This story is copyrighted - copyright 2004 - by Lady Rixt and maverick (both pseudonyms) and provided for use on SirJeff's Ponygirls website.
Adult Content Warning!
This story is purely fiction and fantasy, in no way based on real life persons or situations!
This story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery. It could also prove highly disturbing if you think our current socio/political world view is the only one that exists. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Kirsten had been a much in demand ballet dancer for many years now, but for this kind of work she was aging. In the ballet-scene a woman of 28 is rather old and only the very best then could still dream of a continuing career and Kirsten noticed she wasn't invited as often as before, and to get invited on an audition she had to do more then her upmost to be still in the race for a ballet show.
That had been different when she still was younger, at about 14 or 15, at the top of her abilities. But it had been different in so many ways then, when her mother had still been alive, and arranging her life. If Kirsten sometimes thought back of that time, it had always been her mother telling her 'Kirsten do this, Kirsten do that!' It had been her mother who had organised her life, pointing out and stipulating what and when to do things. And, despite the feeling of being ordered around she sometimes rebelled against, she had liked it, not having to take decisions or have responsibility. Besides ballet she hadn't done much else, just intensive training, ballet-classes and more training, to stay in shape. School hadn't been her thing so she only had her ballet-skills to earn a living when she grew up. The only relaxing thing in her life had been horseback riding. Kirsten liked the smell and the feeling the horses gave her, the contrast of all the leather tack with the soft lace and crinoline that surrounded her in her ballet-life.
She even never had time for boyfriends, or interest in them even. The only ones she had had in the past were just because she too had certain needs of her own and because she wanted to be admired and appraised. But most boys had more interest in girls that were a little more curved and rounded, and weren't that interested in the thin breasted model-sized girly, that might just have well been a boy, from the appearance of her body. And even though her breasts were perky, the boys were more interested in the luscious ones other girls had. Besides, both ballet-dancing and horses too just weren't the most common interests for boys. Maybe, if one had been more like her mother and had given her life a direction like her mother had done, but that didn't seem to work that way. Guys wanted the independent type of woman she never was or would be.
No, Kirsten's friends were the horses and if she just had been able to buy one, she sure would have done so, but with her decreasing income she was already glad she could take riding-lessons once in a while in return for some simple stable-duties. But in fact she just was a bit to lightly built, to skinny for the heavier kind of work at the stables, so it was only grooming and sometimes cleaning out the stables. Only her legs were much better in shape due to her years of practice and ballet training. And she was a good runner, something she did on a daily basis.
Now the number of shows and auditions diminished she stayed at the manege more often, sometimes even being jealous of the horses. They had a good life after all, their daily food and water without the continuous struggle for life, taking discussions, having responsibility. Kirsten knew, with her lack of education there weren't that many chances to make a difference. But in fact, she knew her problem was being to much of a dreamer.
So, when she found the invitation for one of the most prestigious christmas-ballet shows, it was her chance of a lifetime, anything better then all those useless attempts and auditions: Surely one still knew WHO she - Kirsten - was!
During the audition it appeared it wasn't only about who would be selected for the show but even who would take the lead part. In most cases that part would have been given to one of the director's favorites, but this time it hadn't, it would be very much an honour to take that lead. All competitors, like Kirsten, did their utmost to be seen and noticed. And Kirsten knew this show might just as well be the last chance she would ever have to be part of such a big production. It was now or never! Either SHE would take the lead and be the chosen one for the show or her days as a ballet dancer just would be over. Maybe that's why neither Kirsten nor one of the other girls objected against the strangest of facings, equipment or rehearsals she had ever seen.
The girls had to wear kind of leather harness on top of their normal ballet dresses, a whole bunch of thin leather straps, enclosing their bodies, and were kind of tight. The dressing-woman had explained "Girls, just for starters, this will not be just a classic ballet-show, this is going to be a theater musical with ballet and dance to go with the story. So for this show you girls will play the reindeers of Santa, and will have to pull his sledge. To connect you girls to that sledge and get you rigged up you will need these harnesses. As you all know the reindeers do fly with the sledge, and so will you, well kind off. After the first opening-scene you girls will dance with the sledge behind you during the whole show. And it is our intention to team you up as reindeers would and make you all look those as best as one can! So just don't be surprised if things take another turn then you are used to." A couple of reins were attached to the shoulder straps of Kistens and the others harnesses.
It gave Kirsten a strange vibration in her stomach, a certain excitement she couldn't explain, when she, like the other girls rigged up with their harnesses, was teamed in front of the sledge to pull it forward, while dancing a show. Maybe, if there hadn't been so much at stake, Kirsten might have protested, but what do you do when it's the production of one of the most respected director of the era. Besides, it was the kind of idea Kirsten saw potential in: Say for yourself those normal ballet-shows weren't drawing lesser and lesser audience, and this idea at least had something new, refreshing and somehow even something exciting. At least, that was how Kirsten felt, though in the dressing room the other girls and certainly their mothers, had shown their disapproval. In between the scenes there was a lot of whinnying and complaining that this wasn't the way to treat the girls.
When Kirsten, being the only one not complaining, was invited to stay after the general part of the audition, her hart beat with excitement. While the other girls left she suddenly felt how the Director, someone she had worked several times with in the past - those had always been well 'kind of different' performances - came standing next to her. "Well my dear, I think I have found my leading reindeer!" and he gave her a glass, "Here, as to celebrate!" They toasted and Kirsten swallowed the whole glass at once, her throat had never been that dry, or had felt so relieved "She had the part!" She hadn't even noticed the wine had been a bit strange - had tasted a bit bitter.
The director and Kirsten chatted a bit, when suddenly, as through a hazy mist that seemed to spread around her, she noticed he had grabbed the reins, still attached to her harness. 'Must be part of it, but anyway, I have the leading part!' she thought in the rush of victory.
Through the haze in her head she felt how the director lead her back to the sledge by the reins. "Shall we crown it by showing me how very good you are at it?"
'It must be my excitement' and she ignored the funny feeling as if she was dreaming. Somewhere far away as if it wasn't happening to her but to someone else, she felt how she was attached to the sledge again. Soon after he let her pull the sledge, this time alone.
And Kirsten danced and danced. Round after round she pulled the sledge while he kept telling her, urging her, to stay on her tiptoes. At first it wasn't that hard, despite the weight of the sledge it run quite easy on the floor that was smooth as a mirror but after a while Kirsten started to slip more often. Until he made her take a halt.
"Maybe you can walk on these more easy!" he said while handing her a bunch of thin leather straps. As from a distance she saw at a second look the bunch of straps were in fact a pair of high sandal-boots, crosswise straps of the same white leater as the other parts of her costume, up to her knees. As in a dream Kirsten sat on the floor of the sledge and removed her ballet shoes, as he directed.
With the directors help Kirsten shoved the first of the white leather sandal over her naked lower leg - she had forgotten the put on her panties that morning when she had shaved her legs at the last minute that morning. Now she noticed those sandals were in fact just like ballet booties but one difference: They had gold-colored horseshoes attached at the forward side of the booties who were shaped as horse hooves, there were no heels and the aft side of her feet would remain completely free, no sole, no heel, no support! But the soft leather felt comfy while she shoved it up over her skin and also put on the other. Suddenly she realised the booties forced her feet in a slightly different position then in normal ballet shoes, not on her tiptoes but with her toes horizontal pointing forward, and with that the horseshoes flat on the floor, the rest of her feet almost straight upwards, without the support of heels. The only way to walk on these was to bend the knees a little and keep her lower leg slightly for-over, otherwise the booties would tumble backwards.
Urged by the director, Kirsten 'floated' round after round again pulling the sledge, not knowing she was more balancing on her horseshoes than dancing elegantly. She had difficulty to walk erect, the angle her feet made was just too unnatural when used to ballet shoes. But Kirsten danced, 'klikce-the-klack' her hooves klang on the floor. The director saw with satisfaction how she, though slightly bent over forward and using all her strength, continued pulling the sledge. He just knew for sure he had chosen the right reindeer. Because Kirsten already had so much difficulty walking she completely forgot to use her arms as a part of her movements. She just used them to keep her balance and her feet felt strange. While she continued her rounds the director seemed to be absorbed by his role as a reindeer-trainer, just using commands like 'step', 'trot', 'canter' and 'Stop' or rather 'Huuhhh', like one does to a horse. It felt a bit strange but familiar in Kirsten's mind .... those were the same commands she herself would use riding horseback. When the director made her stop at last - 'Huuuhhh'- she couldn't do other then bend over forward to release the strain in her ankles.
He looked at her in a friendly but matter-of-fact way while he asked wether she wanted to continue or just quit. And Kirsten knew somehow in her foggy mind that quiting now would mean loosing the chance for the role. And she was so happy with it.
Somehow, very far away, she knew this was the strangest weirdest audition she had ever done, but there just NO WAY she would give this up: Kirsten wanted this, not really conscious she had made her decision to take her chance and get this role, whatever he would ask of her! How dazily - far away - it might feel, somehow it felt so good, how weird it on the other hand felt. It was so distant, he treated her as the reindeer she was going to be.. and it felt good. She was the chosen one.
The words kept on forming in her mind, repeated again and again, despite her a bit sore twisted feet, it didn't matter. Other thoughts formed on the background too: for what it's worth, he had always been a nice bloke to work with, one a lot of girls could totally fall in love with, if it had not been a pure business thing. But a girl could always hope... So why wasn't she..? That wasn't the feeling or desire she had' She realised. 'This was.. something else..' Even in her dazed state she somehow knew, but only deep in her mind.
And so Kirsten didn't reject one bit, not even for a moment, when the director turned up with a set of reindeer-horns and put it on her head. With deliberate movements he pulled a few straps around her head and connected it to it, surely ruining Kirsten's hair dress. "Oh, before I forget, this belongs to the headpiece!" and he held a small shiny bit in front of her face, smaller but a complete resemblance of those she used to put on the horses she used to ride.
"Open up, my reindeer!" It sounded strong, willfully.
'No a reindeer wouldn't refuse the bit, SHE wouldn't refuse the bit. She was the reindeer, and a reindeer would need such a bit.
'A reindeer has a bit, this reindeer gets a bit between her teeth!' Kirsten dreamed and opened her mouth. The director pushed it in softly, but not taking a rejection for an answer, it found its place in her mouth, between her teeth and lips, she just played with it while tightened the thin leather straps under her chin, and connected it to her headpiece - 'Sure, a reindeer that belonged to Santa Claus, would wear a headpiece, how could Santa control his reindeer without. He would sure need one way to control them, tame them!'
Then from that strange distant, she wanted to get closer, why that distance, why that hazy distant. Why didn't Santa pull her closer by her reins, she was ready for it, ready to get tamed and become HIS reindeer, why did he wait?
Still, the fog in her head didn't clear, but somehow she managed to hear Santa's voice "Santa is ready for the next round, is his reindeer ready too?"
Again, with her hooves'klicker-the-klack' she pulled the sledge around, round after round over the mirror-smooth floor until he made her stop again. "Huuuhhh..." In her mind she completed his words 'Huuuhh... horsey', Noo.. 'Huuuhh... reindeer' she corrected herself, it just felt so great.. delicious .. well, kind off 'kinky'.
"Let me make this easier on you, your walks are so tottering now and besides it looks like you don't know where to hold your hands!" Kirsten realised somehow, through the daze, she had just used her arms to hold her balance instead of incorporate them in her - though still kind of rhythmic but heavy - dance. Parts of her knowing and understanding self was regaining conscience 'But reindeers don't have hands, a reindeer has hooves.. Let it go.. You're just a reindeer, let it happen.. Santa knows, let him decide..'
The director came up with something new, something with hooves and horseshoes. 'of course, a reindeer doesn't need hands, I won't need hands no more!' Kirsten thought dazed. Somehow from the back part of her mind it did became clear what was about to happen, with those front-legs with hooves and shoes she would take another step towards becoming a reindeer, look like one, less just playing one and more becoming one. Flashes of consciousness started through her head. 'She would become a reindeer! It felt so marvelous.'
Another thought, and her lips formed a few words, despite of the bit "But.. a reindeer's hooves are different, not as round..three parts.."
"Yes, you are right, but no one will notice! These are just pony-hooves, dear!"
Note from the authors: In the Netherlands we have another tradition next to Santa Claus. A Saint, or in fact a Bishop with black moors to help him, on a white horse from which the Santa Claus tradition has started in the US. Not something one can translate.
'The horse of Sinterklaas!, I am the horse of Sinterklaas!' Kirsten hummed while she, not really conscious, reached her hands out towards the director. 'At least Sinterklaas only has one horse and that horse will I be!' She felt her hand slide into the first glove/leg, the leather stroking her skin until her fingers slid into some holes inside the gloves. "Just put your fingers in the right hole, dear!" She didn't have to do it even herself, it was a perfect fit, her fingers encased in the hooves of a pony, they became one with the hooves. 'Sure, the nails of a horse, hooves are the too nails of a pony!' It seemed so right. With a single pull on a cord the glove tightened, locking her hand unremovable inside. Somewhere in the background of her mind Kirsten knew her hand now was no longer useful, locked away. 'But to what use would hands be to the horse of Sinterklaas?' There was another strap dangling from the glove she had no idea of what it might be used for, it didn't bother her. This felt so natural, this ponyhoove with the horseshoe. She couldn't wait for the other one.
While the director took care of her other arm, Kirsten just let the first front leg dangle down, it would never be long enough to reach the floor, 'Well, Sinterklaas would know how! He just knew everything, and he was giving such wonderful presents!' Now Kirsten's other arm had become a front leg and Sinterklaas bent them upwards to her upper arms and attached them to those bye the pulses with the remaining straps. "You really start to look as a prancing reindeer, dear!"
Santa told his reindeer Kirsten "Just bend a little over forward, a bit through your knees and your bottom backwards! That's right!" and clicked with her hind-hooves 'Klicker-the-klack' on the floor' From now on their was no way she could keep her balance with her arms since they were restrained. When she almost made a fall Santa attached the booms of the sledge very tight to Kirsten's harness, giving her a little support not to fall. Kirsten heard Santa say "So, this way you can keep your balance, my reindeer!" Although the tight harness seemed to take her breath she remembered one couldn't leave the singlet loose either.
"You know, animals, reindeers will never be able to stay erect, even prancing an animal just shouldn't, not even you my beautiful animal! You would be standing up against your owner or throw your rider to the ground if you did."
'Klicker-the-klack' trampled the Kirsten-reindeer her hind-hooves on the floor while her owner Santa Claus watched the result of his work, like one looked at it's horse and a thrill went through her spine. 'She had such a fine owner!'
"You should keep your cute little head a bit more upright, you should appear a proud reindeer, dear!" Kirsten-reindeer heard her owner Santa say, distant, as if it came from far, she could hardly hear his voice.
Reindeer-Kirsten 'klicker-the-klack'ed her hooves as proud as a peacock, this was wonderful, she had the most wonderful owner of the world and she was horny. This was so incredible exciting and kinky. She hummed 'I am Santa's pony' 'I am Santa's mare, the horny mare from Santa, I am the mare in heat from the finest owner in the whole world!. She kept humming and trample her hooves while pulling the sledge around.. The fog in her head started to clear up, but the feeling in her abdomen didn't, this was so marvellous.. wonderful.. she was a mare in heat and she had an owner. What did it matter, SHE had an owner as a mare in heat should have. Suddenly something - not even a very hard one, but nevertheless a bit painful sting on her buttock's with the long whip - brought her back to consciousness.
Her owner given his mare a correction, and she had just thought the long whip had been there just as an ornament previously. Kirsten realised she had been dreaming somehow, horny dreams and they felt wonderful. And she had not payed any attention to her owner. 'Her Owner!' She heard herself saying the words in her head. That felt 'nice!' A mare in heat just SHOULD have an owner, sure! Another stung on her buttocks! "Auuw!" Those were the first of a long series of stungs with the long whip.
"So you are back to life again?" It just was more of a statement the a question.
"Yes, my Owner!" The word had formed before she even realised. It sounded WELL!
Another blow, the thin leather cord weald her buttocks and her lower back though she had little protection from her thin ballet dress. "I told you to walk proud as a proud reindeer!"
And she had been thinking it had been a ornament.
"Please excuse me, I have been dreaming, my Owner!" Another blow, even harder now. But Kirsten made no attempt to protest!
"Are you always dreaming during rehearsals?"
"No, my Owner! But I just found out something weird and exciting about myself!"
"Why do you call me 'your Owner'?"
"I dreamed I was Santa's reindeer - then the horse of Sinterklaas, from the nicest owner in the world. Well, obviously I'm a reindeer or a horse, because I wear a harness, a bit and bridle, but I see no Santa, nor Sinterklaas, but one who is holding my reins, so he must be my owner".
"And, how does that feel, to be someone's - my - property?"
"Exciting, Kinky, good, as it should be! So.. May I call you 'My Owner'?"
"In your dreams, your thoughts, you may call me your owner, but be aware, neither reindeers nor ponies talk. Unless one would have special permission to talk from their owner, so when you are asked something, your owner obvious wanting an answer, like now! Then, and only then, you are allowed to answer and call me 'Owner', after that it's 'lips sealed!' reindeer!"
"Yes, my Owner!" Kirsten answered without hesitation , this felt good.
Silent, not speaking another word, and urged bye the long whip, Reindeer-Kirsten continued her rounds, pulling the sledge, 'Klicker-the-klack' her hooves sounded on the floor, sometimes a 'twack' from the whip and a silent muffled 'Auw!, but no protest whatsoever from Kirsten.
"You still don't keep your head high enough, you are a proud reindeer, aren't you?" Again a 'twack'
"Aauuwww!" and another! Again "Aauuwww!"
"You might have answered, reindeer!" Another blow.
"Aauuwww! Yes, I want to be your proud reindeer, my Owner!"
"Why is it, my proud reindeer keeps her head down?" Another blow.
"Aauuwww! I am sorry, my owner, the deer-horns are just so heavy!"
"I might give you a little something to help you out!"
"Oh, please, my Owner, if you could! Yes please!" She knew there would be another device, something that would restrain her further.
"Huuhhh! Just stay where you are!" and he walked away and came back with some sort of high neck-collar, like a neck-corset, which he wrapped around her neck and pulled tight. Kirsten asked herself just where it would end, his collection of restraining-devices seemed endless, not that it mattered. It just was strange, had nothing more to do with a ballet-rehearsal. It was just a reindeer- -or PONY-training, but it still kept her kind of excited! As a matter of fact she just wanted it to last, though the most of her arousal had vanished!
The neck-corset, or collar, encircled her neck, tight and enforced her to keep her head up high, the reindeer-horns upright, and she clicked her hooves on the floor. 'Yes, she was a proud reindeer now!' when the rehearsal and training continued. And the collar almost complete prevented her from speaking, holding her jaw pressed towards the bit in her mouth.
Only after another hour he gave her the signal to stop: "Huuuhhhh... OK, enough for today!" and he removed the connection to the booms of the sledge. "Shall we have a drink afterwards? At my place!"
While Kirsten, having difficulty speaking because of the collar and the bit answered "How could I ever refuse such an offer!" with the restraining gear in mind, she thought he would remove the rest of it, not just releasing her from the sledge. But he just did not make any move or attempt to release her.
"Let's go then!"
Kirsten's face turned beet red, she realised, as if flames burst out, heat spreading. He meant he wasn't going to release her from her bonds, taking her with him the way she was. That very moment Kirsten realised it sure wasn't over and done with yet, and knew she just would go along with it. "Just one moment! he said and walked away, fetched something and returned with a dog leash which he attached to her collar. 'An animal on a leash!' she thought, 'No, it wasn't over yet!'
"One might run for it, can't have a reindeer on the loose in the street..."
Pulled bye the leash, Kirsten followed the director, a bit tottering, trying to keep her balance despite the pulling leash. At least there was no one around at the parking lot and she was glad they reached his car unseen, no spectators. When he opened the backdoor of his minivan ans shoved her in, just capable to protect herself from falling on her face, with her bound arms. No seat for her! "Fasten your seat belts!" and with a swift movement he pulled her leash through an eyebolt and tightened it until she was forced to lay down on her elbows, front hooves nearly touching the floor. The reindeers-horns appeared to be in the way so, before he started up the engine, he took time to remove those, only those horns. The fire was spreading again, her hart raced. She no longer was a reindeer, or a ballet dancer, she was more of a pony, a mare in heat. 'And it wasn't over yet!'
After a short drive he managed to get her inside his house unseen. He must have noticed how her ballet-dress had shown some wet spots in her crotch.
"Take your posture like I told you before!" It sounded commanding and obedient Kirsten stood as he had taught her, slightly bent over forward, buttocks pointing backwards.
"Now, put your legs a bit further apart!" Again she obeyed, not even resisting one bit when he came over to her with another bunch of devices and started to restrain her further. First she got a spreader-bar between her legs just above the knees, a few leather straps around her lower-thighs. Another spreader bar connected from the middle of the first one to her collar. No way she would be able to became erect again.
For whatever reason he suddenly removed her harness she had been given as the first part of her outfit that day, while she just stood there, as a prancing pony, waiting.
Suddenly she felt a hand between her thighs, stroking and Kisten started moaning, when she suddenly felt a sudden tug, the sound of cloth being torn. 'Her best ballet-dress was gone!' she knew, then her tiny undee 'her last protection and piece of decency'. She moaned from excitement when fingers touched her cunt lips and one slid into her wet tunnel. There was just no way she could avoid humping against it. But he gave her no chance to come even close to an orgasm. She just moaned disappointed when he pulled is hand back.
Then there was something else, on her back, something heavier then just the harness, and it was pulled tight! 'Oh man! He was saddling her up as a horse!' Kirsten realised with a sudden shock, she knew very well how one does saddle up a horse and what would come next. 'He is going to take a ride on my back!' She was right, only a few minutes later he mounted her saddle. And though she was already tired of the previous hours of training, she had no choice other than obey her rider. 'But I do want it' she knew, 'this mare is taken for a ride.' The spreaders, though they appeared to be not as rigid as she first had thought, just giving her some support in carrying the weight, hampered her in lifting her feet, 'No way she could high-step this way' but she managed to find a way to walk around the table, her rider on her back, spurring her, urging her with his riding crop. After only a few rounds she sure was near exhaustion, she gasped for breath like a horse and he seemed satisfied. He dropped out of the saddle and let her catch some breath, just to start working on her cunt again. Again he let her near a new height of lust, just so close, so close 'She had to come! Oh, so close.' Just to withdraw and leave Kirsten disappointed and unsatisfied, she had been so close, wanting it's release so badly. When he started to caress her breasts, well it was not the same. Eventually, when HE was up to it, he finally took her, wild as a stallion taking a mare. There was nothing else Kirsten could have wanted more, she was the mare in heat surely was bred.
To be continued..
The original and full version in Dutch can be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dutchponyclub-veiling.