It was a strange sound and I was having trouble placing it. My twin sister had invited me to the offices of the publishing company she ran with her partner, Joan. The modern building was adjacent to the house and barn on my sister's farm. After I arrived she settled me on the chesterfield in her office waiting room, poured me a cup of coffee, and said she would be back in about ten minutes with a surprise.

I could distinguish the stiletto high heels Dianne was wearing hitting the ceramic tiled floor of the corridor and I recognised the sound of chains jingling but the other noise escaped me. "Klick-klunk" is about as close as I could get and then it came to me. Think of a tap dancer walking normally in their shoes with the metal heels and toes hitting the floor and the sound fitted

Dianne appeared in the doorway looking fabulous in a short, fitted, leather mini dress and her matching knee boots but my chin must have dropped a mile at the sight of the vision she was pulling behind her with two narrow leather straps. I put down my coffee cup before I dropped it and concentrated on closing my mouth as I stood up.

Despite the outfit on her I recognised Joan and just looked at my sister for an explanation. "I don't have any secrets from you, Anne, so I wanted you to know what's been happening around here. You know Joan and I are equal partners in the company and it has been going quite well with me looking after the administration side and her reviewing and culling all the manuscripts and submissions we receive to decide what could be published with the chance of making a profit.

Besides the regular "mainstream" publications we also have a very profitable "off beat" division; at least until a few months ago it was doing well."

She pulled on the straps and soon had Joan standing in the middle of the room where I could study the full predicament she was in. Dianne continued, "I became suspicious when the profits dropped in our erotic field since I knew we had established a wide group of contributing authors. A few weeks ago I had a close friend submit a fantastic manuscript with a great story line and even original artwork. It was a sure thing but it never appeared in our production line and I knew I was right."

"I did all my homework and this morning slapped a whole bunch of papers in front of Joan for signature. Just routine I told her and flipped each page to the signature line without giving her a chance to read them. Then I poured her a coffee with a little something extra in it and locked her office door."

"Being a Saturday we closed at noon and as soon as the building was clear I used the wheelchair from the warehouse first aid room to get her over to the house. I've been working on her since she woke up in my tender care early this afternoon."

"But why this outfit?" I asked. "Simple" said Dianne "she was selling off some of the good stuff privately and pocketing the proceeds instead of sharing them with the company and the manuscript I set her up with was an ongoing story about pony girls that she was trying to sell to Sir Jeff for his website. So you might call this poetic justice."

I moved over to stand in front of Joan and looked into those beautiful blue eyes, framed on either side by 3" square stiff black leather blinkers, they were full of obvious discomfort and I wondered what was causing her the most distress.

Stepping back I started at her feet and closely studied her predicament. Joan's feet had been forced into tightly laced, black leather, thigh high boots. But the boots had no heels. Instead the toes were in the ballet en point position and ended in metal horseshoes about 4" across their arc.

The arms of the horseshoes extended flat on the floor for another 4" back and the soles of the boots must have been fitted with curved metal or hard plastic supporting strips because her insteps were held in incredible arcs. It was as if she was wearing 7" or 8" heeled boots without the heels.

A wide strap was buckled tightly around each thigh just above her knees and D rings on the inside of them were connected with about 6" of chain.

Her entire torso, from neck to hipbones, was encased in a fitted corset-like garment. It was made of leather and obviously heavily boned by the way it was holding and shaping her. The cups of the bra had 2" diameter holes and through them her nipples and the tops of her breasts were being squeezed like putty through a tube.

As I walked around Joan I could see why her breasts were under such pressure. Her hands and arms had been laced into shoulder high leather gloves but the hands of the gloves were stiffened fingerless mittens which held her hands completely flat with the thumbs in a side "pocket" of the glove.

Each arm had been forced up her back and the back of each hand was laced flat against her shoulder blades to eyelets in the corset. A strap across her elbows kept them touching and straps from the corset crossed each wrist. It was a wonder her breasts had not forced themselves completely through the bra cup holes.

There was a metal ring at the point of each elbow and they were connected with a small padlock. A strap from the rings went down between her cheeks, through her legs and up to the front of the corset where it was buckled.

"That strap is very tight", said Dianne as she saw where I was looking, "it has to be to hold in the 5"butt plug and 8" dildo I installed to keep her company".

"The pony tail sticking out is screwed into the butt plug and you'll see that I've pulled her clit through a slit in the strap; held it out with a small clamp and attached a 2" thin chain to the clamp with 5 or 6 fishing weights on it. As she moves the clamp irritates her clit but the weights bounce on the strap right over the end of the dildo creating an interesting sensation."

Joan's head was criss-crossed with the straps of a head harness and, looking closely, I saw that her jaws were held wide apart by what looked like a hard rubber apparatus pushed deeply into her mouth. There were two pieces joined at the back like an open clamshell with a spring-loaded hinge. The formed pieces fitted over her teeth with the bottom one holding her tongue down. It was attached to the head harness with D rings at the corners of her mouth.

The reins Dianne held were attached to rings at the end of the bit. This metal bar was about 5" long and 1" in diameter. There was a flange around the middle of the bit and it fitted into sockets in the top and bottom pieces of the gag in her mouth. The bit was also tightly attached to the head harness.

Just above the stretched top lip she had a ring through the septum of her nose and from it came a thin gold chain that passed through a ring on the flange of the bit and then split in two with a chain going down to each nipple. I wasn't sure whether the nipple rings were just clamped on or if they had been pierced. In any event the chains attached to them were just taunt. It was a variation of the martingale harness.

When she was being led from the front this would stop her pulling her head back and if her handler was behind then a tug on the reins would pull her head back with her nipples suffering the consequences.

Despite this Joan was constantly shaking her head and now I saw why. Her long blonde hair had been gathered at the top of her head and laced into a 4" long leather sheath. This caused it to stand up with the rest of her hair hanging out of the top of the sheath to form a headdress like a plume.

But, in what can only be described as vindictiveness, Di had left a forelock of hair then combed it down across Joan's forehead cutting it off so the bottom curl just reached the tip of her nose.

It must have tickled like hell and this, I knew, was what caused her the most discomfort and why she kept shaking her head. It was diabolical.

"So, what happens now Sis?" "Those papers she signed this morning sold me her half of the company, she has no close relatives and will just disappear. I've already hidden her car. Now why don't you come with us while I find her a nice stall in the barn since that will be her home from now on?"

There was nothing wrong with Joan's ears and as she heard this life sentence she jerked back against the reins in Dianne's hand. My sister just laughed and pulled the helpless girl towards the door. There she flipped the reins over Joan's shoulders and pushed her ahead into the corridor.

Dianne had a riding crop looped over her wrist and used it to raise a welt across the pony girl's buttocks that got her moving towards the exit.

As I followed them towards the barn there was just one thought going through my head and it was - please God don't let my sister find out that I agreed to have the Bondage Barbie story I wrote published by Doggers instead of her!