure it would catch on though!

I slipped the pouch over her hands, quite a tight fit due to the metal plates incorporated between the layers of thin leather and her hands like the rest of her were hardly dainty. No way she would be able to do anything other than some very minor finger twitching, then I pulled the drawstring at the wrist tight and finished by tying off with a double yet bow. The long length of armbinder followed. I worked it under her arms so that the lower end overlapped the top of the wrist pouch constricting her hands by a couple of inches. The binder laced from wrist end to the top but was separated into several sections for convenience. I quickly laced up the first part, tugging on the laced after threading each pair of holes. I'd probably have to repeat this daily I suspected as the garment settled and her body slowly adapted to it.

Despite my aversion, it was necessary to have a few buckled fittings for extra security. One went around the wrist overlap at the bottom, and I pulled it tight before moving onto the next section of lacing. The next section pulled the upper forearms, and elbows close together. I added another strap and moved on to the final and shortest part.

She was grunting in pain as I tied the final bow and then the final buckle, this last one was built into the binder at the very top. I pushed the leather tongue through and around the roller heaving on it as much as I could before tucking the end home. She was now distinctly bowed as her shoulders and upper arms struggling in vain against the leather constraining them. I was getting hot again; she looked so helplessly sexy.

Resisting the urge for yet another coffee, I elected to carry on. My parents had always said I was a bit of a tomboy when I was younger. I'll admit I was never much of a girlie girl, but I did go through the 'Barbie' stage like many little girls. I enjoyed buying new outfits, then dressing and undressing my collection in their finery. I didn't have a 'Ken'. I remember turning down the offer of one as a birthday present in favour of more outfits. I'd forgotten that. I looked over towards little cutie, now wriggling around in obvious discomfort.

Maybe I was a closet lesbian? I'd never really been that keen on boys.... nor girls as well come to that, but now? I was genuinely getting turned on 'playing this version of dress the dolly', one that had no more choice than my plastic ones had all those years ago. I chuckled to myself; my mother always said I was too heavy handed with them. I double checked Beauties fastenings' again, tweaked the mid armbinder strap a tad tighter ignoring the muffled squeak. Well if she could see me now?

I patted beauty on the head. \"Don't worry bitch; I don't think I'll be accidentally pulling any heads or legs off this time around\". I smiled inwardly and told myself 'Other intentional malicious damage though is more or less assured!'

I let my fingers lightly comb through her hair. It was beautifully soft and seemed lightly scented. I was immediately jealous; mine was decidedly wiry in texture. I'd never liked my hair overmuch. It wasn't precisely curly, but my short thatch would never grow straight correctly. I would have loved long straight hair, but bar wearing a wig I was permanently saddled with my short pixie style look. She still had hers in that long, full-bodied single plait now a little dusty and dishevelled. Absent-minded I picked a dead leaf and a couple of small twigs out of it then I decided it was time for the pictures.

The papering table was too short to accommodate Beauty fully. She was laying face down, ankles and feet sticking out at one end and her head at the other supported by the stiff posture collar half on and off the edge. I walked over to my 'may come in useful some time junk pile' in the far corner and retrieved a paint-stained old chair. Well, half a chair since it was minus its back. I usually used it to stand cans of paint on or roller trays while decorating. I carefully positioned it just below Beauties head so that she would get a good view of the images.

I selected the first one and laid it on the seat for her to see. This was going to be oh so amusing. It took a few seconds for her to register what she was looking down at fully. The first glossy picture was a photograph of a ponygirl in her stall dressed in all her finery - tall head plume, bridle and bit, breasts with little bells dangling from the nipples protruding through cut outs in the heavy leather corset, hoof boots. A rope ran from the head harness to the rear of the stall. I let her take it all in and then added the next. Same model, same stall but this time she had turned, so we saw the back view. The arms clearly restrained in the long arm binder with rows and rows of buckled straps also the tail and butt plug so prominent in her anus.

I could not resist reaching over with my other hand and running my fingers slowly along the armbinder. The thickness of the leather was not enough to cloak the movement. Her attempts to move had been quite animated once she took in the details of the first photo, I think the second one and feeling the touch of my fingers along the restraint set her off once it had all fully registered with her. I thought for a second that she'd shake the table apart but no, for the price it had been a good buy.

Just so the animal had no doubts as to what I had planned I placed the third picture down. This time a colourful drawing depicting a helpless ponygirl being exercised out of doors. Arms in a binder, large naked breasts bouncing, bitted, bridled, hoof boots raised high she pranced wide-eyed and despite the cruel bit stretching her mouth managed to convey a look of pure horror. A long lunge resin ran from her bridle the other end held by a tiny girl dressed cowboy fashion. She was laughing as the long whip she held in the other hand flicked out to connect with her pony's naked rump.

I added the fourth image. A colourful cartoon, another harnessed pony girl this time in a stall stretched over a frame, her face invisible as a young farm girl casually used one hand to push the creatures face down into a trough, the other hand, of course, gripped the obligatory crop. The trough was marked oats, and the cartoon was headed 'Feeding Time' in big letters.

I added two pictures in quick succession. I'd had my fun watching the frantic reactions, but now it was time to move things on. Picture five was a cruel drawing of a helpless ponygirl being severely flogged by another youthful owner. The poor animal was covered in nasty stripes and clearly screaming her head off, no bit on this one. The young sadist was quite mercilessly administering the flogging. Picture six returned to the pair in the third image. This time the young cowgirl was riding her beast. The picture was labelled 'Broken'. The ponygirl was running in a sort of bent forward pose, her young rider sitting comfortably on a saddle part way up the ponies back reins in one hand and obligatory crop in the other. Broken maybe but the drawing showed that the crop was not being carried just for show!

By now Beauty was making bizarre noises. The table was shaking as her whole body seemed to be quivering. Rage? Fear? Both? I bent closer, why she was crying now. Sobbing in terror maybe, tears coursing down her cheeks. Her bright blue eyes stared imploringly at me. I smiled and caressed one soft cheek then pouted a kiss at her. \"Good pony be good, and things won't be too bad\". Liar I thought. I wonder if the subliminal aspect of my chosen pictures had registered with her. In almost every image the pony girl pictured was substantially bigger than the dominants controlling them - and here I was, a petite little miss!

The last picture was presented to her. This time I had selected a few frames from a short story series and cut and pasted them together on one sheet. A young pretty bikini-clad 'California type' platinum blonde on the beach. All glowing health, Big bust, white teeth and very long hair blowing in the wind. Unbeknown to her she was being watched by a severe hard-faced woman behind her. The same blonde now clad ponygirl fashion strapped in a chair, the hard-faced woman dressed in riding gear watching as another woman worked on the blonde girl's head with scissors and a razor. A close up of the horrified blonde being shown a butt plug complete with a long platinum blonde tail! The final frame depicted the blond complete with tail prancing to the tune of her mistress's cruel whip. The long blonde hair now gone, replaced with a single Mohican cut, her head completely bald either side of the raised plume.

\"Cute, eh\" I whispered in her ear.

I suspected she was probably quite proud of that blonde mane. Most of those shampoos and conditioner I'd found it in the bags had probably belonged to her. Well, that was in the past. That hair belonged to me now, and I would decide what would become of it.

Decisions decisions. I rather liked that long blond mane. I could use one of those conical headpieces on top of her head so that she had a high ponytail, a blonde plume of her hair sticking up and then flowing down her back. That would look oh so pretty. On the other hand, I found the idea of a shaved or partly shaved head very sexy. I remember getting very wet once while reading a lesdom story. The wicked Domina kept all her personal harem of female and male' slaves bald-headed, relishing the feel of touching and stroking a smooth bald head between her legs while it went about the business of satisfying her with its tongue. Stroking my ponies' bald bits would feel kinda sexy.

Maybe there was a compromise. I intended harvesting some of that hair anyway for the special tailpiece I'd purchased. I'd give her a few days before I introduced that. It wasn't one of the bog-standard ones you could find on any sex shop site, red plastic with black nylon tail hairs. This one was a lot bigger and much more unique. Anyway, all that was something else to think about meanwhile there was still plenty of other things to do.

The main body harness went on next. I'd thought long and hard about this item as well. I quite liked those with cutouts revealing big bare udders, but I also loved the tight waspie type ones. My Swiss company had a good selection and could adapt any model to personal requirements. I'd decided that there was no need to set everything in stone. Hell, now we were looking at ultra-long term were we not. The bitch would wear a dozen or more variations over the coming years for my delight and titillation likewise with everything else. That was the beauty of this situation; it was virtually open-ended, and I had already decided not to dwell too much on the negative implications of a possible end scenario!

I worked the chosen garment under her between body and the table. Was garment the right term? Waist harness? Whatever. I had gone for a straightforward design but also somewhat sophisticated in its wicked fastenings. Basically, a large under bust enlarged waspie corset of stiff black reinforced leather. In front, it rose at the top in the middle far enough and shaped to separate the pony's udders but would neither support nor cut into that soft flesh. At the bottom, it extended in a broader and deeper V towards the wearer's crotch. In the rear, it crossed straight across the back just below the shoulder blades and plunged at the bottom in another V shape.

There were five fastenings at the back but less visible and far more adjustable than any clumsy strap, buckles or pull cords. I eased the 'garment' into place carefully pulling one side slightly over the other at the back then feeding the male tongue of the middle fastening into the low-profile female lock on the other side of the garment. I inserted a special Allen Key into the female half and began to wind it round and round. One edge of the corset slowly crept over the other as I turned the key.

I paused to jiggle the stiff leather garment a little to ensure it fitted correctly. I loosened the luggage strap cautiously across her back so that I had a bit more room to manoeuvre, slipping a hand under her and taking my time to ensure the fillies udders were appropriately positioned. I suppose that should have been something of an erotic moment for me, but I was too caught up in getting that piece of tack on her to notice or feel anything.

Satisfied I quickly threaded the four remaining male tongues into their respective female counterparts and tightened them all far enough to secure the garment. I jiggled it around some more to get it adequately settled and then tightened the fittings till I was satisfied that it fitted snugly. I wasn't at this point going to start over tightening it. That could wait till she was up on her feet, hoofs I mean, then that waist was going to get one hell of a lot trimmer, diet and my little Allen key would guarantee that in the months to come!

Interesting, I noted that the creature had smooth armpits. She obviously shaved under there but never touched that great hairy mons of hers. I ran a hand down one of her legs, that was also quite smooth. Oh well, from now on I wouldn't be bothering with that. It wasn't as if she was going to be out anywhere flaunting herself in hot pants and a skimpy top or a bikini. She was just an animal, and some body hair would not be amiss.

I liked that corset, plain, simple, relatively smooth and utterly inescapable without one of the special keys. There were extra fittings, of course, discrete D rings in the appropriate places and a couple more of the thin embedded tension locks lower down, one front and back designed to take the accompanying crotch strap that would soon be fitted out with a couple of the numerous interesting little 'add-ons' I had purchased.

Almost ready now. Just a couple more things needed to complete our little dressing game then we could close this first part of the initiation, get it fed and watered and 'settled' into its new home! Make the most of this little interlude animal; it will be the last time you get to lay down for a while, in human form anyway. That was going to be an interesting little experiment, I mused, just how long could a two-legged equine last before needing to lay on the ground?

Head harness next. \"No\". I tapped her sharply on the nose with two fingers. Still!\" I commanded and reached past her head to select a picture from those on the chair beneath her. I chose picture five and reached for my riding crop, tapped the picture lightly with the business end a couple of times deliberately targeting the well whip marked buttocks of the pictured pony. I then brought it crashing down once, twice, three times. The picture and those underneath crumpled and ripped, and Beauty squeaked and tried to jump about again as best she could. I tapped her on the nose with the little leather flap at the end of my crop, ran it gently around her face, touched her lips and finished with another light tap on the end of her nose. \"Still!\".

The old expression 'Good as gold' came to mind. I hadn't thought of that since I was a kid at my grandmother's house, but it certainly described the sudden change in Beauty. Noise and movement ceased abruptly as she stared down at the mutilated picture. Well, even the dumbest animal can learn!

Slipping the head harness on was now quite easy. Quite a few straps and buckles on this piece but I did not mind them, probably the only sure way to get a good fit and they did add to the harnessed 'animal' look. This item was classic. I lifted her hair up and out of the way, easy thanks to the style she used. A band around the top of the head, an over-head side to side one and one under chin strap, the inverted Y shaped straps from a headband that separated to run either side of the nose down towards the edges of the mouth region, the strap around the back of her head that would support the bit. All common but again manufactured to the highest standard. There was another Y shaped strap at the rear, this time right way up, that took a bit of adjusting before I'd got her blonde plait through the top part of the Y.

Voila, the human being had disappeared behind the thin leather straps, and I was now looking at the semi-obscured frightened features of an animal. My animal. Pity I had nothing suitable for its hoofs! Never mind, they'd be alright on the sawdust floor of her stall. I did not envisage her going out of it for a while, and by then I'd have gotten something. I could get a cheap pair of stiletto heeled boots off eBay they'd do for a bit.

I walked over to recheck her stall. Perfect. Nothing sharp or dangerous, all was ready for its unwilling occupant. I gave little cutie another dig in the ribs with a toe end as I passed. \"Quiet, I'll get to you soon sweetie\".

Once released from the luggage straps I slid her back off the end of the table and helped back to her feet remembering to move the rope from her collar, no longer needed. No arms and with legs still hobbled I steered her step by step towards the prepared stall. About two-thirds of the way across she suddenly stiffened and braced her feet. I think she'd just seen our destination, remembered the pictures and realised what she was heading towards.

No problem, a couple of very mild swipes across the beast's rump with my crop was all it took. Obstinance I'm afraid was not on the agenda. Blind, unquestioning obedience would be. I guided her in and towards the back then reached for a short length of chain secured by a heavy-duty bolt to the wall at one end, the other fitted with a swivel fitting and stout clip. Quickly reaching up I pressed firmly on the clip, slipped it over the D ring on the front of her collar and released my thumb and took a pace or two backwards.

The rush hit me all at once. I was completely unprepared, and it was so unexpected. My knees buckled slightly. My eyes blinked for a moment wet, and all unfocused and I shook boy did I shake. I had an orgasm just standing there totally out of the blue from nowhere it hit me. That image that had once formed in my mind months ago was now one hundred per cent reality as I looked into that stall and there was my own, my very own for real ponygirl tethered there.

I spasmed entirely out of control for a moment as I enjoyed that absolute interlude of pure, intense pleasure. Ok, so the beast had been looking at the wall in front of her rather than at me with fear in her eyes, nor did her pale hide display the mix of old and fresh marks from my whip, nor was there as yet the heavy overlaying animal smell of shit, sweat, leather, piss and the rest. That would come through, that would come. Now time now for that coffee I thought before un-wrapping the increasingly damp and smelly spare. Sheesh.... what was this thing with me and coffee at the moment? Oh well, if the caffeine keeps me awake tonight, so what? I looked back towards Cutie. I had a hunch that I might well be playing late tonight anyway!

Chapter 10 - Genesis of a Puppy Girl

Peckish. A little empty on the inside I decided as I went back to the house. Breakfast was a meal I all too often skimped on or missed out altogether. Maybe that would change now I had a couple of animals to attend to every morning, well three including the ever-hungry young Raven.

I briefly listened to the local radio station again while making my brunch - still nothing on the news about the two creatures secured in my stable. A police spokesman thanked the public and said they had some promising local leads in respect of the supermarket robbery. The newsreader informed us that some so-called 'reality TV' celebratory was going to have a minor part in a forthcoming production at the Theatre Royal. The brainless bimbo was 'ever so thrilled' apparently. Hmm, from the radio report I gathered it was a walk-on, say three lines and walk off part. Obviously, the producer was canny enough to find this additional incentive in the form of a big bust and pretty smile to separate some of the local tabloid reading morons from their money!

One coffee and a quick cheese and onion toastie later and I was ready and eager to resume 'playing with my newly acquired toys. I was still damp down below, but I decided against changing my panties, only going to get wet again I suspected. Very wet maybe I thought as I threw a quick glance towards my riding crop resting innocently on a kitchen worktop.

Back in the stable, I went to have a good look at Beauty. She was just as I had left her. Well, of course, you fool! Where was she going to go with legs hobbled and chained by the neck to a solid brick wall? Her head turned as I approached, and she half shuffled around to face me. Those indistinct muted noises came again from her gagged mouth, muffled but sounding kinda urgent. One foot, I mean hoof also stamped repeatedly on the floor. Her head kept bobbing up and down, and when she was not stamping her hoof, she was shuffling from one to the other.

She did look magnificent. I'd struck gold, no platinum or whatever with this one. Tall, broad-shouldered but with a decently slimmish waist, big shapely prominent udders, broad-hipped, great butt and long shapely but strong looking legs. Not bad in the looks department either. To be honest, I'd have settled for far less in my animal so long as it was capable of fulfilling my primary criteria. Beauty well exceeded that.

I stood there for some minutes just admiring her. My for real ponygirl, my very own captive animal. Should I put a bit of makeup on her? She was quite attractive in an Amazonian sort of way. Or should I keep her au-natural? Maybe on special occasions or something like that. Makeup? Again, wasn't that straying back into human territory? I had to tense my body hard, the very thoughts I was having was making me oh so very randy. Oh my God, the very fact that here I was standing there looking at her and I had the power the absolute power to do to her whatever I wished and that...that magnificent big beautiful animal couldn't do a single thing to stop me!

I loved the contrast between the shiny black leather and creamy pale skin; the difference was just divine. All the images I'd seen on the Internet hadn't prepared me for this sight in the flesh. My choice of harness seemed to me at that moment precisely right. It was perfect, the way that waspie corset fitted her, the slight bulges of skin around the edge where it 'bit' into her a little because of the tight fit. A tight leather grip that I fully intend would get even tighter as the days went by.

The face was no longer human not now. Well, it was of course, but now it was partially hidden behind the straps of her bridle. Not a full face, only certain features peeking out at me particularly those eyes glaring at me. Hostile, angry, enraged even but oh so helpless. I wondered when that look would change from hostile to hopeless, not too soon I hoped. What would the look in those eyes be like once I gave her a taste of the whip I wondered? Tearful, angry, probably a mixture of a whole range of emotions. I should enjoy some deep eyeball to eyeball visual contact when I started her training. What would I see?

All that creamy pony flesh on display for my delight. Long muscled but shapely legs that went on forever. Oh, to have legs like that, I wish! But of course, I did have legs like that now-they just happened to be on the animal I was looking at rather than me, but they were still mine. That big peach of an arse on her, pink and creamy and soon to be the first target for my painful toys. Should I concentrate on just one cheek and save the other for later....um, yet another wickedly cruel decision to make.

I was right not to clutter her too much with excess tack. I could fully admire the big shapely breasts that swung so delightfully free as she shuffled first one way and then the other. Back, front, back and front again. No matter which way she turned her most private parts were on view to me, how wretchedly humiliated and embarrassed she must be feeling.

A thought crossed my mind. I wondered what price I would have had to pay for her in one of those 'slave or human livestock' auctions that frequently seem to occur in BDSM fiction if there were real equivalent ones held somewhere out there in the world? A great deal I suspected, hundreds of thousands, a million maybe? Speculation and anyway I didn't have to spend a penny, I already owned the animal. I shivered as another delightful thrill ran through me.

She was hopping almost continuously from one foot to the other now, body swaying side to side, muttered incomprehensible noises still emanating from behind the red gag. I suddenly twigged, I knew what the problem was, well not a problem, there was a simple solution after all.

I smiled at her. \"Go where you stand ponygirl, you might as well you ain't-a gonna get to go any other way\". I pointed down at the floor. \"You wanna shit or piss, do it in the dirt like the animal you are now\". I pointed at the floor again with the crop. \"Don't worry; I'll muck you out later......if your good\". I laughed.

Gawd, if looks could kill. I could only see so much of her face now but the look in her eyes. Wow, just a few simple words and I'd defined the difference between us, and she knew it. I think realisation was dawning that this wasn't just some crazy game: the animal and her owner. The creature sort of shook frantically and then shuffled around to face the wall again still hopping from foot to foot. I was a little disappointed. Not to worry, I could always catch the animals first 'dump' via the wall camera recording if I missed it. Pity though, I'd like her to be aware that I was watching....

\"Suit yourself then, only a matter of time, and we've both got plenty of that\". I gave her a light flick on the rump with the crop and once again delighted in the way she flinched. I wondered if I should be talking to her at all, that sort of sent a message that I was still treating her as if she were still human didn't it? Something else to think about. Should I stop immediately and just issue simple commands, or condition her slowly and wind it down over a few days or even weeks?

I left her to her torment. It wouldn't be an issue in the future anyway, not once she had her tail, and she WOULD have that 24/7. Another one of my 'nasty' little toys would ensure that not only would her anus firmly hold the butt plug supporting the tail, but it would also keep the sphincter permanently open. A combination of diet and an ever-open butt hole would ensure that like any equine, what needed to void would drop regardless of the creatures wishes or whereabouts. Give her a few years, and she probably wouldn't even be aware of it!

Cutie appeared to be equally desperate. Her face wasn't obscured other than by the red ball gag, so her features showed a mixture of rage, fear and I think a touch of embarrassment. Well anyone would be embarrassed I suppose laying there in a puddle of their urine and from the smell, a crotch full of crap!

I dropped the crop noticing as I did so how her eyes had automatically fixed on it and followed it down. Hadn't taken either of them very long to recognise where the most significant threat came from, had it? My fingers were soon flexing once again as I settled them into another pair of blue latex gloves then I needed my useful little knife once more.

Strangely this cute little bitch didn't have too much fight in her as I stripped her. Good thing? Bad thing? Time would tell. I suspected that the events of the last...well not even twenty-four hours had taken its toll. I wonder if she had managed any sleep at all last night?

I didn't even bother unknotting her trainers, just ran the blade upwards slashing through the laces: one, two, sock and sock. No belt, Scissors where had I put them? Jeans, no silly fashionable holes in hers, tough to cut at the ankle seams, crotch and waist. Pull off and toss away the blue tatters. Panties, snip and pull, and oh.... a gorgeous little-shaved fanny. Wow, what a contrast to the hairy animal over there!

A cute little mons all plump and 'young girlie' looking, her slit almost hidden in that cute little bump. No, my slit now I corrected myself. Oh, the urge to touch and probe. Resist, resist, other things still to do. I did notice it was damp, not surprising since a good part of her jeans and panties were well saturated and not just with urine and the smell around us was damn strong!

A bucket half filled with cold water, a roll of cheap kitchen towel and a sponge were put to good use cleaning her up - no point in being squeamish about it. Funny, years ago I'd crossed nursing off my list of possible careers because I couldn't see myself ever doing what I was doing now. Strange? Here I was now 'de-shitting' the filthy little beast! Have to get her 'house trained' as soon as possible, don't want to be doing this too often!

More snips, chunky sweater, home knitted by the look of it, now ruined and tossed on the discard pile. Tee shirt, no idea what the logo meant or the language, don't care, off, and finally just the bra. I paused partly because I wanted to savour this moment and partly because my little 'puppy' seemed to recover from her temporary bout of paralysis abruptly.

Like Beauty earlier she began to trash about legs trying to kick, ineffectively I might add given the hobble and the chain still tethering her to a stout post. She was trying to sit partly upright and then throwing herself backwards both legs kicking at empty air. My hand hovered briefly for a moment over the bra then I changed my mind. Quite amusing, let's play there later. I left her to it for a couple of minutes while I went to prepare one or two things.

I rummaged in my toy drawers and began to retrieve various items. Funny how things sometimes work out. Most of these pieces had been earlier purchases bought before I discovered my German site. The quality was still excellent though and given the envisaged 'indoor' role primarily perhaps more appropriate over time.

I decided to fold away the papering table. I could do what I needed to do without it. Puppy dog was not much taller than me and now minus the baggy outer garments and stripped down to its bare hide, was almost the same build as I was. I retrieved the filthy mattress Beauty had lain on, checked it was still dry(ish) and then dragged it over to the cleaner floor area of the still struggling bitch. I wasn't at all concerned about puppy dogs' comfort, but I didn't want her damaging herself on the concrete floor, and even more importantly, I did not want to be kneeling in any of her filth on her mattress!

The bout of kicking was over when I returned to her. She was panting hard and banging her head up and down on the dirty old mattress in a fit of frustration. I dropped an armful of leather, chain and rope on the floor next to her, grabbed at a leg and arm then heaved her over onto her belly and over onto the second mattress. I swung a leg over and settled myself on her thighs, lassoed one kicking leg with the noose I'd just made in a short length of rope, hooked it over the other foot and hauled in the slack. Shuffling forward a little I pinned her lower legs down.

A three-inch-wide black leather ankle cuff was fastened above each foot. Pink I thought as I did it. Beauty can always wear black or maybe red. Pink though in future I think for puppy here once we get everything permanently sorted. I also removed the long chain from her leg irons while I was working on this end.

A quick rummage through the pile next to me and I found the next item. I manoeuvred myself around and shuffled forward to kneel astride her thighs still pinning her down on that awful mattress. Phew, I was going to need to change and shower once we were done. I was probably ruining my expensive riding breeches despite my precautions.

The leather waspie corset slid under her, and I pulled the ends around behind her back to fasten the straps. This garment had been one of my first purchases. It was not as big as the one Beauty now wore nor as sophisticated. About a foot or so deep and fastened at the back with several straps and roller buckles. Good job I had decided against it. I knew it was too small for my proposed pony girl the moment I had unpacked it, but I couldn't resist trying it on a few times myself. Having worn it in bed and masturbated a few times while wearing it, I could hardly return it could I.

It was going to come in very useful now. It wasn't too uncomfortable to wear, but then I had never worn it with the straps pulled highly - no ultra-tight! Nor had I worn it 24/7. Oh, well, we will find out, well one of us will!

I fastened the straps pulling them as tight as I could with the aid of the roller buckles. I then went back to the first one and started again. She was squeaking continually into the gag when I repeated the tightening sequence for the third time. I ran my hand underneath her; the leather was not as thick as the one beauty now wore, and I could easily feel her body warmth through the constricting second skin I'd just bound her in.

While perched on her thighs I took the opportunity to strap another leather cuff around each of her wrists. Then shuffling up and gripping her around the waist with my knees I leant forward to add a collar around her neck. Unlike Beauty, I did not fit that too tight. I wanted her to have a bit off room just like a proper dog when I had her on the leash, but as with any dog collar, this one was still on tight enough not to pull off. Well, to be honest, she'd have had to have had a tiny head for that to happen.

Only one thing left to arrange, but I wasn't a hundred per cent sure how to achieve that. I slipped off her; I needed to fetch something from my house. I left her lying face down, crying again but doing so very quietly now. I was doing this 'off the cuff' as it were, but I kinda knew where I was going with it.

I came back a few moments later carrying the leather pouffe that had triggered my wicked idea a little earlier. Now how to do this. No, if I did it that way it might hurt her when she moved, no what about, no not that either. Not practical. Another thought struck me, and I went over to the corner where I kept my tools, paint cans, brushes and all those bits and pieces you accumulate that may or (more likely) may not come in useful one day.

Somewhat to my surprise given I wasn't a particularly tidy person I found what I wanted almost immediately. I returned carrying a largish roll of grey duct tape. No idea where it had come from, maybe a relic of when I had that work done on the boiler and heating system when I moved back to the house a couple of years ago. I stopped off at my equipment draw to collect a handful of small but expensive padlocks. None of your cheap Chinese rubbish that fell off your suitcase if a baggage handler sneezed too loudly! These were tough little buggers, and all worked off the one master key which was convenient. I also added a wide leg spreader bar to my collection.

I needed the aid of the crop again briefly. A few casual swats with that and a fair bit of heaving and I had the non-too cooperative little bitch face down on my leather pouffe, legs either side and behind slightly ankles held well apart via the spreader bar. I'd released the leg irons. They would not be needed again I hoped.

Time for little miss puppy dog to adopt her rightful place in the world. My world anyway and that would be crawling at my feet. No more Homo Erectus for her-just Homo Dogus! Her view of the world was going to change abruptly to one that would have a decidedly low-level perspective!

My tape measure came in handy again. Not so much for the little bitch's vital statistics, I could get them any time. I took the measurements I needed at the back and then played around with some of my chain collection. I doubled up a couple of lightweight ones to reduce their length and then went about my fiendish task. I ran one from a D ring on the bottom of her waspie corset to another on her left ankle cuff then repeated the operation with the right ankle.

I used my knife to saw off a couple of hunks of foam rubber from one of the more respectable corners of the nearest mattress and then I cut myself a few long lengths of duct tape. My first attempt failed as she kept kicking her legs up and bending her knees just when I didn't want them bending more than they were already. I tied a length of tope to the spreader bar and then stretched it tightly around a hook on the wall. There that kept them still but also bent at the knees, the chains I'd just fitted not allowing her legs to straighten.

I'm the first to admit that I am no good at wrapping parcels. I read somewhere that this is something that comes naturally to women, we'll not to me! No way. Neatness was not in my make-up as far as that sort of thing went. I was always embarrassed at the post office passing some of my rumpled eBay packages across the counter.

OK, so it was not the most elegant bondage job but would hopefully suffice till my credit card purchased something more suitable and durable. I used a couple of shorter lengths of duct tape to secure a foam pad to each of her knees and then used the roll to wind around and around the knee and either side to keep everything secure. Fortunately, the stuff was still nice and sticky also strong and equally important quite flexible if I didn't go too mad with it. I certainly did not want to cut off her circulation either.

The tape gave me another idea. I made another trip back to the house and came back with a pair of thick sheepskin mittens. She still had her arms bound with one of the straps I'd used last, so I removed that and then used it to pull her forearms together just below the elbow. I released the cuffs and stuffed one hand and then the other into the thick mittens binding them at the wrists with several windings of duct tape.

Not the best paws in the world but again they would do for now. I doubted that she'd be able to get enough use out of her hands and arms to cause any mischief nor did I envisage leaving the bitch unsupervised. If I weren't around, then the little pup would always be chained up somewhere.

I stood back to assess my handiwork. OK, so the hind legs would be OK for now but was I happy with the front ones. A sudden noise behind me diverted my thoughts. Beauty had finally let go.

\"Oh, good pony\", I cried clapping my hands as I happily watched my big pony girl do what would soon become as natural to her as breathing. Emm, we'll perhaps not, not for a while anyway. Beauty had tried to squat, but the chain at her collar was too short, so she'd let rip in a sort of partial squat hampered by neck chain and by hobbles on her ankles. She didn't hold back either.

Shit and piss, not the best of scents, but it thrilled me. My animal was making herself at home. I'd finish off getting my new puppy ready, and then I'd feed and water the beast. Beauty was back to staring at the wall. I'd briefly seen the angry red-rimmed eyes glaring daggers at me not to mention the scarlet flush of shame visible on what other parts of her face I could see. Judging by her legs, I'd have to walk her over to the wet area by the sink and hose her lower parts down to get some of that muck off her. I was getting the hots again. Wow, this was what it was all about. The absolute power little old me had over that tremendous two-legged dumb animal.

Show over, back to the puppy. No, I wasn't happy with the front paws. I had intended to add some more chains front cuffs to the waist, but did I really want it to have fully extended arms like that? No, I remembered Penny the puppy girl and her outfit waddling around with minimum ability on her stubby legs. That would look cute, and mobility wasn't an issue, she would not ever be going very far. House to stable and back and maybe out into the yard a couple of times a day to do her business once house trained. Could I wait until I got a puppy costume? No again, I wanted the little bitch waddling around from the start. How?

Duct tape? Maybe but was there...maybe there was. I recalled some of the images I had seen or downloaded; another idea was knocking at the door! I thought about it for about half a minute then went out of the stable and around to the rear of the building. Another old junk pile half overgrown. Ouch, and nettles! I spotted the item I wanted near the top of the heap. Sheesh, now I'm hunting for buried treasure, we'll semi-buried treasure as I retrieved the thing I wanted.

My new stainless-steel sink in the stable was useful to rinse the accumulated filth of it; then I carefully examined my old trophy noting areas where the rubber had perished. Despite having been out there for goodness how many years it was still in pretty good condition, the black rubber still pliable and stretchy. It would cling and be firm enough for my purpose. I laid it on my workbench and cut some sections out of the old car tyre inner tube I'd just retrieved.

I carved a few more lumps of foam rubber from the diminishing mattress, trimmed them off a little neater at my workbench and then found an unopened tube of superglue. Horrible stuff but darn useful when you want to stick a couple of unlikely things together quickly. This was not going to be very elegant but who gave a fuck. Apart from Beauty, I would be the only other observer, and they'd do the job in the short term.

I couldn't resist detouring over to Beauties stall on my way back to 'puppy dog'. Must think of a suitable name for the little bitch I thought and quick if she's to start learning to answer to it! Beauty was hugging the rear wall trying to avoid the fresh mess she'd just created nestling in a pristine bed of sawdust just behind her. I wondered if I should replace the neck chain with a longer one, give her a bit more freedom within the confines of the stall. Nope, let the beast suffer for a bit, she'll learn in time to do it over to one side and out of the way rather than slap bang in the middle at one end.

I returned to 'puppy girl' who was still struggling in vain against the restraints I'd already placed on her. She caught sight of the pile of rubber offcuts and leather straps I was carrying and looked more than a little alarmed. I laughed.

\"Change of plans sweetie\", I told her. \"Had a better idea, not that I think you will like it, in fact, I know you won't\". I dropped what I was carrying and stooped to pick up my riding crop and tapped her lightly on the head a couple of times. \"Now be a good little puppy and stay quite still for me or...\" I changed my aim and rapped her on the bottom just a tad harder, \"...or else\"! I taped twice more and then swung it a couple of times in front of her eyes.

She might not speak English, but I got the impression that she understood enough to get my meaning, we'll perhaps a combination of that and the palpable threat of the ominous crop being wielded by this 'deranged bitch'. Well, I suppose you'd have to be pretty dense not to get the message. 'Behave or else'. I gave her a couple of seconds then tossed it on the ground in front of her and set to work once more.

One of my equipment draws contained a veritable treasure trove of different straps. I seemed to have lost track somewhere along the line of how much I was buying and how much I was spending. I had no recollection of buying all that lot, no wait. Now I remembered, a lot of the gear I'd bought had come with additional straps either as part of the kit or as complimentary freebies. At the time I'd been more interested in the 'main' purchases and just kept shoving them in the second draw down.

I might have a minor aversion to half a zillion buckles and bows on my creatures, but they had their uses in the short term. I grabbed a few straps from the pile and tried them around her thighs and calves, too thick, not long enough, just right. Once I had the four leather bands in place, I used a thin piece of cord to join a thigh band to calf band, loosed the earlier restrains then hauled on the cord till the two bands were touching. One of my padlocks slipped through two convenient 'D' rings and voila, one bent and secure puppy leg. Ideally, I would have preferred to replace the two straps with one larger and wider one at this point, but I didn't have anything suitable. The two smaller ones and the robust lock would have to do in the short term.

She was wriggling and writhing again now in as much as she could and making those unintelligible noises once more. That bent leg didn't look to be all that comfortable to me, and I am a hundred per cent certain it didn't feel so to her. Tough. I loosened the straps by one notch and used my little finger to check underneath, plenty of room - no danger of cutting her circulation off. One padlock didn't look all that secure to me even though they were top quality, but the other 'D' rings were in the wrong place. No problem, I cut a short length of cord, threaded it through both of them till I had a triple length and tied it off. I was never a Girl Guide or a sailor, so to me, a knot is a knot, and no one was going to undo that clump without the aid of a knife!

I repeated the first stage of operation 'dog leg' on the other side, checked everything again and then stood back to contemplate the next phase of the procedure. There was no way she was going to be able to stand up now. Like Beauty over there, her days as a human being were over-bar the sudden arrival of the US cavalry and I couldn't hear a single bugle call, nor did I expect too!

Elbows or knees next, I considered? Logic dictated to carry on with what I had already started, so I grabbed another handful of straps and set about organising her forelegs. I only needed one pair of straps for this as I was able to loosen the wrist cuffs a little and move them back a little so that they matched up with the straps I used on her upper arms near the shoulder. Two more locks and some cord and puppy was now beginning to exhibit a delightful resemblance to 'Poor Penny' minus the puppy suit.

Only one thing left. I vacated the stable for a minute to retrieve a tub of talcum powder from my bathroom. I'd considered oil or grease, both available near to my workbench but decided that apart from the mess they might degrade the old rubber quicker than I would want, so impatient as I was, I went to fetch the talc.

I gave each of my DIY 'rubber stump sox' a liberal dusting inside and then for the next five minutes the two of us played a vigorous game of heave-ho as I stretched the old rubber over four reluctant 'make-shift puppy limbs'. I was out of breath by the time I'd finished. So, I think was puppy from the desperate, futile struggles and silent screaming plus her butt was now vividly marked with half a dozen angry red imprints from the flat leather tip of my crop. That had calmed the little bitch down enough to allow me to finish my work.

After a minute so when I'd caught my breath, I hauled the little beast back over the leather pouffe, she'd sort of collapsed sideways off it during our struggles with her new paws. I'll admit that I wasn't overly happy with my wicked handiwork, the front ones were a little loose whereas the rear ones perhaps too tight. I checked the hind legs ones a couple of times with a finger. OK, maybe have to keep an eye on those, but unless they obviously are causing a problem, they'll do for a few days maybe. Before I went to bed, I'd be back online with a couple of special orders to my favourite fetish company. I would pay for express delivery so perhaps no more than three or four days before we got to do it all again. Hmm, I was reasonably sure that getting her into a full suit would not be all that easy. However, by that time I intended that there should be a noticeable difference in Miss Puppy Dogs behaviour which ought to help!

I was about to release the little bitch from off the pouffe when I remembered something else. I changed my mind about the pictures. Beauty had seen hers so why wait till this evening with this cute little animal. Let her not be in any doubt from the start. i.e. now, so that when I walk her on her new stubby legs over to my house later, she will know exactly what sort of creature she is now in my eyes. Give her an idea of what kind of behaviour might be needed is she wants to keep my 'toy's away from her sensitive hide! Anyway, if her response is similar to that of her friend, then it will add to my fun!

I only had four images to lay on the ground just in front of her view, but they were more than enough to get my message across. The first was a colour photograph of a puppy girl on hands and knees crawling to heel behind a pair of glossy black high heeled boots and long shapely legs. A lead stretched upwards from her collar to a gloved hand; another gloved hand negligently held a short-coiled whip. The owner was mostly out of sight bar lower legs, boots and gloves hands but the message conveyed by the image was obvious and reinforced by the 'photoshopped' additions of a few whip marks to the puppy's thighs and rounded white rump!

The second was a black and white drawing of a 'Dalmatian bitch suited' puppy girl on elbows and knees, a stick in her mouth trying to scamper with some haste back to her young mistress in the background. There was no inscription, but again the meaning of the image was reasonably clear. I noticed that the first picture hadn't registered but the second one did. Suddenly there was an attempt at violent movement, all limbs and an anguished muted howl from her gagged mouth, more than one howl, a whole series of rather frantic panicky muted wails by the sound of it. Oh, how delightful.

I lifted my right leg over her and seated myself firmly on her back to hold her in place while reaching forward to show picture number three. Now we were into the 'Poor Penny' series, my puppy girls' prototype. I liked picture three, it set off all sorts of delicious feelings in my hungry clit, but the creature underneath me didn't give off the same vibes. There was Poor Penny in her puppy skin on all fours; her mouth buried deep between the legs of her owner as she entertained her mistress. No doubt giving her all and conscious of that long wicked looking cane with its tip weaving circles in the air above her. A rod that from the marks had already made numerous impressions on her firm buttocks peeping out through the cut-outs in her bitch suit.

I reached forward and patted her lightly on the head. \"Its OK little puppy, you will have lots and lots of fun once you get used to your new life. Look\" I exclaimed placing the fourth and final picture. Wow, rodeo time, talk about 'bucking broncos! What's the name of that kids' game, Buckeye, Buckroo or something? You know the one I mean. Yeeeeha! The little bitch tried to heave me across the room. Initially, there was nothing but as she took in that image of Big Butch enjoying himself on top of a strapped down and helpless Poor Penny. That picture was a full-size A4 frame in full colour and left nothing out. Butch's big red doggy cock and knot, Penny helpless, face a mask of horror as she was penetrated, the malicious mirth on the faces of the two female observes, old and young! No wonder the little animal reacted as perhaps the full reality of her new role hit home!

Chapter 11 - Feeding and Planning,

Yep, you guessed it. I was comfortably sprawled in my computer chair slowly my nibbling on a plain chocolate digestive biscuit, open packet conveniently to hand as was yet another mug of coffee. Decaffe this time although I doubted it would make much difference to my metabolism - still way too wound up by recent events and a tad tired out from struggling with reluctant animals.

Beauty had been 'settled in' for the very first night in her new home. The first of hundreds, possibly thousands she would spend in that simple narrow stall. I'd first walked her over to the 'wet' area, not without a struggle, but a mixture of my dragging the reluctant but helpless creature plus the application of my riding crop to one rump cheek had accomplished that short journey. I'd decided that for now, I'd let the crop 'tickle' one rump as needed to gain her cooperation in the short term. Her other I would leave pristine ready for the stable cane when I started the first real lessons in serious obedience training!

Initially, I'd been a bit annoyed and irritated by her stubbornness, but that soon turned to humour once I'd secured the animal to a fitting on the tiled wall. I was unrealistic to expect instant obedience anyway wasn't I and where would the fun be if that was the case. I fully expected and hoped that the obdurate attitude would continue to exist for a long time to come so that I could fully savour the process of breaking her spirit - fun for me, painful and humiliating for her.

My good humour returned once I started to clean her up a bit. I wasn't fussy about it either, there would be longer and much more intimate grooming and cleansing sessions in the future but for now I just wanted her legs de-shitted, so I used my hose pipe and a long-handled semi-stiff brush. Poor thing, that water was quite forceful and damn cold, and there was no way she could avoid it.

Squealing into her gag and dancing around on her hobbled legs she got quite a soaking and gave me a good giggle as she tried to avoid the deluge. Most of the muck quickly washed off, but I couldn't resist giving her a quick scrub with the brush as well. If nothing else, it was yet another practical example for her of what life was going to be like and the absolute power and control I wielded over her. Once again, she was desperately trying to communicate with me, but I totally ignored her and anyway despite all the water flying about I was enjoying the spectacle and did find it all quite amusing. Less so that I also managed to get myself soaked in the process. Gonna have to refine the washdown process a wee bit!

I gave her a quick rub down with a clean coarse cotton towel. I suppose I could have left her to dry off naturally as it wasn't all that cold in the old stable not with the heating on, but I felt the urge to handle her again a bit more intimately, so I rubbed, squeezed and felt while she continued to squeal and struggle. I made sure her feet and lower legs were quite dry so that most of the muck and loosely scattered sawdust on the concrete floor wouldn't stick, then I walked her back to the stall.

Easier this time as some more of the fight seemed to have gone out of her. I yanked her head down to give her hair another pummelling with the towel and then drawing my riding crop from my belt used it to point down at the shitty dump she'd made earlier still nesting in a bed of damp sawdust. Naturally, she'd stepped over it when leaving and re-entering the stall. \"Next time animal,\" I said giving her a mild swat on the thigh. \"Over there at the side of your stall\". I gestured and gave her another swat a shade harder to emphasise my point.

Once again there was movement and a seemingly endless torrent of muted sound from her which of course I ignored. I just gave her a cold look then turned my back on her and left the stall. I was back a moment later with a bucket and a small hand shovel. She was still trying to communicate and staring angrily at me which was good. I just ignored her and made something of a meal out of scooping up her 'dung' and putting it into the bucket then raking things smooth again with the edge of my shovel. This, I thought to myself was a very symbolic moment. The animal and its owner and the animal I noted had suddenly gone both quiet and very still. I picked up the bucket, raised it to my nose and sniffed deeply then winked at her. \"Essence of ponygirl eh Beauty\".

The noise and movement had then again started immediately as I went to ditch the contents of the bucket outside. Was it my imagination or did all that muted noise now contain a certain discernible degree of panic? Well, too bad if it did I thought. I didn't just show you those pictures for fun, well I suppose I did but also to get a message across. A very simple message. Welcome to a whole new reality animal!

Still ignoring her pathetic attempts to communicate with me when I came back, I checked her leg hobbles and the chain securing her to the wall of her stall. Satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, I turned to more mundane aspects of ownership. I.e. that of feeding and watering. That presented a slight problem as I would have to remove her gag and no doubt that would unleash a torrent of verbal utterances none of which I particularly wanted to hear. I wasn't in the mood. I considered for a few moments. Teaching her to eat would, of course, be another aspect of the fun and breaking in process. She would have to get her head down into her trough and eat whatever I gave her plus I would expect to see a completely empty trough when she'd finished, or she'd feel my severe displeasure. The question for the moment or two questions, was I in the mode to start her education in pony eating etiquette and if I wasn't, did I need to get some sustenance into her given that it was now some time since she must have last eaten?

I made my decision; she was a big healthy animal wasn't she so another night without 'solids' was unlikely to cause any significant problems. She might be a bit weaker come the morrow, but that was all to the good for the moment. Anyway, the diet I had in mind for her wasn't exactly going to involve a huge degree of chewing. Those big healthy looking but nicotine stained teeth would not be sinking into red meat any time soon. Mush and suck would be more the norm for her!

I would need to get more liquid into her though to prevent her from becoming dehydrated. I thought about it for a second. I could add a bit more substance to that, but the problem of the gag remained. I'd made my mind up that I did not want to hear anything from her. She was an animal; in time she would learn, my whips and canes would teach her that talking was a complete no no! Perhaps it was some physiological thing on my part, some lingering guilt complex?

She spoke English, and I did not want to hear one single comprehensible word from her, not that night anyway. Nor did I want to start the 'heavy' stuff on her. Eagar as I was to begin, I still had other things to attend to, and it was not the time, nor was I in the right mood. The crack of the whip, swish of cane and scream of ponygirl would start on the morrow when I was bright and fresh, and she'd had her first night to start coming to terms with her new life.

Yet another visit over to the house. I returned a few minutes later with a mixer bowl and my green rubber ear douche. Yes, that's right. I tend to suffer from a build-up of ear wax from time to time so following some advice from the practise nurse at my local medical centre I bought a small bottle of medical grade olive oil then via eBay something that looked like a bit like a female douche but designed for ear use. It was made from thin rubber about the size of a tennis ball with a nozzle at the top. Basically, you put a few drops of olive oil in each ear, leave it overnight to soften the wax and then bend your head over a hand basin full of hot water. Immerse the ear bulb, squeeze out the air then blast the hot water into your ear canal, repeat a few times. I found it worked a treat although if you overdid it, you tended to feel dizzy and best to stop at that point.

Ok, if there were any brownie points going for improvisation in such situations, I'd be doing pretty well I thought. Had I something like a baby's bottle maybe I could have used that, but I hadn't and once again was having to come up with a solution to a problem on the fly. I was fixated on not wanting to remove the gag in the animals' mouth, but I needed to get some liquid and nourishment into it. My attempt with the water bottle hadn't been too successful the previous night, so time to refine the technique.

Took about ten minutes but worked quite effectively. I first had to haul in the slack on the chain that secured her collar to the wall so that her head was hard up against it hardly able to move and then I went and fetched an old chair to stand on so that I could conveniently access her mouth. I flipped open that little plastic piece at the front of her gag, dipped my green bulbous device into my mixing bowl to suck up some of the contents and the proceeded to feed the beast through the opening.

I won't say it was completely plain sailing, but we both soon got the hang of it. She'd had that gag in her mouth for quite a while now, but It wasn't by any means the biggest I could have used, probably why she was still capable of making those loud but indecipherable noises. It was solid but once you flipped open that little round door at the front there was a circular channel about a centimetre in circumference right the way through to the other side specifically to pour liquid down. I inserted the nozzle down through that aperture and squeezed the bulb, too hard at first and nearly choked the poor thing. Once the first bout of choking and spluttering was over, I tried again with a less heavy hand.

I can't say that she was enthusiastic about the operation, but then she didn't have much choice did she. There was only so much leeway left in the chain so trying to pull away from me didn't work. That green rubber bulb just followed. Trying not to swallow didn't work either, I just nipped her nose with my other hand. She choked again a couple of times of course which was inevitable if you try to breathe through a mouth full of liquid mush. Eventually and sooner rather than later she decided that co-operating was the most accessible avenue open to her, well probably the only one. I released my grip on her nose and concentrated on feeding her.

I giggled again a time or two. I recalled seeing pictures of suffragettes on hunger strike strapped into a chair and being force-fed with tubes pushed up their nostrils and down into their stomachs. Compared to that this was quite civilised wasn't it? I doubt Beauty appreciated my keen sense of humour, but anyway she was too busy swallowing her supper. It took time, way longer than I thought but down it went.

I have to confess that although my fantasy preparations had been quite thorough in some ways, there were apparent gaps. Food was one. I hadn't given a thought to feeding beyond certain basics-healthy, bland, repetitive. This was a stable after all not a five-star restaurant, and I'd never heard of animals getting much variety in their diet. I recalled that the scraggy cat we'd had when I was a kid lived its entire life on the same brand of cat food. Now that I thought about it I wasn't sure if that was the cat's preference or a lack of imagination on my mother part. Evidently hadn't done it any harm as I recalled for it must have lived for about twenty years.

I wasn't sure and indeed did not care if Beauty was enjoying her first meal. Her eyes sort of bulged a bit, what I could see of them through the head harness but that might have been my imagination. They were wet with tears and still outraged - that I did note. You'll look a bit more docile soon I thought once I'd applied the stable cane a few times.

It was all going down anyway, and I was soon chasing the last remnants around my mixer bowl repeatedly squeezing the bulb to vacuum them up. OK so it wasn't the most exciting meal she'd ever eaten, but it wasn't revolting. I'd tasted a spoonful myself first. Of course, I had, I'm not that cruel, well I probably am, but I didn't want the bitch throwing up in the night and choking on me did I. Better leave that plastic piece open just in case and maybe loosen the gag strap just a smidgen.

My impromptu meal was mostly liquid anyway. I'd used two sachets of instant porridge with twice the suggested amount of hot water, added a generous amount of cold fresh milk and a liquidised 'going brown' banana. All good healthy stuff that should keep the beast fed and hydrated through the night and as I said not necessarily that unpleasant. Bland yes, boring yes, but certainly edible.

Dinner over I cleared away my chair and loosed off her gag slightly then the neck chain. How loose I debated with myself. As before so that she had only a limited room to move about or longer. Did I want her to remain on her hoofs for the whole night or did I cut her some slack, literally, so that she could lay herself down? I measured off a longer length of chain and adjusted the catch. Softie I thought to myself. OK, well I did want her nice and refreshed for tomorrow when I make her sing and dance for me don't I? I eyed the distance to the stall door and decided to add a second chain just for my peace of mind. Neither of them would allow her to reach the entrance and there was no way she could undo the catch if they did. However, early days and I wasn't taking any chances - no harm in taking the belt and braces approach.

Once again, I had the intense urge to reach out and start stroking and fondling helpless pony flesh. My pony, my flesh, mine to do with as I wished. She must have been telepathic because just as I was lengthening the chain and adding the second, she retreated into a corner of the stall as far away from me as she could get. \"Going somewhere?\" I grinned at her as I snapped the padlocks on the second chain closed.

There was no escape. I pinned her in the corner and ignored the pathetic attempt to kick out at me. I even giggled again. I suddenly had this mental image of slapstick comedy. Beauty lashing out one long shapely leg in a high kick and dragging its supporting hobbled partner along with it. Bound to come back to earth with a bump I thought. Still, better to ensure I avoided such actions. Beauty might well end up on her rump, but I certainly didn't want to lose my front teeth should she succeed in getting those long, muscular legs airborne!

I grabbed a handful of the chain, wrapped a few turns around my wrist and pulled it tight through a supporting wall loop so that once again her head was held firm against the wall. More than firm my less than gentle tug on the chain had caused her head to bang against the wall quite hard.

Interesting, she was way bigger and stronger than me but with her arms pinned in that binder, collared, chained and hobbled I could handle her far more easily than I'd anticipated. That boded well. She was also probably fearful and in a state of shock, and no doubt would display more strenuous signs of life and aggression once she snapped out of that.

I reached out with the other hand and ran a flat palm over the smooth leather that tightly covered her flat belly. I let my hand linger feeling her body warmth then I ran it slowly upwards to those oh so temptingly big soft hanging udders that were begging me to stroke them, so I did. Heavenly, was I a secret lesbian? I don't think so; I felt no desire for her as a woman, no physical attraction that way at all but the high I was getting was undeniable. It came about I am sure because she was so deliciously helpless, the soft, warm flesh under my hands and I could do just as I wished, absolutely anything to the this...this creature!

From one erogenous zone to another my hand slid slowly down onto the warm leather of her corset and then further, off the leather and over warm, smooth, soft trembling pony flesh once more till my fingers brushed that large hairy bush covering her mons. That initiated a prompt return to life from her, muted protests, flecks of angry spittle and drool flying about and frenzied movement. I prudently withdrew dropping the loops of chain. I'd come to a decision. That coarse bush was definitely going to have to come off. That was my twat now, and I wanted to see it, I wanted it on view 24/7 and anyway, how could I stuff my various toys up there if I couldn't even see the target area?

Time to leave. I won't deny that I wasn't sorely tempted to linger and play some more, but I had other things to attend to and tomorrow was going to be a whole new day of fun and games, so I didn't want to get too far ahead of that fixture tonight. I exited the stall, closed the doors and turned to lean over the top one to blow her a kiss. \"Nighty night ponygirl, sleep tight, don't let the bugs bite.\" I turned off all the lights in the stable as I left bar the one above her stall so my wall camera with its little blinking red light could keep an eye on her overnight. As I departed, I could hear the muted sound of her feet stamping in angry frustration in the dirt. I walked back to the kitchen idly wondering if there were any bugs in the stable. Bound to be a few creepy crawlies I suppose, not my problem though.

I took another sip from my mug and glanced down at a scrap of paper near my mouse mat and then back to the monitor screen. I repeated the action, best to double and treble check when you are about to spend this much money, I told myself. Sheesh, keeping human animals certainly didn't come cheap. Well, on reflection I suppose it did. It wasn't as if I'd had to buy the damn bitches in the first place. I was still all 'a tingle' from just running my hands over Beauty. Gosh, if I were to tout the animal around the Middle East or somewhere, how much could I get for it?

I glanced down my order list and then for the umpteenth time down the lengthy list of measurements for the 'special' items. Gawd, made to measure the cost of that puppy suit dwarfed everything else by some margin. Still, gonna be worth it once I get the little bitch into it and I was paying a very high price for their ultra-fast tailored service plus special speedy delivery. I glanced over to the cluttered kitchen side of the large room.

\"Raven\", I shouted as a movement distracted me. \"Leave her alone, off, away.\" I made as if to get out of my chair, and Raven prudently decided to scuttle out through the open door to my rarely used front parlour. Front parlour, now there was a by-gone term from another age if ever there was one. His muzzle reappeared as he peered enquiringly at me through the partly open door. I snapped my fingers and pointed. \"In boy\" He scuttled away out of sight, probably to his private den between the old sofa and the bay window no doubt to sulk and chew on one of his many toys.

Raven was young and curious and so naturally when I had entered earlier dragging my reluctant and struggling new puppy on the end of a leash his interest had been kindled. Dragging was probably the appropriate word for our short trip betwixt stable and kitchen. I'd hooked one of Raven's spare leashes on to puppy dogs' new collar and using my crop encouraged her to take her first...well waddle would be a more appropriate term than walk, around the stable.

It was actually quite funny, and I'd had yet another fit of the giggles. Her coordination was all to pot and that coupled with a few swift swats to her rear tended to put the brakes on rather than lead to forward locomotion. However, with a little more encouragement from the crop plus my getting impatient and starting to pull her along we made progress as she began to move on elbows and knees in that head down attitude her restraints forced her to adopt.

I found it all quite cute and so sexy that the juices started flowing again. The sight of this helpless little bitch down there at the end of the leash I was holding frantically trying to move and avoid another stinging swat was quite delicious. That puppy, that thing I had created was actually a fellow human being - once, but no more! It was mine, my very own creation to do with as I pleased. The immense feeling of power made me feel giddy. I flicked out with the crop. That little derriere wiggled so delightfully, and I hadn't even begun to use any significant pain on it yet!

Once safe in the kitchen I led her over to a vacant floor space near a window and tied the leash off on a convenient old metal hook. No idea what it was there for but being an old building, there were all sorts of similar oddments sticking out of walls in various places. I chivvied the enthusiastically barking and prancing Raven into another room and closed the door, not that it kept him out for long. Interesting, I noted that my new puppy appeared genuinely terrified of him - that would add an extra degree of entertainment to the cruel scenarios I had in mind for later on I thought if my evil plans came to fruition.

Twenty minutes or so later I'd fed and bedded Beauty down for the night and was back on my computer logging into my specialist equipment suppliers website and browsing through the fantastic range of products on offer, for a high price! I sometimes wondered how on earth they stayed in business? Yes, they did charge premium plus prices, but then the quality, materials and workmanship were excellent, and the range was vast. Surely though there could not be that many pervs in the world prepared to indulge themselves at those prices?

Puppy play was evidently quite popular as they had a whole section devoted to it. I hadn't paid much attention before what with my fantasy being so focused on the 'pony play' pages. They had plenty of good stuff though and interestingly lots of the pictures this time featured more women than men, unusual as I'd mentioned before they tended to go in for somewhat macho six-pack types modelling their restrictive products, almost always hooded or masked. I wondered if the models were also a bit masochistic because some of that stuff looked quite painful to wear!

I'd reduced 'Fluffy' to tears when I took her measurements. Fluffy! OK so not very imaginative but it sort of came to me when we had 'walkies' across the yard to my kitchen. I was looking back at her and thinking what a sexy bit of fluff she was, and it sort of went from there. I am also something of a Harry Potter fan, and I recalled that Fluffy was the name of the three-headed dog in the first book. Well, I now had a two-headed dog, a human head and a puppy head that just happened to be occupying the same space at the same time.

There were some fantastic doggie suits to choose from, and you could get them in a range of colours and textures and with a whole variety of openings and fastenings. Decisions decisions. If I hadn't been in such a hurry, I'd probably have spent a couple of days making my mind up and no doubt fantasising and masturbating at the same time. No need to masturbate now, well not for much longer cos I would soon have a puppy tongue to use albeit probably quite unwillingly.

Anyway, as with Beauty, there would be plenty of time to chop and change if I wasn't happy with anything. Neither I nor my two new little pets would be going anywhere so plenty of time to play and experiment with different outfits. I made a note of the one I liked. It was a sort of dalmatian one only the spots were fewer and bigger. Just for a moment, I wondered if I should change her name to Spot but decided against it. Fluffy was much more feminine and more in line with the sort of role I envisaged for her.

The texture had also been an important choice. Some of those puppy suits were so shaggy and hairy that looking at the attendant pictures you'd almost believe some of those depicted were real dogs. Maybe those that were heavily into consensual puppy role play big time would go a bundle on them but not me. I wanted visible curves and feminine shape. I wanted something that was recognisably a 'human' girl but rendered helpless via the puppy costume. I wanted thin, smooth, stretchy figure-hugging material, tight-fitting and snug, but to feel oh so sexy when you stroked her in it.

The other big thing, of course, was that it would have to last! Not just a case of a couple of hours of bedroom play or the occasional evening outing to the local fetish club! That's what I liked about this German company. Boy did they charge premium prices but from some of the comments and descriptions, the stuff they manufactured did the business. Once on the little bitch would be wearing it 24/7 and it wouldn't be coming off not till it fell to pieces. She'd have a second skin that she'd eat, sleep, crap and be bathed in no different to any real dog, so it was gonna have to be pretty darn tough and escape proof!

Well, the blurb said they'd guarantee the suit I was buying for six months continuous wear. Six months! I'll bet that's never ever happened before, but it's about to so we will see. I giggled aloud. Not quite sure how I would make a claim - dear sir, I just happened to kidnap someone and forced her into one of your doggie suits, and it only lasted six weeks, please can I have my money back. PS: please don't tell cops!

A little earlier we'd had a bit of a one-sided fight when I went over her with a fabric tape measure to take a range of measurements. I won easily of course and didn't even have to resort to using the riding crop, but I did deliver a couple of satisfyingly meaty spanks to her cute little rump, boy did that feel soooo good. I'd printed off the relevant form for her puppy suit, very convenient to have all the required measurements listed-and there were an awful lot needed for the bespoke ones. I could have bought a cheaper(ish) ready-made one, but I wanted something that would fit the little bitch like a glove, a nice tight one!

Her passivity had lasted until I took the final measurements when my eager fingers reached for her bra straps. I'd been saving this final titbit-excuse the pun! I didn't bother with the catch but just wrenched each shoulder strap from its stitching on the back strap and ripped away the last item of 'human clothing' she'd probably ever wear. Sort of symbolic I thought.

Of course, that re-started the pathetic struggles and muted noises but, sheesh, I mean you'd have thought by now that the total helplessness of her position would be sinking in? Hell, there is not a whole lot you can do about anything when you are down low virtually at floor level, butt naked to boot with your arms and legs doubled up and tightly bound plus having a sizeable lump of hard red rubberised plastic filling most of your mouth!

I suppose I would have done the same in her place. She'd seen the pictures, and she knew what I was doing to her and what I intended doing to her. Yup, I would have struggled as well. But I wasn't the one down there, she was, and I was the cruel bitch relishing the moment and getting ever wetter at the thoughts of all that was to come.

\"Quiet, still\" I shouted and gave her another meaty slap on the rump, this time hard enough to leave a faint red palm print. That made her buck, but it did serve to quiet her movements although she was making faint whimpering noises. She was trembling when I rolled her onto her side so I could get a good view of my latest treasure. Oh, so nice. Teeny tiny titties but such perfectly formed conical little mounds.

\"Mmmm, nice\". I reached out to fondle but changed my mind and withdrew my covetous fingers. Business before pleasure, so I quickly took the final couple of measurements and added them to my form. Once done l would be free to have a nice little play but I took my time. Cat and mouse and this pussy was going to enjoy the tasty little rodent. I suddenly giggled again. Well, perhaps I should put that the other way round. The little mouse would certainly get to taste 'pussy' wouldn't she?

I stood up and returned to my pc, took a sip of lukewarm coffee and carefully transferred all her measurements to the online order from. Check, double check, final check on the order and then on to the credit card details. I confess I was a touch uneasy now. In the past, I'd had nothing to fear from giving my details to this company. Indeed the only problem might have been some overzealous customs official deciding my fetish items broke some puritanical import law.

Hardly a major crime though, confiscation of goods and maybe a fine for repeat offences. Now I thought with these two beauties to hand everything had changed, and I had a horrid moment where an image of dank prison cells and clanging iron doors fluttered once again across my consciousness. Idiot. That company already has all my details anyway so what difference is one more order going to make. Anyway, given the sort of stuff, they make you'd have to assume that total discretion was a major factor in their business plan. That did set me pondering for a moment or two as I sat idly looking at my monitor without seeing it. I wondered if I was their only customer with a dark secret? Were there any others like me out there?

Interesting, I clicked through a few webpages re-examining photos. Hmm, quite a few six-pack guys but not all, a few were definitely on the porky side. Likewise, the few female ones and the one thing that had now piqued my interest. Not a single photo showed a face. Bits yes, eyes, mouths, noses peeking out of hoods and harnesses but not one single recognisable whole face. Again, likewise those corsets and harnesses, etc. No loose-fitting leather outfits here to prevent tell-tale marks on the models' bodies. No glossy lipped top shelf cuties in slack fetish gear. Now that I looked closely, I could see how tight and restrictive some of that gear was. Maybe that and the lack of features was all part of the marketing but whoever had dressed those models must have been fairly ruthless with many of those buckles and straps.

I shook myself out of it. Pure fantasy and I had more practical things to attend to. I cast one final careful glance over the order form. Beauties hoof boots? They did have a bespoke service for those, and I'd considered going back to the stable and taking some measurement but decided against it. I liked the idea of hoof boots and those made to measure ones were exceptional both in quality, design and of course price particularly those in what they called the 'lifetime' range. Measure twice, thrice, purchase once, lock on once, and your pony is hoofed for life said the blurb.

Lifetime? Were they kidding? Those boots certainly ticked a lot of boxes. Apparently with use they'd mould to the wearer's legs like a second skin but still allowed the skin to breathe. The realistic hoofs were fitted with steel horseshoes (or hard rubber for indoor use). The blurb did state that almost all owners preferred the steel ones both for practicality and for the more 'realistic' animal sound made by the creature wearing them. They were replaceable anyway if they ever got to worn down. Sheesh, how long would it take to wear out steel or even a hard rubber horseshoes with a bit of occasional ponyplay?

The main thing I'd noted about this companies' boots was that they were not the impractical sort you almost always see depicted in fetish art or photos sort of like six-inch stiletto platforms minus the heel with models teetering on tiptoe on the front hoof portion! They did have some like that, but the blurb made it clear that they were only suited for short term bedroom fetish play and photo shoots, etc.

I knew there were lots of boots like that available because I had a whole file full of sexy hoof booted ponygirl photos on my hard drive and numerous companies made them. Quite a lot in China I'd noticed. Gee, they are into everything these days. Yes, they all looked sexy, but for how long could you wear them? Yet again, great for a photo-shoot or a bit of hanky-spanky short term pony play but much more than an hour and you'd probably be crippling someone! Great for posing but I doubt you could walk very quickly on those relatively small pads let alone run and pull a cart or do anything similar!

The ones my German company made did at first glance look similar, but their design was much more sophisticated and practical. Less high for one thing and while they retained the traditional fetish shape the front part supporting the ball and front of the foot was longer and took a good deal of the weight. The heel was still elevated, but the way the front hoof part was set back so much deeper allowed the upward curve to fully support the arch and heel so that all though the latter was still raised there was a lot of support for it so that it could play its full part in supporting the ponies weight. Much more so than with a traditional high heeled shoe because the smart design meant the heel had a lot more stability.

They were a sort of cross between the fetish hoof boot and one of those ugly 70's platform shoes but with an infill between the front and the heel of the latter. They still looked the part though, very sexy, very fetishy and Beauty would still be going up in the world and enjoying a whole new sensation when moving! They wouldn't, of course, be as comfortable as the trainers her feet had previously been used to, but I was confident that these would be wearable 24/7 without too much discomfort and more importantly ensure that she was still fully mobile - with a bit of practice and 'suitable' encouragement of course. I felt a little flutter and kick from down below. Oh, so much to look forward to, so much to dampen the gusset in my panties!

Since I had last looked, they'd added a couple of short video clips of the boots or similar to the website. A ponygirl was doing some dressage exercises on the end of a long lunge line; she was moving pretty niftily for the out of camera shot person controlling her with line and cracking whip. Two ponyboys are pulling a light cart down a dirt road with a girl perched on top cracking a whip to urge them on, and they were also shifting or trotting very efficiently. Nice, sexy. They were interesting new additions since last I'd looked at this page, and I played them both a few times and was a trifle disappointed to find that there were no more when I browsed more pages. I made a note to check back as there were a couple of notes saying videos pending on the page with all the saddles, carts and other related stuff.

I'd opted for a pair of ready-made ones in Beauties size. I hadn't been one hundred per cent certain in my mind about footwear for her. Sure, those boots would be great and serve to reinforce the animal role I had cast her in...but then I'd always had a bit of a thing for high stilettoes heels, as long as I was not the one wearing the uncomfortable things of course. I had a final ponder.

Hmmm, those long legs would look great and so sexy in high heels, nice eye candy but again we would be moving away from the dehumanisation process and were they really suitable for dirt floors and the sort of activities I had in my nasty little mind for her? Nope. I made my decision and hit the send button. I did seem to be developing a penchant for female flesh but if I wanted a bit of painted up, leggy, high heeled, glossy top shelf magazine fluff, I could always go find a third toy, couldn't I? Whoa, girl slow down! I'd fantasised about getting just one, acquired two...so don't now be a greedy little bitch. You haven't even played with the two you've got yet.

No time like the present and those newly uncovered little titties were soooo cute and perky, just begging for a fondle and a squeeze. Cute with a capital C! Maybe I should pop out and buy a lottery ticket this week? My luck was indeed running sky high. Two adorable animals now in my 'tender' care and not a single hitch as far as I knew. Talk about good fortune. Hell, given my growing lust for what I'd wanted I probably would have settled for some wrinkled old homeless bag lady. Instead, I'd acquired two top of the range creatures for my wicked pleasure.

I glanced over towards Fluffy who'd been starring continually at me with those big green, moist sad puppy eyes. I wondered what she was feeling. A stranger in a strange land and now so helplessly caught up in such a bizarre and terrifying experience. What must be going on in the brain behind those frightened anguished eyes? What questions, what emotions?

Fear for certain. Fear, I reflected, an interesting and unusual emotion. Fortunately, not one which we experience all that often in our daily lives. Not real fear. Yes, we might be afraid we will miss our bus or our flight and similar, worse fail an exam or lose our jobs, but that's still not real fear is it? Not the sort of deep-down gut-wrenching fear little Fluffy must be feeling now as she looked at me.

I met her gaze and looked calmly back at her. I wondered if I should smile, stay impassive or try and look cruel. Did it matter even? Did I care? No, not really. That, that creature over there poised so pathetically on its elbows and knees, so helpless, that thing that I had created and brought so low, that which once had been a human being but no longer was, no, not in my eyes.

I suddenly yawned which surprised me probably much as it did her. I was tired, inwardly I was so wound up with all that had happened and with what I'd done and once again it was fatiguing me to a certain extent. The effect of that yawn set her off. Her body shook, and she suddenly started blubbing big time her whole-body heaving, shaking, quivering and even muffled as she was, I could plainly hear the muted whimpering sort of sounds she made so high was the pitch. I surmised that when I'd looked at her and yawned it had hit her as to just how indifferent I was to her suffering; just how insignificant she was in my eyes and with that had faded any hope that somehow all of this nightmare would somehow come to an early end.

I stood up. Well, she was right I suppose in one respect. Our relationship if that were the correct term, certainly wouldn't be coming to an early conclusion. It had barely even begun. Insignificant? No quite the opposite. Little Fluffy there was going to play a very significant part in my life. Indifferent, perhaps? I'd feed her, groom her, use and enjoy her as I pleased...but as to her...we'll she was merely an animal, my animal, now wasn't she?

I'd fed and watered Beauty so now time to fill a couple of bowls and do the same for this little bitch and poor neglected Raven, then maybe a turn or two around the yard with both of them to see if she needs to do her business although I doubt if she will. Then.... then I think I will select a nice leather paddle and maybe even a cane and we will both retire upstairs early...to play!

Chapter 12 - Everythings's going my way.

Oh, what a beautiful morning.

I couldn't get it out of my head; you know how it is when some completely random tune or song pays you an unexpected visit and then decides to take up residence. It popped into my head as I headed for the bathroom needing an urgent early morning pee. I found myself sort of half humming and half singing the words. Well, it was the morning after the night before...and boy what a night!

\"Oh, what a beautiful mornin'

Oh, what a beautiful day

I've got a beautiful feelin'

Everything's goin' my way\"

Can't remember where it came from, one of the Rogers and Hammerstein old musicals, Oklahoma, I think. I had a vague memory of watching a video my mother received as a Christmas present a few years back; she was into that old movie musical stuff. Not that it mattered. The song or at least the few lines that had somehow managed to survive my decidedly 'non-musical' nature had lain dormant till now.

I had woken slowly and been contemplating a long lazy lie-in given the lengthy erotic nature of the previous evening's activity. Activities that had resulted in my dropping off to sleep drained and one zillion per cent sexually and sadistically satiated. Oh, boy, what a fantastic night!

However, one of the fundamental requisites of nature had abruptly elbowed my lazy aspirations aside. i.e. my bladder was not inclined to join my slothful mood and bladders don't have snooze buttons! I couldn't roll over and ignore it, and anyway, I now had extra responsibilities hadn't I, so I'd jolly well better get up and start attending to them.

Gawd, I thought staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Face, zombie, reminding of, hair, hedge backwards through dragged and for heaven's sake stop yawning like that you've just had the most beautiful sleep you've probably ever had thanks to little Miss Fluffy puppy dog releasing some of those pent-up frustrations for you!

I felt a twinge of guilt at that, last night I hadn't been kind to her, very much the opposite. I certainly must have had a lot of pent up frustrations, and a whole lot of them had emerged without any restraint last night - good job I didn't have any near neighbours. I wondered if Beauty out in the stable had heard all those screams?

A quick sponge over the face and a few other parts and I began to look marginally less like the bride of Dracula. To hell with a shower. Too damn lazy. I reached for the cotton bathrobe behind the door and then thought, 'what the hell'. I'd left the bed starkers, and I wasn't going to be showing anything to that little bit of fluff in the bedroom that it hadn't seen already. Mmmm, another morning and maybe I would have that lie-in plus perhaps a bit of early morning 'relaxation'.

Fluffy was where I'd left her late last night, and by the smell of it, she'd had another accident. Her leash was tied off to the radiator pipe, and she lay half curled up on her side atop the 'bed' in the corner I'd made for her with a couple of old duvets. She sort of whimpered at me and cowered back as if she thought that somehow, she could melt away through the solid brick wall behind her.

\"Morning Fluffy, sleep well puppy?\" I tossed off casually and then promptly ignored her as I rummaged in dresser and wardrobes.

I spent some time getting myself ready for the day, a day that if it was anything like the previous night, was going to be so entertaining and exciting and I had every confidence that it would be. Fluffy had been a bonus. Admittedly a handy one but today would be spent in slaking my long-standing desires and fantasies with my own helpless ponygirl. The bonus of course now was that no matter how randy I became and I already knew that I would get very randy, very randy indeed today, and in days to come an excellent source of relief was now available....if a touch unwilling - no more vibrators and self-stimulation for me.

I took the time to brush my hair and apply a little makeup. I didn't give a shit as to how I looked for Fluffy but for Beauty that would be different. Fluffy would see me every day (and night) as I was warts and all and I certainly wasn't going to bother getting 'dolled up' every time I felt the urge to have that little bitch between my legs! Too much trouble, way too much and I knew that from now on I'd be getting randy at all times of the day and night.

Beauty, however, would be different, and I fully intended to start as I meant to go on. I wanted a contrast. Stark contrast. I would be the owner, her owner, always well dressed, clean, scented, feminine, and fresh from my warm, comfortable bed and bathroom. I was her owner and human. Beauty, on the other hand, was owned, and an animal, confined within a spartan stable stall, harnessed, restrained, naked, smelly, befouled and entirely dependent on the whims of her elegant owner.

An owner who had absolute authority and commanded via thought, voice, rein and whip whereas Beauty was a mere beast that bore the marks of the whip, obeyed instantly without thought and had no voice other than the irrelevant sounds of a mindless animal. The difference between us and our respective lifestyles would be vast, and that gulf would never be bridged, nor would there ever be any compassion of compromise on my part.

The fearful subdued whimpering from the corner continued as I dressed. I suppose this was another contrast. Here I was now clad in expensive almost new black glossy riding boots, skin-tight stylish two-tone riding breeches, smart sleeveless crisp white blouse, not to mention my black lacey bra and panties. The creature blubbing quietly in the corner was stark naked apart from the leather collar, corset and homemade little rubber puppy legs. Legs that were by now probably extremely uncomfortable, perhaps painful.

Yes, another delightful contrast. I was the one in total control, dressed and dominant. She, on the other hand, was the dominated one, who had been dressed in what little she had by me, reduced to a crawling cur and lay there whimpering with her little backside a mass of red, black and blue, bruised and bloody flesh. The implements that had done the terrible deeds still near to hand. A long thin bamboo cane was dangling by its curved handle from my bed headboard and a leather paddle with a wooden core lay on the nearby bedside table.

Yes, my nasty little toys had delivered a very firm first obedience lesson and now remained carelessly yet strategically placed before her eyes should she choose to look. Toys that she had only begun to get acquainted with. The first of many that she would share a close relationship with, some more intimately and others with a painful bite!

In retrospect, I probably had got a teensy bit carried away.... that thin whippy cane a bit of a newbie mistake on my part had cut her up a bit too easily, must use a thicker one and not get so carried away unless merited in future. Anyway, I reflected, the lessons delivered last night would undoubtedly linger till tonight when I was sure to want some 'loving' attention from her again.

Yes, that smell was getting stronger now. Fuck, I thought. I'm gonna have to air the bedroom before tonight and probably have to get my latex gloves on again! Who knows what I'll find over there, well from the smell I kind of know what I'll find? Puppy house training I decided was going to have to feature quite high on the 'to do' list in the coming days.

I left her to wallow in her stink and soiled bed. I'd deal with her after I'd fed Raven and myself. All the fun and games the previous night had made me feeling decidedly peckish, unusual because I was not a big breakfast eater. I went down to the kitchen still singing softly to myself.

\"I've got a beautiful feelin'

Everything's goin' my way.\"

Well, that was indeed true. Everything certainly was going my way and listening to the news there was absolutely nothing to indicate otherwise. My animals had disappeared through a black hole into my private galaxy, my personal heaven and their living hell. I chuckled. Their matter was not so much anti-matter, more a case of no longer mattered!

Raven and self suitably fed I dumped my coffee mug and dirty dishes into the sink. One advantage of living alone especially if you were a lazy bitch like me. I tended to 'batch' wash up every couple of days. To be honest, there had been times when I'd gone as long as a week, only being forced to act due to an empty crockery cupboard.

I contemplated whether or not I should do something about Fluffy's bottom. I hadn't exactly spared the rod last night and from what I'd glimpsed of her rump this morning, it looked rather colourful and probably very sore and tender. Not so much fifty shades of grey as fifty shades, of red, Blue, purple and black!

I'd made a resolution and then immediately broken it. The first night, first time for both of us, first of many many nights of wickedly perverse fun, better take it easy. Well, it had been perverse, (very) and fun (for me), but I had got a little bit too enthusiastic. Well, I suppose I could excuse myself if the little bitch had been even a little bit more cooperative - her own fault then, she wouldn't have such a red hot, blistered, sore ass this morning, would she?

It had started of course when I'd fed her and watered her. I suppose I should have done something similar to what I'd done with Beauty earlier. I was in a hurry though and hadn't the patience to go through all that hassle again. I grabbed a couple of Raven's bowls from the cupboard under the sink, picked up his water dish, rinsed it under the tap and refilled it.

I opened a large tin of doggie chunks in gravy, one of the cheaper supermarket own brands. Usually, as much liquid as chunks but you gets what you pay for don't you and if you don't pay much! I decanted about two-thirds of it into Raven's bowl then added a couple of large handfuls of his favourite doggie bix mixture. The remaining third I decanted into a wide chipped earthenware bowl. Changed my mind, didn't want the little bitch cutting herself on those edges so junked that one and found a stainless replacement, sluiced the dust-out and tipped the contents of bowl numero uno into bowl numero duo.

Indeed not the most appetising looking dinner, Raven might have thought so, but I doubted if little Fluffy would feel the same. Too bad, just like Beauty she was going to have to adapt to a whole new diet. Not that I intended to be ultra cruel and feed her just that, well maybe I would be at times if she did piss me off big time at some point. A quick rummage through my refrigerator (must give that a clean out some time soon), some cooked pasta, half a small tin of baked beans and the last pre-cooked chicken leg from a pack of four.

I chopped at the slimy pasta with a knife, ripped the chicken off the bone in small pieces and then added everything to the mix, gave it a few swirls with a wooden spoon. Voila, din dins! Oh, come on, better that than doggie chunks on their own? I even gave it a dash of salt and pepper! Can't say that I would have eaten it but then I didn't have to did I?

Raven, didn't raise any queries regarding the standard of cuisine and plunged his muzzle straight in as usual. Fluffy on the other hand was nothing like as enthusiastic as I dragged her over to the feeding area, it took both of my hands on the leash plus a few sharp kicks to get her moving.

She'd been watching what I'd been doing, I'd seen out of the corner of my eye. I held up the now empty tin of doggie chunks for her to see and gave it a little waggle running my tongue slowly around my lips as I did so and making a rather rude slurping noise before tossing it into the trash can.

Neither of us was in any doubt as to what I was going to require next - my wicked anticipatory grin colliding with her wide-eyed look of horror.

\"Now now\" I chided. \"You'll like this, nice puppy chow and we'll get rid of that nasty old red ball muzzle from your mouth. Din dins and then you can thank me later to show me how much puppy girl loves her nice new generous owner.\"

I'd no idea how much she understood, probably very little beyond the visual, but then it didn't matter. As with most owner/pet conversations most of it if not all was for my benefit, not hers. Thinking about it, her lack of English would be a bonus for me. It meant that she would be no better than Raven over there and she would learn just like him. Learn to respond to the tone of my voice, my mood and to those short commands that I would give her.

I bent down to pat her head and gave her soft hair a few gentle strokes, then unbuckled the gag straps, gently eased it out of her mouth and tossed it onto the draining board. I patted her gently on the back as she took a few heaving deep breaths and almost choked. \"There there puppy.\"

I must admit I was tempted to retrieve the thing and stuff it right back where it had just come from! Even the greedy Raven was startled enough to temporarily abandon the last few mouthfuls in his bowl and look up with a startled expression. Talk about noise.

It was a good job; my nearest neighbours were a couple of miles away. Twenty-four hours of pent up silence exploded out of her mouth like the vocal equivalent of Hiroshima! Screams, shouts, shrieks, vociferous incomprehensible verbal babble plus about half a ton of saliva! I caught the odd English word, 'Fucker' was probably the most frequent within the tirade. Presumably, I was some East European equivalent of a 'motherfucker' or similar or worse!

I let her rant on for a couple of minutes to get it all out of her system. It made no difference to me after all, and whatever the little pup said, the same applied to her circumstances. She was the one cowering naked at my booted feet, and I was the one holding her leash!

Eventually, she had to stop for a breather. I was quite impressed. The little bitch could be quite strident. Raven might have some competition when she started barking, yapping and howling for me in the not too distant future.

\"Finished,\" I asked sweetly. No answer required as I used my left foot to shuffle Raven's water bowl across in her direction and picked up her dinner bowl placing it down on the floor near her head, then as an afterthought picked up my discarded riding crop off the kitchen countertop. I was probably going to need it I figured.

\"Drink\" I ordered hauling tugging her head over in the direction of the bowl. I'd slopped some of the contents when moving it, but there was plenty left. Anyway, once she was trained up a bit, I'd use her obedient tongue to lick those sort of spills up. \"Drink\" I added again, this time bending to force her head down to the bowl. The more exercise her tongue got in this fashion, the better life would be for me I reasoned.

I think she was caught in two minds - thirst versus the sheer indignantly of being forced to drink like an animal. I wacked her rump hard with the crop to help simplify the choice, and she immediately yelped so delightfully. Sheer music to my ears, the first totally un gagged sound one of my animals had made for me. Delightful, so much so that I gave her another just a teeny bit harder.

She must have been extremely thirsty because she got her cute little snout straight into that bowl without further protest and lapped away for quite some time occasionally pausing to take a breath and to stop her self-choking and spluttering as it got up her nose. Once or twice I gave her a little gentle assistance courtesy of my right boot on the back of her neck, just a mild bit of pressure to remind the creature who owned her!

Once she appeared to have slaked her thirst and lifted her head, water still trickling down her chin, my boot foot nudged her food bowl towards her. I gave the leash a quick tug and gestured towards her dinner with the crop. She didn't seem particularly enthusiastic, so I gave the leash another couple of short, sharp tugs and whacked her ass again, hard!

This time there was substantial resistance to the 'appetising' meal in the bowl before her. Unfortunately for her, I did not have the patience to play games. I just grabbed a handful of her hair and rammed her face down into the mixture, held her for a second or two then released my hold.

She jerked upward spluttering and coughing and yammering something at me. I caught what sounded like a couple of no's but by that time I was repeating the dunking processes at one end and using my crop on the other. Twice more we went through the same routine until she finally bent her head and I heard her slurping the food into her mouth. Once again, I used my right foot to gently press her head down and hold just for a brief second. I was in charge, not her. If I said eat, she ate, period!

This time I would be gentle or rather not too demanding. In future, though I would expect to see a spotlessly licked clean bowl. If I couldn't see my blurred face in the shiny steel bottom, then her puppy muzzle would get rammed straight back in to finish the job plus her arse given a reminder that she must not spurn my kindness.

It was all so cute, pussy tingling cute. Once or twice she sort of choked and raised her pretty head from the bowl to draw a couple of deep rasping breaths. Once she even looked up at me in such a delightfully pathetic way with her dinner smeared all over her features. Oh, my goodness, my sexy little bitch puppy, so so adorable with those big moist eyes, the bits of pasta, chicken and gooey chunks daubed around your mouth. Yes, my pet, look up at me, your Mistress and owner towering so far above you, petite I may be, but you have fallen so low on the scale that you barely register and count for nought!

Somewhat to my surprise by the time she'd clearly had enough, she'd eaten a lot of it possibly as much as two thirds. I mused for a moment as to whether I should make her finish it off but decided against it. The ever-hungry Raven was hovering nearby, and I think she found him unsettling. I wondered if she was thinking of the pictures, I'd shown her but decided probably not. I think it was just an ordinary sort of fear he was a big beast after all and in her present position she was entirely defenceless not to say even smaller almost and certainly at a lower level in more than one way.

Ironic perhaps, she was more afraid I suspected of doggie teeth than hot red doggie cock, but she'd learn that the odd bite would be the least of her problems. However, that little titbit was for the future and for now it was entirely my needs that the little bitch was going to satisfy, and my needs were far more pressing even than Raven's insatiable hunger.

I briefly thought it might be amusing to leave the pups face all soiled then remembered where that face was soon going to be! I didn't want greasy doggie chunky bits depositing all over my pussy, so I quickly wiped her clean with a tatty damp dishcloth. Then leaving the delighted Raven to finish off the remnants of her supper I hauled her reluctant little body over to the staircase and gave her the necessary encouragement to start struggling upwards. My hunger now was not for food, and I didn't give a single thought to my having a quick snack or anything. Beauty was fed, Fluffy was fed, Raven was fed, but my immediate desires were focused on only one significant part of my anatomy, and it wasn't my stomach that was craving attention and satisfaction. The puppy had just lapped up one meal, and now she was going to lap a whole lot more!

If I'd thought progress on the straight and level was slow then our going upstairs was virtually at a standstill. That was partly due to her total inexperience, the enormous difficulty she faced anyway in trying to climb the stairs trussed as she was and my sense of humour. I was in hysterics. I'd dragged her up the first couple of stairs, whacked her ass a few times to get her moving, but it was just so? Well, cute wouldn't even come near to describing it.

It was adorable in such a deliciously hilarious way. The waddle, the struggle, the panicky effort she put in every time I threatened her with the crop. It was so funny, and of course, she couldn't keep it up but eventually rolled over, stubby legs waving helplessly then slid back down to the bottom, bump bump bump.

Incy Wincy spider climbing up the spout

Down came the rain and washed the spider out

Out came the sunshine and dried up all the rain

And Incy Wincy spider climbed up the spout again

Well, she was supposed to be a puppy, not a spider, but the old poem came immediately to mind after our second attempt failed at the fifth stair. Funny as it was, I was also fast losing my patience especially with the other activities I had planned on my mind. Our third attempt was more successful chiefly with me getting my fingers firmly under her waist corset then part lifting and part propelling her upwards aided by her own pathetic efforts. Fortunately, she was not all that heavy, the old staircase not too steep and her stubby little front legs did scrabble for footholds.

I hadn't bothered to put the ball gag back deeming it superfluous for the time being. Once again, I was treated to a somewhat hysterical Eastern European monologue as we progressed slowly towards my bedroom. The puppy was certainly in full voice; well make the most of it little bitch cos very soon all you are going to do is go woof woof and howl...and the howling starts tonight!

Maybe once she got her proper suit, and we'd had a lot more practice at 'walkies', we'd have an improvement. Heck, no need to worry about her escaping if she was left loose. At present speed and agility, it would take her about three weeks to get as far as the nearest public road, and that was assuming, she even made it down the stairs without breaking her damn neck!

I kicked the bedroom door wide open with the toe end of my foot, dragged Fluffy through and slammed it shut with my heel. I was as randy as fuck and nothing, but nothing was going to stop me getting that little bitch's face between my legs, her face into my crotch and her tongue deep inside my lustful cunt. Nothing.

That was the theory, but in practice I had ready realised that there might be one teeny weeny snag. We might have a little attitude situation on our hands first might we not? Well, no problem, the right tools were to hand. I looped her leash over another of those ancient but convenient metal relics sticking out of the wall and retrieved the necessary items from a draw in my dressing table. I could have used the crop I suppose but why when I had plenty of other 'nice' little toys to experiment with.

I selected a nice thin ultra-swishy cane and a thick leather paddle. I held each of them up as I retrieved them making sure she had a good look at the 'toy's we were both going to play with. I flexed the cane once or twice and gave it a couple of swishes. Similar with the paddle all though with that I just smacked it down on my left palm a time or two. Big round frightened eyes from puppy plus a squeak every time it struck my palm.

Actually, I'd done it a fraction too hard because my palm stung a little. Well so much to the good, if those mild swats made my palm tingle, what would a few or more than a few real heavy whacks do to her plump little ass cheeks? A question that I would soon have an answer too.

The urge to plunge my hand down my pants and to start playing with myself was overwhelming, but I resisted. Why pre-empt what was surely not far away? I tensed and relaxed myself a few times. Patience baby, patience.

Having puppy girl down on the floor wasn't as convenient as it might be, I decided as I looked at her nor did I want to have to chase the little bitch all around the bed or the room for that matter regardless of how slowly she moved. I wanted a nice sitting duck of a target once I got going plus there were my other needs to consider. I needed her head and mouth available, and I didn't want to be sliding around on my bed as my wet cunt chased a fleeing mouth!

Not all my collection of fetish toys were out in the stable. I had a few in my drawer over there that I'd experimented with a few times while playing with my little pink vibrator. I found an adjustable spreader bar and a few lengths of special 'bondage ropes'. Don't know what was special about it other than they were bright pink and came in a cellophane package with a photo of a slightly plump blonde demonstrating the contents.

I unhooked Fluffy's leash, kicked her and then dragged her over to the end of my king-sized double bed. One of my first purchase when I moved back. The alternatives were the single bed in my old bedroom or my parents somewhat ancient one. King-sized? Well, to be honest, I'd succumbed to the high-pressure sales chat of a young sales guy with gorgeous eyes at the bed showroom. Couldn't resist his offer to bounce up and down together on it to test it out. I'm a sucker when it comes to buying things anyway, gawd knows how I'd be in North Arica or wherever when it came to haggling. Probably take a 747 to get my souvenirs home!

Ha, if I thought getting her from stable to kitchen and from the kitchen to the bedroom was difficult, then the fight I had to get her up onto the bed trumped both combined. She started yelling again at the top of her voice repeating what was probably a total negative in her own language. Also, she fought the pull of the leash like a tiger plus decided to throw her body from side to side as violently as she could.

I was sorely tempted to pick up that thin cane and let fly, but I'd made my mind up. I didn't want to stand there vainly trying to flay a rapidly moving target. I wanted as I said, a sitting duck but she was pissing me off. No more rubbish about one cheek at a time, she was going to get it full on both barrels!

I think the little bitch had a reasonably good premonition of what the next few hours might involve. Well, you didn't need to be a qualified NASA engineer, did you? I simply grabbed at her and heaved, pushed and heaved a bit more. Given the restrictions on her limbs she did put up a reasonable fight, but the struggle was always going to end one way.

By the time I'd got the leg spreader securely fastened to her upraised ankles I was both sweating and out of breath. I think both of us were the same except I wasn't speaking and making pathetic whining noises. I eyeballed her position on the bed, dragged her a bit further forward then used four of my garishly girlie coloured ropes. Two from the spreader bar to the low mattress retaining rails at the foot of the bed and two more from her upraised wrists to my bed head posts. That should hold her upright and in place with enough leeway to get her head down just where I wanted it.

TIME. Time to begin I thought eagerly. My little chicken was all trussed up and ready for the oven. I just needed to 'cook it' a little and then I could greedily satiate my new found lezzi lusts till I was bloated from the feast! I leaned over to give her head a few casual reassuring strokes which seemed to have the opposite effect very much. Not that I cared about that. I just enjoyed touching my little pet. I was also wondering what my next move was going to be. Did I pick up one of my toys and start to persuade a 'reluctant' tongue to cooperate? Or, should I get myself ready to receive such 'loving' attention first?

I took a moment to arrange my pillows so that I would be comfortably reclined and eyeballed the distance to her predominantly pink ass. Yep, I should reach that nicely with the last six inches or so of the cane when I needed to gee her up once I was in position. Yes, Once I'd turned that pink posterior a vivid shade of red, it would indeed need only a few touches of the cane to ensure eager compliance to worship at my randy honey pot!

My hot wet and eager cunt thus decided it for me. I quickly divested myself of boots, top and under clothing, kicking the pile of discarded cloth into a corner of the bedroom. I stood starkers leering down at little fluffy, my left hand working at my wet slip, the right hand now holding the paddle. I met her horrified gaze and slowly ran my tongue around my kips. I was hungry, and I'm sure she wasn't, but we both knew in that instant which of us would be doing the eating!

\"Nie, nie, no, please, I no girls, no girls, boy yes, no girl, nie\" she shrieked at me and it was probably the first understandable bit of language that had registered with me. Pity that it would also be one of the last. So, I'd been wrong little Fluffy, and Beauty were not like that after all. Just friends, maybe they came from the same place or school or whatever? Who gives a fuck anyway?

The tingle between my legs got stronger and wetter. OK, so much the better. Much more fun for me if she wasn't an experienced little clit licker after all. We would both learn together, wouldn't we? I wondered for a moment about myself. Had I changed at all? If little Fluffy down there was all dolled up in a sexy negligee, perfumed and in full on warpaint. Would I have the hots for her I wondered?

Somehow, I didn't think so. I genuinely didn't feel those sort of emotions. Yes, I lusted for her tongue, her helpless submission and enforced cooperation, the pain I would inflict upon her but not for her as a woman. I just saw her as a female animal, an animal that I would use for my pleasure whenever the mood took me, not a bedmate. I looked back into those big frightened tearful puppy eyes with not one iota of compassion nor the slightest twinge of guilt in me. I smiled, pouted a kiss at her then walking to the end of the bed, casually fondled her quivering buttocks for a few moments before I raised the leather paddle.

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