Amy was a ponygirl; that meant something particular on the island of New Lesbos.

Settled by Lesbian radicals from the Gay and Lesbian Kingdom of the Coral Sea Islands, New Lesbos was a recently-formed island, with few natural resources; there was no fuel for cars to run, so the only transport was an electric trolley line, and human power: in other places, they might be called ‘coolies’ but here they were ponygirls.

Amy was proud of it: it was hard work, and she did it well.

Amy herself was a tall, tanned woman, with a long mane of blond hair that tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She was lean and trim, no fat on her, but not anorexic either; all ponygirls were in good shape, if not when they started, they soon became so.

Most ponygirls wore little, and some even went naked; these Pacific climes were warm, and even on the coldest days, a working ponygirl easily stayed warm, while the natural desire of any ponygirl was to lose all the weight she could. Amy herself wore only a pair of tight black bike shorts, a cash pouch, light ponyshoes that helped her dig in with her toes when hauling, and the brown leather harness to which the shafts of her cab attached.

A woman in a black business suit walked up to her. “Susan B. Anthony street,” she said, pressing a few bills into Amy’s pouch. “Hurry!”

She hopped into the cab and Amy hurried off through the crowd of pedestrians and ponygirls.

Most ponygirls were independent operators, like Amy, but others were part of unions or private companies; she passed larger carts and wagons pulled by two, four, six, even eight ponygirls; some teams wore badges or even skimpy uniforms as they passed under direction of their drivers(when you had teams like that, you need drivers to co-ordinate them).

Then they reached her passenger’s destination; Amy couldn’t think why a businesswoman would want to there, but it wasn’t her business. “To the end of the road,” her passenger instructed, so Amy trotted to the end of the street; it narrowed sharply there, and other traffic dropped to nothing. “Stop here,” her passenger said.

Amy stopped gratefully, and the businesswoman climbed down; Amy started to back out, but the woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a knife: she whirled on Amy, slapping her hand to Amy’s lips and pressing the knife to her throat. “Be quiet, and you won’t get hurt she hissed.

Amy froze, staring wide-eyed with terror over her hand.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Trembling, Amy obeyed; she heard someone move behind her, then hands grabbed her wrists and wrapped rope around them, binding her hands together. That done, the hands trailed lewdly down her sides to come to rest of the waistband of her shorts.

Amy moaned helplessly.

“I said shut up!” her captor snapped, pressing the knife harder against her neck.

Amy trembled, but made no sound as the other woman slipped her fingers in the waist of her shorts and pulled them down her legs, then forced her to raise her feet, one at a time, and pulled her shorts free.

Her former passenger smiled at Amy. “There,” she said. “Isn’t that more comfortable? Now, I’m gonna take my hand away from a moment, and you are going to say silent. Understand?”

Amy tried to nod, and the hand was taken away.

“Open your mouth.”

Unthinkingly, Amy obeyed, and her own wadded-up shorts were stuffed past her open lips. She moaned helplessly: how could this happen? How could no-one see this? Amy tried to hold the wadding back, but her captor roughly stuffed the ultra-thin material into her mouth until her cheeks bulged and she could hardly breathe.

“Hold it in!” her captor ordereded. Crying, Amy obeyed. Her captor produced a leather panel gag and held it up to Amy’s mouth.

Amy shook her head and ducked away from it.

From behind her, her other captor grabbed Amy by her hair, making her cry again, and held her head still so her former passenger could finish gagging her; it had a wide leather panel that fitted across her mouth to hold the stuffing in, and long leather straps that went around Amy’s head; these were buckled tight, holding the gag immovably in place.

Some ponygirls wore mouthguards for protection, and most unions and companies required their ponygirls to do so. But they were disliked by many ponygirls, and so some companies and unions required their ponygirls to wear these panelgags so theye could not easily remove the mouthguards.

Her captor stepped back and looked over the naked, trembling, fearful ponygirl. “Well, that looks nice,” she leered. She put a hand out and grabbed Amy’s breast, making the captive ponygirl moan; she circled Amy’s nipple with a finger, then slowly ran it down Amy’s taut belly to her neatly shaven pussy. “Too bad we don’t have time,” she said wistfully, sliding her finger over Amy’s slit.

“Let’s finish it and get out of here,” the woman holding Amy rfom behind hissed impatiently.

“Right.” Amy’s former passenger sheathed her knife. “Let’s test the gag, shall we?” she said with a grin, then reached out with both hands and pinched Amy’s nipples between her fingers, pulling and twisting them.

Amy jumped and screamed, but even to her ears, she could hardly make a sound past her mouth-stuffing gag.

“Great!” her former passenger said with a grin. “Now the armbinder!”

Amy’s hands were untied, but both her captors held her arms still, and forced a black leather armbinder over her hands, then up her arms to her shoulders: Amy shook her head, helpless tears rolling down her bulging cheeks as they ran the straps across her chest and buckled them tight, then pulled the armbinder tighter around her arms, pulling her elbows together, forcing her shoulders bacl and forcing her breasts out. That done, they tied a strap to the end of the armbinder and attached it to her cab.

This too, was ponygirl gear; some ponygirls wore it to give them better leverage when hauling heavy freight.

Amy watched, helplessly, as her cash pouch was emptied and all her hard-earned money was poured into the thieves’ pockets. “Have fun!” her former passenger said with a smile, then they departed.

Amy stared after them, crying bitter helpless tears. Here she was, naked, robbed, bound and gagged, in public, and yet no-one would give her a second glance. By the time she had gotten somebody to release her, the thieves would be long gone.

At least they had left her unhobbled, she thought as she backed up.