"Cut! Okay, everybody break for lunch. Be back here in an hour!"

The cast and crew of the TV show Bridal Bridle quickly left the stable, leaving just the director and the star of the show. Tawny-haired Bree waited in her stall, clad only in ponygirl tack and pink vintage fifties bullet bra and firm-control girdle, until Jack came over and removed the bit from her mouth. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and worked her sore jaw muscles before she spoke.

"Jesus, Jack, can't you just let me out of this get-up ONCE during the day. It's confining and humiliating enough as it is."

"Dammit, Bree-- you know how long it takes to get you ready for the next scene. We just can't afford to waste that much time."

"But I'm in this shit twelve to fourteen hours a day. The damn bra and girdle are bad enough, but these high-heeled pony boots are making my feet so numb, I'm afraid my toes are gonna fall off from lack of circulation. My jaw is sore from this stupid rubber bit, my arms are stiff from being in the same position all day, and my pussy is sore from this damn crotch strap. I can't even go to the bathroom by myself-- you know how humiliating that is?"

The director got a sports bottle with a straw and held it up to her mouth.

"Just remember that we're a big hit and you're making a lot of money. Not to mention the fact that you're not an unknown, anymore. You're bigger than Angelina What's-Her-Name," he joked.

"I'm known all right-- for prancing around in lingerie and bondage gear and making horsey sounds. This is a joke. I'm a classically-trained actress, Jack. I want to expand my range. Do theater or movies."

The director pushed the end of the straw in her mouth to shut her up. They had had this conversation before, but this time she was getting annoying.

"Remember, you ARE under contract. You break that contract, you get sued, everybody here loses their job, and we lose our major sponsors, Whores Whisperer Pony Tack and Bobbie Sexx Retro Lingerie."

"Okay. Fine," she said through the straw, but her voice and attitude said otherwise.

Bree didn't want to go to work the next day, because they were shooting the scenes at the race track. Her mood was dour as the wardrobe person put on her restraints. Being in constant bondage was becoming an all-too-familiar feeling; she could feel the leather straps on her body even when she wasn't wearing her tack, and she found she often had to make a conscious effort to move her arms and legs freely. The armor-like fifties lingerie and the pony tack were bad enough, but she was also burdened with reins, check reins, blinders, head poles, and the constant sting of the riding crop. Not only that, she had to endure scenes of having her bullet bra stuffed to give her an edge at the finish line and jokes about being sent to the glue factory if she lost.

They spent all day at the track, and she had to race so many times she lost count. She had to shower and have her bra and girdle changed several times before they finished. At the end of the day, she was exhausted, her feet throbbed from having to run all day in pony boots, her ass stung from the riding crop, and her neck was stiff and sore from the check reins.

It was bad enough that she had had to do episodes where she ran away and was captured by a traveling circus, or was judged in a 4-H contest at the county fair, or had to be a last-minute replacement for one of the horses in a team pulling a Fourth of July parade float, but this was the most demeaning episode yet. They finally got her to win a race by dangling diamond earrings in her face, and her scenes of running the final race were comically speeded up. There were more jokes of her being entered in the Kentucky Derby or charging other owners for the privilege of being mated with champion stallions to produce more winners. In the end, Ned and Biff's plan was busted by the authorities, and Babs was put back in her stall and given a few sugar cubes as a reward.

Bree spat out the bit almost before the wardrobe person had finished unbuckling it.

"That's it, Jack. I'm done. I don't care if I get sued and never work another day in my life. Now get me out of this shit!"

Nobody moved or spoke.

"WELL?!?"

The wardrobe person shoved the bit back in her mouth and quickly buckled it tight. The shocked actress screamed garbled obscenities and struggled frantically to escape from her leather harness. The director approached her.

"I'm afraid we can't let that happen, Bree."

The next two episodes dealt with Communist agents kidnapping Babs to determine if they could brainwash other women to be like her, and Ned attempting to hypnotize her into thinking like a human again, only to reverse the process when she turned into a demanding shrew.

Bree seemed to disappear from public life, even as the popularity of her show grew, only surfacing to give an occasional brief interview or publicity appearance, invariably in her trademark lingerie and pony tack (her appearance on a popular late-night talk show doubled its ratings). Critics noted that her performances were better and more enthusiastic than ever. In fact, she even did several commercials for the two sponsors.

THE END