Casey:

As my stay approached one month I found myself becoming more and more accustomed to the harsh treatment that the staff was offering. Marie now had me crated nearly every night in the special box for Paul immediately after I had satisfied her. First I would be stationed between her legs. Then I’d be returned to my room where I’d be allowed a bathroom break before being inserted into the clear plastic cube. My jaw was propped open with a special harness. Then I was hooded with a sightless gold hood that laced in the back. My hair was formed into a ponytail and was forced through a hole in the top. A leather plug was inserted into my mouth. It was mounted to a muzzle made of red patent leather.

I still had to do the pony stuff too. Every morning I was expected to prepare myself in every way. I had to sit on that hateful machine that cleansed my insides every day. I had to insert the tip of my tongue into the bit and mount it to the head harness. I even had to put myself in the headstocks and allow Greg to put my arms into the binder.

I started seeing Hugo again too. He was now watching the new girl, Christina. I got a chance to talk to them at mealtimes. During our very first conversation I discovered that Chris, as she liked to be called, was a bit more out of shape than Hugo was comfortable with. That would not go well for her.

Hugo was charged with getting her into shape. Over the next few weeks she would be put through a tough regimen of pony training and pet treatment. Instead of having three nights of two a day marches, she marched every day and every night. And if she wasn’t in harness, she was probably in her pet outfit, crawling to please Hugo or Marie.

I, on the other hand, was being groomed for my celebration of one month of service. It would be a hazing of sorts, Greg explained. There was little detail in their description of the event but I was certain to wear something very unusual. Well, I really didn’t expect otherwise.

The event was to be held in the evening of the last Sunday of the month. I had done nothing all day but stay in my room. I didn’t even have to do my daily march. In fact Greg didn’t even have me service him. He just came in around nine and told me to stay put. He’d bring my meals. To top it off, he didn’t even bind me so I couldn’t leave the room. I found that unusual because they always applied a restraint when they wanted me to stay somewhere. Greg didn’t even insist on a collar. Considering my past month’s treatment, it was very unusual.

All day long I watched a flurry of activity outside. The entire center diamond of artificial turf was transformed into a huge party area. Two stages were erected, a tall circular one in the center and a lower one in the rear. Musical instruments were placed on the later, obviously for the band. The center stage simply held a single waist high steel pole. The purpose of that device was fairly obvious.

At 3:30 Greg came to my room and instructed me to get clean. I already knew what he meant by his simple order since I had been given this order several times before. I first sat on the toilet and allowed the automated process to perform its disgusting task. When I arose, I used a douche and popped into the shower.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Hugo had arrived. It was now 4 p.m. Greg was now standing near a cart that contained a lot of unusual gear on it. Obviously the outfit was intended to decorate my body. I simply stood in the middle of the room and waited for their orders. I suppose it was my conditioning that prevented me from being surprised by all these strange items. I suppose that was the purpose of maintaining the extreme level of training that I had endured.

Hugo was obviously the leader and would apply the gear. Greg simply assisted. My role was that of subject. I was less than a slave. I was a mannequin. I was the clay for the artist’s hand.

The first task was to apply makeup. Everything about this session would be unusual. That included the makeup. It was all colored silver! Hugo started by forming my hair into a tight bun and temporarily holding it in place with a small clip. He asked for the silver goo. That’s what he called it. First he added a full tube of hardener and shook the can for two or three minutes. Greg assisted. He started at the hairline and began applying a thick layer of the substance. It was a little warm but not too bad. I watched in the mirror as my entire face was plastered with the material.

“Don’t be afraid of this stuff,” Hugo offered. “It is similar to liquid latex but it maintains solubility. In other words, a hot shower will wash it off. Nonetheless, I don’t want to get it into your eyes. I’ll do your eyes with traditional eye color. Now, you’ll notice in a minute or two that it will feel firm. This is normal. We’re going for the robot look. It will take a full hour for the material to cure to the point where I can bring out the shine. Now stand still while I do your breasts.”

After my breasts were coated, Hugo told me to open my mouth. “We’ll need to let the latex cure while your mouth is spread wide. Otherwise it will tear when we gag you later,” he offered. After explaining the reasoning, he inserted a large rubber pear gag into my mouth

In the end I looked something like the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz. The only difference was that I wore a silver latex suit instead of actual tin. It had a shiny look. Apparently the suit had been treated with several layers of silver colored lacquer.

My breasts poked through the twin openings and were surrounded by shiny silver rivets. Likewise my shoulders were encircled by rivets, as was the neckline. The suit ended at the waist where I could see flattened metal belt loops.

Additional silver paint was applied between my legs. Hugo used a rag to apply it. It was obviously much stiffer now. This allowed him to work the material up into the crack of my ass as well as my crotch. I can’t even begin to describe what his massaging felt like. When I groaned with pleasure he tilted his head back to look at me and smiled. I think he was enjoying himself. I certainly was having a good time.

To insure that I did not mess up the work he had done a spreader bar was attached to my wrists. I was left on my knees in front of the TV.  My arms were lifted to a point just above my head so I held them with elbows bent at right angles. A pair of thin chains attached my nose ring to the bar near my wrists and held my head up. I didn’t like that bit at all.

Some time later I found myself being presented to a crowd of elegantly dressed people. They were all dressed in the most outrageous fashions imaginable. Not one woman wore a heel less than five inches. Each wore some sort of tight choker around their neck. The women all wore leather from the waist down, either pants or skirts, and a silk long sleeved blouse. The colors of the outfits varied. None wore pure white. Many wore bright colors. The outfits were color coordinated. If someone wore red leather pants, the blouse was a shade lighter or darker, but always the same tone. The men were all dressed in business suits, although their jackets were of various pastel colors as well.

I would learn later that this was all part of a color coded ranking system similar to the martial arts belt classifications. This system consisted of five tiers with black being the highest ranking and green being the lowest. Basically, every two years a person would progress through the ranks by demonstrating their willingness to partake in ever more stringent and severe displays of bondage and discipline. Each couple would have to demonstrate a mastery of the arts and their willingness to partake in a series of stringent bondage acts. The couples would have to change roles and show an equal willingness to endure strict bondage and discipline. As the rank level rose, so too did the requirements to advance. Should a member refuse, the result would be a one year wait until another opportunity would arise. And since it took a full ten years of perfect service to attain the coveted black rank of bondage, every delay meant another year until that rank was achieved.

Thirty people gathered around the dais as Marie and Paul introduced their newly found slave, me. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Casey, our guest of honor!”

I was greeted with a loud applause. Everyone’s eyes were glued to my body as I stood on display for them at the edge of the platform. When the applause died down Marie signaled Hugo and Greg. They took me by the arms and led me to the post.

A large cart was wheeled next to the post. It contained all the gear which would be needed to mount me. This was an elaborate system of poles and braces and wires as well. First they bolted the twin dildos to a cross-shaped brace which ran up my back. My arms were connected to the ends of the posts with steel cuffs. A T-shaped brace was then attached to the bottom of the back brace and my legs were stretched until my ankles were secured in the waiting steel cuffs. A steel brank with a light fixture was inserted into my mouth and bolted to the back brace. Wires ran down my back and were concealed with carefully placed silver tape.  They added a steel band around my waist and twin hoops around my breast. They had a fluted design that seated well but allowed for the rivets to protrude from the outfit.

When they had finished I was spread-eagled with my head forced into an upward pose. Once they had me well secured to the post the entire assembly tilted my body forward until I was suspended at an angle severe enough that even with my head tilted backwards I was still facing down. That’s when the post started to rise. I was never so frightened of falling!

Suddenly I began to rotate. The light on my gag came on and I suddenly became a light fixture! People began looking at me and pointing. They began to play old disco tunes. I hated those songs when my parents played them. Now I had even more reason to hate them.

My torment didn’t end there though. Now the vibrators came on between my legs and it made me bounce. The light coming from my lips began to bounce. Reflective panels lined the edge of the dance floor. Colored crystals bounced the light from my lips and reflected it about the stage. Everyone enjoyed the experience. Even I was mesmerized by the music, the dancing, and the lighting.

I stayed on my post for hours. As the sky lightened with the glow of the coming dawn the party broke up. Two assistants came and lowered me toward the ground where I was removed from the strange frame. “You did well,” a voice came from behind me. It was Marie. I couldn’t turn around because of my bondage. I couldn’t smile because of my gag. But, I had done well. I felt like I had conquered the world!

There was a certain satisfaction from finishing a month of this treatment. First there was the challenge of enduring the torture of course. My body was physically tested to its limits. Every bone ached constantly from one sort of abuse or another. My feet hurt from the countless hours walking in heels. My shoulders and back hurt from the marches each morning as well as the nightly jaunts when they could fit the exercise in. Even my jaw and my tongue hurt from the various gags and tongue restraints. It was horrible.

I endured the torment because of one reason: money! I was now $10,000 richer than I was a month ago. It would be eleven months before I’d see the final reward. I couldn’t screw up now. A million dollars is worth the suffering. I was certainly capable of dealing with this for the remainder of the year. I figured that it couldn’t get any worse. They certainly could alter the treatment and probably would. But I couldn’t see how it could be more demanding that the torment I had been through.

The following weeks and months offered variances on the same theme. The theme wasn’t bondage as much as it was domination. It was the control factor that was important to them. For instance, I was often plugged and gagged in such a way to prevent any sexual contact. But they seemed to thrive on such situations.

As we progressed through the hot summer months we traveled more. I was usually paired with one of the bondage slaves, the ones who didn’t have a sexual requirement. The outfits we wore were always the usual leather jacket, leather pants, and silk blouse that hid the finely planned bondage gear underneath. We were also gagged with the simple tongue pads that were held in place by a bolt that pierced our tongues. And we all wore the ‘follower dildo’ to prevent us from straying far from our mistress. It was an ingenious setup.

Our destinations varied about the United States. Our owners were constantly looking for recruits at their various shops. Few panned out. They’d be subjected to the routines and kinks of the staff. They’d hold up for a week or two but then it would become too much. The request to leave would be granted at that point. I saw four girls come and go in as many weeks.

They did get one girl that hung in there. Her name was Olivia. She was a tall redheaded girl, at least six feet, four inches tall. I was impressed by her long straight hair and her long legs. They dressed her in a ponygirl outfit with gold hip boots and a red bodice of leather. It was awesome. Everyone seemed stunned into inactivity whenever she entered the room. All eyes gazed upon her and to be truthful, I felt quite jealous. Not that I was ever wanting for attention.

Weeks and months passed. Olivia was dedicated to the role of full time ponyslave. I spent the majority of my time as either a pet, gagged with my tongue hanging out and being led around on a leash, or as a bound sex slave for either Marie or Paul. Of course, every morning I too spent time marching in a ponygirl outfit. I was actually beginning to enjoy that role.

The final day arrived on August 31. To be truthful I was unaware of the date because I had no calendar available and no one told me! The morning was the usual preparation. I cleaned myself up and dressed in my minimal bondage gear, bit and bridle. I expected my trainer to arrive. I knelt with my head in the stocks and my arms behind me as I had done so for a very long time. And I waited.

I knew it was getting close to trainer switching time. I figured it was four weeks or so since the current trainer had taken on the job. His name was Alberto. I didn’t particularly care for his methods. He was strict and demanding in ways that other trainers had never been. He demanded I keep my face within a few inches of the floor every time he walked into the room. The only time I was allowed to rise was if he was sitting in the chair. That meant oral sex of course. I even had to eat like an animal. He cut up my food and fed me every day like a dog. Finally he kept my feet in ballet boots and my arms in stiff fingerless mittens. The only time they were removed was at night before bed and when I was dressed in harness.

But it was the day to change trainers and I expected a new style of torture. As I had done literally hundreds of times before I knelt with my head in the stocks and my hands folded behind my back. My lips clenched the bit that trapped my tongue. I was used to the process by now. In a few short moments I would be marching to the orders of my trainer, perhaps my mistress herself.

When my trainer arrived, he slipped a leather sleeve over my arms. I held them behind my back just as I had been trained many months ago. It was standard routine by now. What surprised me was the trainer. It was Paul!

“Today is pay day,” he said to me after removing me from the stocks. “I get the final ride. After we finish the ride, you will make a decision. I’m going to explain the choices now so you can think about it as you march. The first option obviously is to take the money and run. You’ll be paid off and you can leave. The next option is to take the money, take a three month vacation, and then return. You can commit for one, two, or three years. There will be monetary incentives for the longer contracts. Finally you can place yourself on the ponyslave auction block. If you do, the mandatory commitment term is three years. You would receive a guaranteed ten million minimum for your duties but there would be no chance to end the contract early.  We would receive the commission since we are the most recent owners. You would essentially become a prisoner subject to the whims of your owner. During that time you could be sold for profit as your owner saw fit. Each time you are sold you would be awarded an additional thirty percent of the sale price.

Be forewarned that few owners are as lenient as us. Your role as a pony would be far more demanding than what you have ever been subjected to. You would live like an animal. You would probably be stabled and bound constantly, as if they were preventing you from escaping. You would experience the true nature of slavery.

As he led me away by the reins I began to think. It was so obvious that he wanted me to accept the third option. I saw it in his face. Would he bid on me if I did this? Did he have another facility for this sort of activity? I didn’t know but I suspected he did. But three years without the chance of ending the contract was a big step. I didn’t know if I could do that. And I was now a millionaire! Why subject myself to that torment? Then I realized that I really only had $600,000 because the taxes were going to hit me hard. Still that was a lot of scratch. Did I feel it was enough? The answer was, of course, “No!”

But I didn’t want to go back into it right away. I decided that I’d take the vacation and see how I liked freedom for a while. I needed the break. Then I’d come back. I had to. I could handle this life of subjugation. I had done it for a full year and I was not insane or disturbed by it. I had faired well to be truthful. In fact I was pretty damn proud of it!

We descended to the lower floor. Hugo and Marie were waiting. Paul hooked me up to the cart. As I took my position between the shafts everyone stared at me as if I were their proud daughter or sister. It was strange to say the least. It was like I was graduating from college.

Marie approached me. I made eye contact with her as I had been taught so many times before. “You’ve been told your options?”

I nodded.

“I need a decision when you are finished with your march. If you are taking your three months off, I still need to know what you intend to do after the three months are complete. I have to make arrangements for your return, especially if you decide to enter the auction.”

This surprised me. I thought I’d have some time during the three months to decide what sort of service I’d take on. I kept leaning toward the full commitment of three years but I thought the pony thing was too extreme, even if it meant ten million. Then again, even if they took out a third of the amount in taxes, I’d still be left with over six million. And if they could invest it for me I’d be even better off.

I knew that giving myself up to people that would treat me like an animal was a lot to ask of me. I know I was capable of handling the situation. I had dealt with a year of such treatment already. How much worse could it be? I had already been a pony, a dog, and countless other creatures according to the whims of these people. Could it really be that much worse?

As we began the march I knew my decision was made. I was going to put myself on the block. Every time I tried to find a reason to take another path I thought about the money. Any other option was not enough for me. If I was going to put up with three years of torment I might as well get paid for it. So when the march was over and they removed my bit and bridle, I told Marie, Hugo, and Paul my decision.

Everyone congratulated me on my decision. Marie said she’d take care of the details. Paul told me to enjoy my vacation. Hugo remained silent for some time. He simply displayed a smile from ear to ear.

As I was led away to have my gear removed I heard Hugo make one comment to Marie. He quoted that character in the old movie that I had watched countless times, “Greed is Good!”