Chapter One

I return the phone to it’s cradle and make an appointment notation on my calendar for a photo shoot next week. Glancing at the wall clock, I leave my office and head downstairs. Dominick is off to the spa for a month, so I have time to myself. Moving through the mansion, I head towards the garage. Minutes later I’m driving cross country to my studio. The Porsche’s engine revs in perfect harmony with my own anticipation as I go over my plans one more time.

Dominick had questioned me about it when she found out I’d had an off estate studio. She wondered blatantly why I’d needed an additional studio when I had one in the mansion, but I just brushed off the questions. There are some things Dominick doesn’t need to know. Besides, there are things Dominick thinks she’s kept secret from me that I found out a long time ago. I was very thorough before allowing her to have the run of my estate.

Turning into the paved studio parking lot, I switch off the sports car’s ignition and pause a moment. The parking lot is empty, so my models haven’t shown up yet. Sighing, I gather my things and lock the car before entering the building, unlocking the plain steel front door with my keys.

Entering, I switch the lights on and head through the small lobby into the back. It’s a converted warehouse, and the back wall is red brick with high ceilings. At the back of the room is a table covered in black leather straps. I begin to sort these into two piles when I hear a knock at the door.

When I open it, I am looking into lively green eyes. Ginny is tall, leggy, tan, and has a long mane of dark hair that reaches the small of her back. She has a tiny waist, which is further accented by her generous bosom and nicely shaped derriere. Her cleavage reveals that her tanned olive complexion extends to more than just her face. She’s wearing thick soled sandals, white jeans, and a dark green blouse. Bangle earrings swing freely about with every turn of her head.

“Hey! Sorry we’re a little late. We missed the first bus out of town. This place is certainly out of the way isn’t it?” She brushes past me without waiting for an answer, loudly making her way into the back room as if she owns the place.

Her companion, Terry, is much more reticent. Blonde and blue eyed with milky white skin, she matches Ginny in every other physical attribute. She quietly steps through the door I hold open, her gaze fixed to the floor. She whispers something that could have passed for a greeting if I’d heard it. She’s as introverted as her companion is extroverted.

I’ve done this deliberately, pairing them up this way. I spent a few months searching the internet until I found just the right combination. Ginny is experienced and unafraid to try new things, while Terry is very inexperienced and will follow Ginny, thinking she knows what she’s doing. Ginny’s sense of self confidence is a lure for the younger woman where my plans are concerned. Ginny is a jewelry store clerk, and Terry is a bank attendant in their day jobs. They model to get additional income on the side.

“Well, let’s start shall we? If you would please, you can undress at the far end of the room and leave your things on the bench.” I wave towards the opposite end of the expansive studio, to a bench easily fifty feet away.

The women nod and walk away, talking quietly among themselves. After only a few paces, they both stop. Ginny breaks the silence then. “Ah, we were wondering about our pay? If you don’t mind, we’d like to get paid up front. What you want is kind of kinky, and we want to make sure we get paid ya know?”

I laugh. “Of course. I’m sorry.” I reach into my back pocket and hand each woman a sealed envelope. Each envelope contains ten crisp one hundred dollar bills. After ripping open the envelopes and satisfying themselves of the contents, the two models resume their stroll across the studio towards the bench.

I notice them as they walk away. For the first time I can observe them in real life, side by side, and I’m satisfied I’ve made a good choice. From a physical standpoint, they are practically identical. Same height, same build, same bust sizes, same measurements everywhere. Even their hair is the same length. The only real difference is one is blonde and one is brunette, one is dark and tanned and the other is light skinned, and their eye color of course.

Returning to my straps, I ignore them until I hear footsteps behind me once again. I turn to find both women standing and looking at me. Both have their hands covering their breasts and pubic areas, though Ginny is a bit more casual about it.

“Ah, let’s get started then!” I instruct Ginny to stand before me first. “Open your mouth please.” Upon doing so, I carefully slip a bit between her teeth, making sure to position it as far back as possible. After positioning it accordingly, I pull the straps back around her head, buckling them in place. I take pains to make sure she’s comfortable the entire time. Due to how the bridle is fashioned, her hair is placed in a pony tail on the crown of her head, adding at least six inches to her height.

I repeat the process with Terry. Her eyes are wide and round, staring at me as I adjust the straps enclosing her head. Finally satisfied with her pony tail position, I move on to the next stage.

I bring out two pair of boots, carefully fashioned to look like horse hoofs. The construction of the footware causes the heel to position approximately eight inches above the floor, and for the toes to be pointed almost straight down. The soles of the boots are about four inches thick. I make it a point to remain professional and not look directly at the cunt only inches from my face. Ginny giggles around her bit as I lace up her boots. When I stand up again, she is no longer covering herself with her hands, and has begun to strut around proudly in her costume.

Terry does not share that exhibitionist streak however, and awkwardly continues to cover herself as I lace her boots up. Rising, I deliberately ignore her and turn back to the table. Pulling a sheet of pasties from the pile of leather straps, I motion towards Ginny.

I peel off a large circular black pasty from the paper. It’s actually conical, in the shape of an enlarged nipple, and it has a gold ring through it much like a piercing. I pull a nondescript tube of ointment from a drawer on the table and squeeze out a small amount on the pasty.

“Oh, this is to keep it from sticking too tightly. Don’t want to hurt you ladies with it’s pulled off later.” I say this reassuringly to Ginny who simply walks up and stands still, obviously waiting for me to place it. I notice the grin in her eyes as I carefully apply it over her right nipple. I repeat the process on her left. When I’m done, she swings her DD breasts back and forth a few times, laughing at the way the gold rings swung. She then slips her index finger into each ring and pulls it up and out. The pasties stay in place however, and she nods appreciatively.

I pull the next pasty off and crook a finger to Terry. I can tell she’s nervous, as she’s hyperventilating slightly. She shivers as my fingers contact her breasts. I notice how incredibly soft her skin is. Her nipples are somewhat larger and pinker than Ginny’s, and are just as hard, and the pasty barely covers her areola. When I’m done, I step back and inspect my handiwork. Terry crosses her arms under her breasts and tries to cover herself as much as possible, one hand down between her thighs. The pasties are nice and even.

Turning back to Ginny, I pull the last bit of material off the paper. It’s an odd shaped strip, a little over a foot long and about three inches wide at each end. The middle portion narrows substantially. Applying more ointment to the middle of the strip, I wave Ginny to come closer.

“Squat and open your thighs up a bit.”

Eyes narrowed and staring at me, she does as instructed and I carefully locate the black material such that the end is perfectly horizontal barely above her pubic area. I’d instructed both models to shave completely, and now they know why. The sticky material adheres as soon as I place it, then I pull it down and between her legs, then back up between her buttocks, pulling it snugly as I go. The opposite end of the material barely reaches past the top of her ass crack. Only a small amount of black tape is visible between the dimples on her lower back, and the tape stretches wide to contain her already swollen labia. It rises just barely high enough in front to cover her clitoris.

Once done, Ginny is completely covered, yet also nude at the same time. I slip a wide belt around her waist, that doubles as a cincher. A dark haired tail hangs to her knees from the back of the belt. As I nod towards Terry, Ginny strolls over to a wall mirror and admires herself as I apply the materials to Terry. I notice as I pull the material between her thighs, that Terry is somewhat excited. Again, I maintain my professional demeanor and quickly finish.

Terry follows Ginny to the mirror and notices her appearance.

“Ginny, let’s get this harness on and we can start.” I hold up a leather arm binder. Ginny quickly skips back to me and turns around. I carefully place both arms behind her back, then pull the arm binder up as far as I can until her elbows are practically meeting.

“OK, hold it there now.” I slip the arm binder further up over her arms, and pull the straps over her shoulders. I maintain a certain looseness and make absolutely certain Ginny is comfortable. When I’m done, she again strides over to the mirror. Clearly there’s a certain novelty to the experience that she’s enjoying.

Terry is somewhat stiffer. It takes me twice as long, but eventually she’s properly bound and ready.

We spend the next hour taking photos. I’ve set up a western type scene in one of the larger upstairs rooms, complete with wagon wheels and watering trough. We take frequent breaks, but I make sure to take plenty of photographs. I notice that after the first fifteen minutes, Terry has loosened up considerably. She may think it’s just her nerves calming down, but that’s not the case. At least not entirely. The ointment I applied to the pasties and the tape contained a mild mixture of chemicals designed to increase blood flow to the targeted areas, as well as pleasure sensations. The effect is akin to a mild inebriation. Just enough to loosen her up and reduce her inhibitions, but not enough for her or her companion to realize what was happening.

I do everything digitally, so I’m not concerned about film. I’ll process and edit the shots later, then upload them to my website. I make decent money off of it, and it’s enjoyable. I forward a few to Sir Jeff as well, for his website. It helps send customers my way.

After we’ve completed the shoot, I tease the models just a little bit by making them walk back downstairs while still in harness. They can’t complain with the bits in their mouths, but since they are under the effect of the chemicals they’re a bit excited anyway. I notice a giddy giggling sound coming from both of them. As I reach a landing, I glance backwards, noticing that now the tape covering their labia is slipping back and forth, and even though it’s still adhering at each end, they are spilling out of the middle and the black tape disappears between the folds of their cunt.

Once downstairs again, I remove the arm binders first, allowing the models to remove the remainder of their harness and the pasties on their own. Small talk predominates, as for all intents and purposes nobody would be the wiser as to the nature of the shoot we have just completed. It’s a way for all concerned to return to a normal mental state.

Only after the models are completely dressed, feeling safe and secure, and preparing to leave do I broach the real subject. It’s the main reason I’ve brought them here and scheduled a photo shoot with them. I also need to talk them into it while they are still under the effects of the drugs yet feel safe after having experienced the shoot without a negative experience. This is where I hope Ginny’s sense of adventure will help lure Terry in.

“Say, I’ve got another little project I’d like to use you two for, if you’re interested. It’s kind of similar to the photo shoot that we just did. The pay is much better too, if it makes any difference.” I speak as casually and off handedly as possible. “I usually use another set of models, but it would be fun to change things up a bit.”

I don’t look at them, studiously organizing the pile of straps, for a moment, then turn and face them while maintaining a casual air. The two women are whispering to each other intently, before Ginny turns towards me with a question.

“How much and what’s the gig?”

I pause a moment, then smile my most disarmingly charming smile. “It’s simple. You two just portrayed pony girls in the photo shoot. There’s a parade tomorrow through a small town I know of. It’s a short parade, and only takes about 30 minutes start to finish. It ends up at the park in the center of town. I’ll take you there in a special trailer even.”

“Wait a minute, you want us to portray pony girls in your parade? That’s preposterous! We’d be arrested in a heartbeat for indecent exposure, no more than you’ve got us wearing!” Ginny is excited, but I can already tell the idea entices her. Her better judgment is kicking in however.

Terry is another story entirely.

“No way! That’s just too embarrassing! I mean, doing something like this in a studio is one thing, doing it in public is way different! You’re crazy! We’d be in jail in five minutes!”

I laugh again, low and confident. “Actually, no. We wouldn’t get into any trouble at all. You see, in an unusual switch, the town I’m speaking of was annexed a few years ago by a nearby nudist colony. They did it as sort of a pre-emptive action so the town couldn’t regulate them out of existence. In order to maintain peace, they keep it low key, but once a year the townspeople allow a parade just to appease the opposition and keep them from pushing their nudist mores onto the town even further. So, we’re completely within the law and completely safe from any prosecution.”

“This is just too weird for me. Sorry Ginny, but I’m not going this far. You can if you want, but you’re on your own.” Terry is slinging her bag onto her shoulder. This is bad. I need both women for this to work.

“That’s too bad Ginny, I really need both of you. I guess I can just pay the same models as I used last year again.”

“Wait a minute! How much are we talking about here?” Ginny is still cautious, but her greed is showing through now.

“I usually pay the models five grand.” I answer.

“Together?” This from Terry.

“Each.” I answer. “The circumstances and harness are different of course, but the concept is the same. And I must let you know, you‘ll be pulling a small, lightweight cart with me in it. That‘s one main reason why the pay is so much.”

The two women huddle again. This time the conversation is much briefer. Then Ginny turns back to me.

“Done! You’ve got yourself a pair of pony girls mister!”

“Great! I’ll expect you both here at 9:30 tomorrow morning then. Oh yeah, I need to put these on you before you leave.” I smile as I wave a pair of fake tattoo sheets. This is going to be fun.

“What are you talking about?” Terry asks.

“These are fake brands. They need to be on at least twelve hours though, otherwise they get runny when you sweat. I just need to slip them on, then cover them with a gauze bandage. Leave the bandage on until you get back tomorrow.”

“Okay. Let’s get it done. Our cab will be here any minute.” Ginny begins to slip her pants down, exposing her thighs and buttocks. An incredibly tiny white lace thong disappears between her thighs, molding into a camels toe as it does. A minute later, Terry follows suit.

I peel the backing off the temporary tattoo, then carefully place it on Ginny‘s firm left buttock cheek. It’s my own design, A circle with an inverted spiked “T” through it. I quickly place a gauze bandage over it before they can really examine the design. I repeat the process on Terry. Shortly afterwards, both women are completely dressed yet again.

About this time, their cab pulls up and the women leave. I can tell Terry is still reluctant, but Ginny is talking to her earnestly. I’m confident Ginny will make sure Terry comes back tomorrow. I finish tidying up and leave as well.

Chapter Two

The women are actually early, and waiting for me when I drive in.

“Hey, you two are early. That’s good. We’ve got a lot of work to do before the parade.” I lead them towards the studio. As we walk, I pull two more envelopes from my pocket and hand one to each of them.

“I know you ladies want to make sure you’re paid, so let’s get this out of the way right to start with. If you forgive me, I’m only giving you half up front and half upon completion. Given the amount of money, I’m sure you understand. I want your best performance and that’s the only leverage I have I’m afraid.

Each woman immediately rips open her envelope. A second later, they both stop.

“Where’s the other half?” Ginny is suspicious now.

I pull two more envelops out and open them, thumbing through the wad of cash inserted within. “Right here. See, not trying to slip anything past you, but you have to understand, once I hand you all of the money, I have no guarantee that you’ll give your best performance. You’ll get the remainder upon completion of the deal. Is this acceptable? If not, I have the other two models on standby. They were pretty pissed at missing out this year anyway, and can be here in ten minutes if I call them.”

Ginny stands still for a moment, staring at the gravel. Terry looks at her expectantly. If it were up to her, I think she would bolt now, she’s just waiting for Ginny.

“Okay. But don’t try any shit with me. Understand?” She’s dead serious now.

I look back into her green eyes. “I’m always serious. Now let’s get to work.” I turn and continue towards the studio.

Once inside, I motion them to the back room once again. A large garage door is set at one end in the old loading dock area, and a special horse trailer is sitting with it’s doors open. It’s similar in size to a normal horse trailer, and in truth is simply a modified example. The difference is in the way it’s furnished. The windows are reflective one-way glass. The women will be able to see outside, but nobody can see inside. A small, inconspicuous air conditioning unit is mounted at the front of the trailer, drawing air in through grills in the roof of the trailer. The inside is double walled, and heavily insulated. The rear of the trailer has a ramp that drops down. When not in use, it folds up vertically over the opening, and the double doors seal it shut. The doors have heavy built in gaskets, further sealing the contents of the trailer from prying eyes.

The lightweight aluminum cart is sitting on the dock. It’s a two wheel affair, with a bench seat. Thin spoked wheels are set at each side, and a single shaft extends out front. At the end of the shaft is an eyebolt. Reins lay loosely on the seat, and the whole construction is black. A bright red six foot long stiff whip is sitting in a socket on the right hand side.

The models take in the view, then begin to examine their tack for the day. The headgear and boots are almost identical to what they wore yesterday, but the arm binders are significantly different. The pasties and ointment are laying on one end of the table. Furthermore, there is an ominous looking pair of boxes with a picture of an anal plug on the lid, to which is attached a pony tail. One box has a picture of a blond tail, the other has a picture of a dark brown tail.

“Hey, this wasn’t part of the deal!” Terry is wide eyed now, staring fixedly at the boxes.

“That’s one reason the pay is so good. Do I need to reconsider? I thought we had an agreement.”

“You never mentioned this!” Ginny is pointing at the box now. Her other hand propped on her hip.

“Fine. Give me the money, I’ll call the other models and we can all get on with our day then. Thanks anyway.” I hold my hand out for the envelopes both women still hold in their hands. It’s a bluff of course.

Ginny pauses a moment, examines the rest of the tack more closely. Picking up the head gear, she runs one finger over the mask and blinders attached to the front. It will effectively cover her face from the bridge of her nose up. Then she glances at the pasties laying nearby. Only then does she relent. “Whatever. Let’s just do this and get it over with. I have a nail appointment this afternoon and I don’t want to be late.” Terry looks frantic for a moment, then relents with bowed head. Ginny shoves her envelope into the bag roughly and begins to remove her clothing. Within minutes, both models are completely nude except for the bandages on their left buttocks.

“Place your bags in the front of the trailer. That way you’ll have all of your stuff with you at all times.” I nod towards the open door of the trailer. Both women walk their bags to the trailer, the gauze bandages on their ass cheeks almost glowing in the dimmer light on that end of the studio. There’s some scuffing sounds as they pack their bags away, and then they are returning.

Stopping before me, they wait for instructions, obviously a bit ill at ease now that we’ve begun. I figure we should start with something a bit less traumatic for them.

“Let’s take that gauze off now.”

I begin by carefully removing the gauze, and gaze at the temporary tattoo sheet. Picking at one corner, I peel it off. Both women scrunch their faces up at the tape pulling off, but otherwise they don’t react. Unknown to either model, the gauze and tattoo contained the same chemicals as the ointment did, only in an even more concentrated form. What’s more, by leaving it on overnight, the tattoo was assured of staying visible for months now. Nothing would take it off, not even alcohol! Well, nothing except time and repeated scrubbings of course.

We start with the headgear once again. We went through the exercise just yesterday, and they don’t question why I would start once again with this particular piece of tack. Once they are comfortable, they step into the boots. I take my time now lacing them up.

“You want to make sure they’re snug and not slipping. You’re pulling a cart today, so we don’t want you twisting an ankle.” Both women accept my explanation without response and I continue. Next up is the arm binders.

These are different than the arm binders I used yesterday. Instead of holding their arms straight down their backs, I have the women fold their arms behind their backs and slip the binders over their doubled up forearms, then up their biceps. After that, I lace the binders up. I do Ginny first, and make sure the device is somewhat slack initially. Making sure she’s comfortable, if in an awkward sort of way, I move onto Terry. Again, she’s stiffer and I have more trouble, but eventually, she’s bound identically to Ginny.

The arm binders force the two women to arch their backs in an exaggerated fashion, which of course shows off their breasts more prominently. Since their breasts are thrust out just so, their buttocks are forced in just as exaggerated a fashion in the opposite direction. The whole effect is furthered by the boots, forcing the women to prance literally on the tips of their toes. With each step, their natural breasts swing back and forth. I imagine how they’re going to feel in a few hours and try to hide my smile behind my work.

I notice Ginny looking obviously at the pasties now, wondering when I’m going to apply them. I ignore the hint and continue with my preparations. One strap of the head gear crosses over the top of the model’s skull, and this is where a small leather ring is set through which the pony tail is inserted on the crown of the head. Next, I slip a small chain around the left ankle of each woman. Attached to the chain are small jingly bells. With each step, the bells jingle. I make it a point to stop saying too much at this point. Discussion would be one way anyhow, and I don’t want their suspicions raised any further than they already are.

Next are the pasties. I start with Ginny again, and apply the nipple pasties first. Again, there are steel nipple rings set in the ends. I apply the ointment liberally, then set them in place. I follow this with the crotch pasty. This time, it’s even more abbreviated than the type I used the day before, and the front is further cut in a “V” shape. A small slit is cut in the back. Ginny squats without any prodding on my part and I apply the ointment, positioning it so it just barely covers her clitoris. Pulling it down and underneath, I make sure the thin material covers her labia, then pull it towards the back. Pausing, I produce the tailed anal plug and slip it through the slit in the pasty material, then I apply more lubricant. Slipping it into Ginny’s rear, I pause to push, rotate, and move it around until the tip begins to disappear into her body. After an initial stiffening on her part, I notice Ginny moving her bottom around, and is obviously getting into it. Finally, it slips fully into place and I pull the remaining tape up through her crack to the small of her back. Ginny stands then, swishing her new tail around deliriously.

I then pick up a lead line and leather collar and clip the lead line to Ginny’s bridle. Startled, she looks over at Terry who is squirming slightly, trying to get just a little more comfortable in her arm binder. At this moment, she’s too preoccupied to see what I’m doing and the music is drowning out somewhat the clomping of her foot wear.

I lead her the few paces over to the cart waiting in the corner and attach rings from her arm binder to the eyebolt of the cart. There are rings set at the elbows of the arm binders, and these in turn I attach to the rings set in the cross bar. Afterwards, I slip the high leather collar around her neck and fasten the buckles in back. Rings are set in each side of the collar, and I slip the reins through these rings before pulling them back to the cart. Only then do I step back to inspect my handiwork.

Perfect. The collar has a stiff leather extension underneath the chin that forces her head to tilt back and forces her gaze upwards.

Turning back to Terry, I see she’s staring back and forth between me, Ginny, and the pasties. Moments later, her nipples are tingling to the feeling of the ointment and the ringed pasties. The crotch pasty is more problematic. She’s obviously never done anything remotely anal before, and it’s difficult getting the plug inserted. Finally, she makes a determined thrust downwards onto the plug. It makes a squishing sound as it pops inside of her, then the remainder of the pasty is in place and we’re finished.

I ignore her odd movements as she makes an effort to get used to the intruder, and clip the lead line to her bridle. Leading her to the cart, I notice her frantically glancing back and forth now, realizing just how different this event was from the photo shoot we had done just the day before. Her low sense of self confidence is even shakier now.

Halfway to the cart, I slow down and whisper quietly to her, “Just think of the other twenty-five hundred you‘ll have in a few hours. Besides, what are the odds anyone will recognize you?” I hear her actually snort in reply and suppress my laughter. The chemicals are still working however, lowering her inhibitions, exposing her more basic personality, and she continues beyond what prudence would have cautioned against.

I hook her arm binder up the same as I did Ginny’s, then slip her collar on and attach the reins.

“Okay, we’d better do a little practice run here. I want you to lead off with your right foot, step high, then forward. Listen to the bells on your left ankle, and try to time it the same. You can’t really see too well where you’re going with the blinders on and masks on, so you have to trust me and just walk where the reins pull you. Giddyup!”

Both women immediately raise their right legs as instructed and we’re off. We do a few laps around the studio at a walk, then I pick up the pace a bit with the whip. When I smack it against Terry’s right buttock, she flinches and squeals in protest. A small slender red mark is left to mark the spot. The skin isn’t broken, and it will remain red for a few hours, but there’s no permanent damage. Since there was no crack, Ginny is unsure what’s going on except Terry is pulling faster now and she adjusts her pace to keep up.

After fifteen minutes, I’m convinced they have a decent idea of what they are supposed to do and pull to a stop. They are breathing heavily, and are quivering in the legs. Sweat is already glistening on their skin.

“Well, that’s a good start. I guess we‘re ready to go then.” I flick the reins once more, and they step forward in unison. I guide them towards the trailer.

“Giddyup!”

Both women respond immediately and I lead them into the trailer now. I can’t see their faces, but I’m sure they are full of uncertainty and a touch of fear now. I walk them forward as far as possible, then stop them. After setting the cart brake, I climb out and step out of the trailer. I lift the ramp and lock it in place, then close the doors.

I walk around to the side and open a side door before stepping into the front of the trailer. As I suspected, both women’s eyes are full and round behind their masks and they are breathing heavily. Their sweat dripping breasts heave up and down in the dim light of the trailer.

A bar transverses the width of the trailer, and I pull them forward until they are bent over it, their upper torso horizontal.

I attach lead lines to each side of their bridles, then attach restraints to each ankle. For good measure, I hook an additional strap to the tongue of the cart. They won’t be moving until I release them now. Their breasts hang down below their rib cages, swaying slightly with their heavy breathing, and sweat drops are already collecting at the ring of the pasty, before dripping onto the aluminum floor below. I make sure to flip on the air conditioning before stepping back out of the trailer and locking it behind me.

I climb into the SUV and start it. The garage door opens at the push of a button, and we’re on our way. I imagine the emotions the women must be feeling now, restrained as they are so completely, leaving the studio behind, being able to look outside and see the world pass by, but knowing no one can see or hear them in return. I imagine their confusion as their bodies lie to them, the chemicals radiating through their bodies, outward from the lubricated plugs in their derrieres, causing them to feel pleasure when they should be feeling pain or humiliation.

I drive carefully, not swerving or turning too sharply, the entire way to town. It takes me about an hour to get there, and the parade organizers are already lining up the participants. I pull up to my reserved spot and park.

Chapter Three

I enter the trailer at the front, disconnecting their restraints. Both women are still wide eyed and staring, but calm enough in the knowledge that their identities are concealed. I step back out of the trailer, then go around back and open the doors. Dropping the ramp, I plop myself down into the cart seat and pull back on the reins.

“Let’s go!” The two pony girls begin to back out awkwardly now. Their ass cheeks undulate softly as the long tails dangle down between. Finally free of the trailer, they roll their eyes about, looking at the other parade participants.

The parking area is full of pony girls now, in various states of dress and harness. More than a few are completely nude. My attention is drawn to a commotion to the side, and I see someone leading a reluctant pony girl out of a trailer. She’s completely restrained except for her legs, and even those are hobbled. She can only take short steps, but is fighting the bit with all of her might. The bit itself is very slim, and I can make out obscenities being mouthed around it. Her clothing is mostly in shreds, fully exposing one breast and most of the other. Her skirt is ripped to the waist and cut away such that only her pubic area and ass are covered. Stockinged legs totter above high heeled shoes. Finally, her owner slashes a riding crop across her almost bare ass and she screams out in pain. It takes all of the fight out of her for the moment, and she glumly follows along behind her master, still struggling but much less so now.

Ginny and Terry witness the display in horror. I glance at them, laugh, and wave the whip under their noses. “Behave or you’ll get the same! Now let’s go!” Hopping back into the cart, I steer them into my appointed place in the parade procession. Minutes later, we’re on our way.

The parade route is circuitous, zigzagging through the town. After only a block or so, I notice both women have stiffened up again. They’ve just realized they are in the town they both work in! I laugh at their reaction and pop their ass with the whip again. It will be fun to see how they react to certain points in the route.

Soon enough, we come up on Ginny’s place of employment. The jewelry store attendants are all standing at the curb, one even has a camera and is taking photos. Ginny prances more forcefully, trying to hurry past. She’s relying on her mask and the outlandish costume to protect her identity, but it’s obvious she’s terrified someone will recognize her. I deliberately stop the cart, right in front of the store and set the brake. I step out and walk around to Ginny.

I can tell she’s horrified. Even with her mouth stretched to accommodate the bit, and half her face covered in a mask with blinders to the side, I can see the terror she’s imagining. I grin and make a show of checking her tack, then lift her foot and make as if I’m checking her shoes. I notice the black tape covering her cunt is not quite containing her labia anymore. Massive amounts of flesh are visible on either side of the thin black strip of material, barely covering most of her vagina. It has pulled down somewhat however, from her high stepping, and the very tip top of her clitoris is now visible.

Finally putting her foot back down, I pat her on her sweaty ass as I go back to the cart and climb in. Once more we are off and I can see Ginny’s shoulders visibly relax. Her coworker meanwhile has taken probably a hundred photos in the short duration of time we paused.

Terry’s fate is similar. I stop in front of the bank, this time ostensibly to check Terry’s tack. I notice how the temporary tattoo glistens under her sweat and the sun is reflecting off of her rapidly reddening flesh. I notice tinges of red flesh peeking at the edges of the crotch tape. I adjust the neck collar to force her head back even further before getting back into the cart.

Snapping the whip, I leave a bright red whelp on her ass cheek as we continue the parade. Finally arriving at the city park, I pull them under a tree and hobble them. The hobble is simply a bar, similar to the cross bar on the wagon hitch, with rings set in it. Once attached, they must stand with their legs shoulder width apart.

Only now do I really stop and appreciate the sight. There they are, two beautiful pony girls, sweating heavily, breathing great gasps of air around their bits, wobbling just a bit from exhaustion, and consternation evident when they realize we are nowhere near the trailer. It’s obvious their day is not anywhere near ending.

I pull a water bottle out and attach a long tube to it. This I insert past their bits and force each one to drink at least two liters of water. What they don’t drink runs down their collar and onto their breasts. Parched as they are, they gulp the liquid down thirstily. Unknown to either woman, as with the ointment and the tattoos, the water is full of chemicals intended for various purposes. While it does refresh them and contains stimulants to help them get through the remainder of the parade without collapsing, it also reduces their cognitive processes to a slightly more basic level. They’ll have a difficult time thinking beyond their immediate circumstances, but I’m certain they’ll think it’s just exhaustion.

The chemicals also stimulate the blood flow to their breasts and genital area. The stimulation increases arousal, and I fully expect to see their juices flowing by the time we get back to the parking area.

“You know, you two look like the heat’s getting to you. Allow me to cool you off a bit.” I slip a finger through the ring on Ginny’s right nipple pasty then. With a jerk, I snatch it off. Ginny screams, but can’t do anything but shift slightly as I reach for the other nipple. It too comes off in a snatch. Terry’s are next and then both women are screaming. Remains of the ointment, looking for all the world like Vaseline, is still smeared over their nipples. Rivulets of sweat dribble down, then around the ointment before continuing down their bodies.

A police officer walks by about then. Both women make an effort to mumble something to him, obviously pleading for help. He glances at them, then at me, before laughing and continuing on his way.

The plan put into effect just five short years ago is still working. Myself and the other organizers of this little annual event made it a point to initially fake abductions with just this ultimate goal in mind. We would pay to bring voluntary women to the event in chains, who would then struggle and scream in fake distress through the event, drawing the attention of the appropriate authorities.

After several embarrassing incidents wherein officers “rescued” damsels in distress and arrested their abductors, only to have the women insist on not pressing charges and explain they were role playing, the local police department finally adopted a hands off policy. Unless there were extenuating circumstances or an obvious physical life or death danger to the supposed “victim” or the public, the police now maintained what little bit of dignity they could and stayed out of what they considered to be a role playing game taken to an extreme. We’ve even had public brandings that were ultimately left alone.

In fact, a public branding is taking place now. The woman I’d seen in the parking area, struggling against her captor, is now having the last of her clothing removed preparatory to being bent over a railing. The brand is already white hot in the fire nearby, awaiting it’s opportunity to permanently imprint itself into her buttock.

Her new owner is approaching her with a tail plug now, and she screams obscenities as he forces it into her. Even from a distance I can tell it’s very large. Only after it’s in place does he pick up the waiting brand, and without a moment’s hesitation he plunges it into her flesh. As usual, she passes out with a wailing sound.

My two new acquisitions watch in shock and horror.

“Like I said, no cops.” I’m looking at their crotch pasties now, and they know it. They both try to pull their thighs together, but the hobble prevents them. I casually peel the offending garment off each woman, leaving her almost fully exposed. As I pull the tape away, the skin stretches, still adhered to the tape, and leaves a red welt where it pulls away. It’s a little awkward working the tape around the butt plugs, and I ultimately end up tearing the tape lengthwise and pulling it off that way. As with their nipples, massive amounts of ointment are clearly visible between their labia.

I now grab Ginny’s bridle and work the blinders. She freezes, motionless, for a moment, in confusion. In seconds they are off. Next goes the mask. Her eyes become wide and round as realization dawns on her what I’m doing, then begins to try to shake her head from side to side to get away from my fingers as they work the buckles of the bridle. Now the mask is off and she’s completely exposed. Terry is next. She’s seen what I’ve done to Ginny, and is already struggling, but it takes only a few minutes. Finally, both women realize just how much trouble they are in and are squirming and twisting in an attempt to extricate themselves from their bonds. Their pony tails sway gracefully behind them with every twist of their bodies. Both are squealing loudly around their bits now. Pleading expressions are directed at every passersby. Without exception, all onlookers simply smirk a bit and keep walking. They’ve seen it all before.

Already exhausted from pulling the cart for miles, the women expend the last of their energy quickly in their struggles before finally quieting down. Hanging from the rings on the cart hitch, they sag, resigned to the realization that further struggle is useless. Their breasts swing slightly with every gasping breath and their eyes are rolled up, looking at me warily as their heads are tilted down.

“Well, it looks like they’re about ready for the return trip now. Time to get busy again.” At this statement, both women attempt to exchange looks, but again their head movement is limited by the stiff neck collars. The next moment they’re struggling again, fully conscious of what the return parade route will be. I remove the beam hobbling their ankles and return it to the storage space built into the back of the cart. The two women are already trying to pull away from me, cart or not. It’s funny and I laugh again. Closing the lid, I walk back to the front and climb back into the seat. I release the brake and lift my whip. The women are trying to struggle away from the parade forming in the street adjacent to the park. I snap the whip against the buttocks of each woman repeatedly until they pause, shaking, struggling to control their fight or flight instincts.

Then slowly, surely, they accept the tug of the reins. Their ass cheeks quiver, awaiting the next strike of the whip against their sweat-sheened buttocks. Harsh red whelps pepper their backs, ribs, thighs and asses. The pony tails, now obviously exposed in method of attachment, shimmer with each shudder the women make as they gingerly turn towards the parade group.

Pulling the cart reluctantly, they make their way back across the park to the area I direct them to. I snap the whip again. “Higher steps! You know how I’ve taught you to walk!” I snap the whip again, and am rewarded by instant obedience from both pony girls.

The parade begins moving now, slowly progressing away from the park and back along it’s original route. Terry is the first to let her panic get the better of her. We’re still at least a block away from her bank, and she’s desperately screaming around her bit, pulling to one side and then the other. Setting her feet, refusing to pull until I pop her with the whip again.

Finally, I stop the cart and set the brake. Stepping out, I walk around and to the rear of the cart and withdraw some additional leather straps and move towards Terry. Clipping one end of the strap to the left elbow ring, I pass the strap through a ring set in the back of the bridle, then pull it down to the ring at the right elbow. A buckle is located on the strap just short of the right elbow ring, and this I loosen and pull the slack out. As I pull it tighter, Terry’s head has to tilt back further. Her back conforms as well, until she’s bent backwards in a most exaggerated manner. Her breasts jut out much more prominently, and her ability to move is severely restricted except for what I allow, or enforce, her to do.

Stepping back into the cart, I pop the whip again. Unable to resist anymore, Terry begins to shakily walk forward to her fate. As we near the bank, I can tell she’s sobbing. Once more, we stop in front of the bank. Her co-workers laugh and point at first, then stop with open mouths and frozen expressions as they realize who one of my pony girls is. The next few minutes are a blur of camera flashes as they snap as many photos as they can in the short time we stand still. Terry’s breasts bob slightly with every sob. Then we are moving again. Not surprisingly, Terry pulls forcefully to get away from the bank location, while Ginny holds back, trying to stall the inevitable confrontation with her own coworkers.

Unlike Terry, Ginny actually pulls until we get to the jewelry store. As before, I stop the cart and set the brake. Ginny stares stoically forward, trying not to look at her coworkers. I know she’s trying not to make eye contact, and is desperately hoping to move on before they recognize her. I casually take my time retrieving the leather strap from the back of the cart. It’s identical to Terry’s, and I plan an identical purpose. As I pull her head back, I hear a gasp behind me and know they’ve finally recognized her. Ginny does too, and her only response is to sigh sadly and close her eyes. Tears well up and stream down her cheeks. I reach up, wipe one tear away, then walk slowly back to the cart.

Releasing the brake, I pop the whip against Ginny’s bare ass. She barely jumps, and just begins to pull forward as if she’s an automaton. Terry is now pulling slower as well. It’s at this point that I figure I’ve accomplished most of the breaking in I will require them to go through.

The rest of the parade is fairly uneventful. Neither pony girl even responds when a local television crew films them. Their identities and delicate parts will be blurred out for broadcasting, but I am certain there will be plenty of unedited copies floating around before the end of the day.

Arriving at the parking area, both women move voluntarily towards the trailer. I let them continue in, then set the brake once more. I close the ramp and doors, then move to the front of the trailer. Stepping inside, I find both women glaring at me with red, tear stained eyes. They resist as I pull them forward this time, but I attach them as before, leaning over the rail, tail-plumed asses in the air. I turn to activate the air conditioning, then glance over my shoulder at them. Smiling devilishly, I lower my hand and leave it off, then leave the trailer, locking it behind me. I hear both women making whining sounds before the door shuts it off.

I socialize for another hour, complimenting my acquaintance on his newly branded pony girl. He’s put her in tack now, and she glumly follows him on a lead line. The brand has been bandaged, and he’s kept her barefoot. She prances delicately about as she walks on the gravel of the parking lot.

Finally deciding I’ve tarried long enough, I return to the trailer. Opening the door, I glance in at my new acquisitions. Both women are hanging from the straps, sweat cascading off of them. Fear is present in their expressions, as they’ve struggled to the point of exhaustion against their bonds, and now realize their complete helplessness. I laugh again, and flip the air conditioning on and close the door.

Chapter Four

The drive from town was uneventful. I did have to stop and get gas, and imagined the temporary feelings the women would have in seeing ordinary people standing so close, filling their own cars with gas. They would be hopeful that their nightmare was about to end if they could only get the attention of other people, yet not wanting to draw any further attention to themselves than has already occurred today. Besides, they would also be thinking that perhaps it will be over soon and they would be free of their bonds, free with their payment, and free to get dressed and get on with their lives.

I grin at the knowledge of their future. I take a route that goes very close to the studio, and drive right past it actually. I imagine the consternation the women would have in seeing their supposed destination pass by in the windows of the trailer.

I continue on for another hour, arriving at a small rural ranch. I pull up to the gate and honk the horn. I see Olaf walk out, limping on his cane as usual. He sees me and nods, unlocking the gate and pulling it out of the way. I drive through and stop under the shade tree next to the corral.

I get out and Olaf is already opening the back doors of the trailer. He helps me drop the ramp, and I climb inside. Both women grunt in exasperation upon hearing me behind them. Since the game is now up, I pause a moment to admire my new property.

I reach out and brush my fingertips along Ginny’s ass, noticing the trails left in the sweat droplets suffusing her skin by my fingers. She tries to shift away from me, squealing in the process, but to no avail. I drop my fingers lower, sliding them past the softer portion of her inner thighs, past the very bottom portion of the crevice of her ass, and slide my fingers down between the smooth moist folds of her sex.

She jumps considerably, squealing louder around her bit, as I press my index and middle fingers against her cunt, just forward of her taint. I rub my thumb against the small space between her pussy and her plugged ass, rubbing it up and down as my fingers work downwards further between her labia. Stray strands of hair from her false pony tail are matted to her ass, and these I feel between my grinding thumb and her soft flesh. I pull them out of the way and they stick to the back of her thighs. She‘s grinding her ass around now, desperately trying to dislodge my probing digits, but it only makes it worse for her. I slide my fingers deeper into her cunt, rubbing them forward and backwards, then begin working my middle finger in and out. She’s sopping wet, and my finger makes a squishing sound as I move them around, then I probe further forward, cupping the palm of my hand against her cunt, until my fingers reach her clitoris.

I find it’s a hard knot, and rub my fingers against it harder. Ginny’s still making complaining noises, but her body betrays her as she can’t resist and begins to involuntarily fuck my fingers. I keep at it until she’s quivering in lust, then withdraw my hand. A newer, more plaintive wail comes from her now as she is left frustrated and quivering in excitement. She continues to grind her ass around, the tail swinging wildly, as she tries to cum but can’t. The drugs I gave her in the drinking water at the park have thoroughly kicked in now.

I release their restraining straps at this point, and climb into the cart. Both women ease up to vertical positions, working their shoulders and legs to revive circulation. Ginny actually writhes about a bit, lifting one leg to cross the other and attempting to squeeze her own cut with her thigh muscles. I make her move about so she can’t. “So, where do you want them?” I ask Olaf.

Olaf doesn’t hesitate. “The stable. They’re a sad lot at the moment, so maybe a bit of rest would be helpful.”

I nod once and cluck my tongue to the two women. They obediently begin moving as I direct them towards the stable. I don’t have to use the whip once, as both high step appropriately. I admire the way their tails swing in unison, and how I can just barely see the outside curvature of their breasts as they swing back and forth, just past their rib cages.

When we get into the stable, I notice two of the stalls are occupied. Olaf still has “Patricia” occupying a stall. I remember he’d acquired her when her boyfriend and his fiance had died in a plane crash on a trip to Europe. Left with merchandise but no one to pay for her, he’d assumed ownership and made her his “special” project. He spent a full year training her. When finished, he sold her, only to have to buy her back when the new owners were unsatisfied. It seemed Patricia had fixated on Olaf, and would perform for nobody but him. A few more sales transactions with identical results had confirmed the diagnosis. She was for all practical purposes his permanent property, and Patricia seemed content with that arrangement., performing for him splendidly, following him around the ranch, even without a lead line, and content to spend her days in the stable until he showed her attention.

The latest addition I’d helped with in her initial training, “Cynthia”, is staring out of her stall at me. She recognizes me, and stares at the new pony girls. I imagine Olaf has been enjoying “Cynthia’s” company since her initiation as a pony girl, and was loathe to dispose of her via the usual auctions until he was completely bored with her. She was leaner now, and healthier, but her disposition was still dangerously independent. Patricia he could leave in a pasture and she’d be there when he got back. Cynthia would run like hell as soon as he was out of sight, so she stayed in her stall for the entire six months she’d been here except for training sessions.

Ginny and Terry notice the stalls and their occupants too, and simply whimper. Their nightmare is only beginning, and the realization is horrifying to them. I plan to spend a few months training them, and then they go to auction. But first I’m going to bed them down into stalls of their own, and then - I plan to finish with Ginny what I started in the trailer. Surprisingly, from the look in her eye and the way she continues to grind her thighs together and is practically air humping even now, she may even be looking forward to it.

God I love modern chemistry!