- PAGE THIRTY -
FEATURED STORY - 010
Teresa was bored, but no one cared. At five foot, five inches tall, weighing 110 pounds and with a phenomenal figure of 36DD-24-36, she could have been doing anything, she knew. However, she couldn't change her situation now and so suffered her boredom as best she could.
At first it had been hard for her to get used to the fact that I would never again permit her to have the use of her arms and hands, and yes, the initial weeks of having them fastened up between her shoulders, steel-banded together at wrist and elbow, then tightened into her body had been exceedingly hard; but now she was used to the fact that she was utterly unable to help herself and therefore would always need to be looked after by me, however I decided she should be cared for.
I observed her from the doorway, where, for the moment she lay back on the couch, dressed only in her harness, bridle, and bit, lazily watching the TV through the framing of her blinkers. Occasionally she kicked her booted and heavily horse shoe shod feet against the short hobble that joined her permanent stainless ankle cuffs hidden beneath them and shook her head a little within the confines of her nearly too snug, wide steel collar. With every movement of her head she felt the tug and swing of the reins clipped to the ends of the long bit arms protruding a good four inches out in front of her face. I’d been kind though and left their six foot lengths free of tension, only locking the ends of the sturdy leather straps to a convenient floor ring. She couldn’t escape. Her bit was never removed now and so she had grown used to its constant intrusion into her mouth, but hated the way that its wide, spatulate paddle covered her tongue, right to the back of her mouth, preventing any sort of human-like speech.
All she was capable of doing, since I’d fitted her with it then locked her pierced tongue to the internal paddle was to whinny and whine pitifully. As usual, she had also been locked onto a room leash; this a light but strong chain some 20 feet long, permanently connected to the back ring of her collar. That too she had eventually grown used to - knowing she would not be allowed more freedom than that at any time for the remainder of her life. The other end of the room leash was locked to a sturdy ring set solidly set into the floor behind her.
It was a real pleasure, I reflected, to watch my fully-controlled Horse Woman just lay and stare at the TV in a mindless haze, but that was about to change. It was time for her to be taken to her Exercise Chamber, where she now spent the majority of her days.
I walked over to the ring to which her reins had been locked and released them, then turned to face her bridle-framed face. Teresa's blue, long lashed eyes stared back at me from within her blinkers and she shook her head slightly; eyes filling with tears, for she knew what was to come. A low incoherent moan came from around her bit when she attempted to open her mouth and beg not to be taken to her exercise.
I ignored her despair and snapped the reins, eliciting a sharp wail of misery, when, within her mouth, the U fastened to her tongue flickered, jerking on it painfully; reinforcing to her that she was hopelessly controlled. Unable to resist the demand of her reins and the discipline they enforced, she rose swiftly and somewhat awkwardly to her feet then turned to face me when I applied more tension. She whinnied querulously, disliking intensely the movements of the bit that dragged at her tongue, but I drew her in closer to me, then walked over and unlocked her room leash, hooking its loops up behind her back to the collar ring. While I did, her tightly gloved fingers inside the rigid little leather bag that contained her hands, fluttered briefly in useless protest, but the bag was connected to her shoulder harness and also to the back ring of her collar, forever denying her the use of her hands. Over the past months since our marriage, she’d almost become used to having to wear it and her harness, bridle and bit, 24/7, but what could she do to escape them? Nothing. Nothing at all.
It had not been an easy adjustment for Teresa to make, having been used to the freedom of being a woman on her own terms; yet, her present state was one that she’d yearned desperately for in some future existence; not realizing that she would soon be irrevocably and deeply ensnared within her role ... for the rest of her life.
With a snap of her reins, I drew her from the relaxing environment of the TV room. She pranced daintily along behind me, her horse shoe shod hooves clip-clopping hollowly on the golden wood floor and a moment later I led her out into the back paddock for a session of walking, cantering, and galloping. Naturally, I kept her on lunge and bit reins during this exercise, ensuring she was kept constantly reminded of her status with the judicious use of the long, buggy whip; either trailing it across her juddering buttocks while she circled me on her reins, or sending disciplinary flicks of its tip to the same region. Teresa was soon panting and drooling copiously around her bit, and her distorted squeals and screams of pain and outrage when the whip struck her were an interesting accompaniment to the thudding of her hoofed feet on the sand, the creak of her ensnaring web of harness and the jingling of her chains.
Occasionally when I allowed a little slackness in her reins, she turned to look at me and attempted to speak. I knew she wanted to be allowed to stop and maybe even ask to be freed, but that wasn’t going to happen. Her wails and attempted screams for pity and mercy were distorted into a howling gabble of incomprehensible, animal like noise and then the exercise was continued, aided by a stinging snap of the whip's whistling tip to her shuddering buttocks.
I spent nearly two hours at this pleasant pastime, then disconnected the lunge rein, and with a firm tension on the controlling lines to her bit, drew her back into the house and down to the Playroom area, and finally into the Exercise Cell. It was time for her stamina training and this was much more intense and strenuous than what she had so far today endured. Now, every day, I required that she complete a prolonged stint on the machine that she’d grown to hate intensely. Restrained as she was though, there was no possible way she could avoid her coming workout. Despite her increasingly desperate, whinnying protests and fighting against the command of her reins, she had no choice but to follow me obediently to the sound proofed cell containing the treadmill. At one point she tried to resist by standing with her legs braced and bent forward; but after a brief, writhing fight against her reins she stumbled in tears into the Exercise Cell, then up onto the treadmill’s belt.
Moments later she was hitched in place.
Her hobble chain ensured that her paces would have to be small and very fast, keeping her on tip toes in order to run. Safety straps from the overhead frame to her harness were clipped to the rein guides at the top of each shoulder, then came the fastenings she dreaded. Shivering and controlled by her regular reins, she looked fearfully into my face while I concentrated on completing them. Her tearful, silent, pleading and the shaking of her en trammelled head had no impact though. It was going to happen whether she wished it to or not. Her training, here, was only one of the many facets of her contract of slavery.
Fine, yet sturdy chains connected the rings on the long bit arms to the thick, stainless steel U’s, each deeply mounted in her nipples. Her wonderful breasts heaved with fear and arousal while I cupped them in my palms, then I released the left one and with a small click of the snap-hook through the right nipple U, imprisoned and tethered the tumescent, trembling mound. The chain betokened an embarrassing bondage that she, as a Horse Woman, submitted herself to every day. My hand dropped away from the warm, goose-bumped breast and she couldn’t help the yelp of discomfort that welled from her steel-banded throat when she again had to accept the control that could be exerted with only small tensions on her sensitive and hardened nipple. A small up-welling of fluid emerged unbidden from the flinty nubbin and she whined and shivered, twisting in her harness when my mouth fastened over it, then teased it to even further erection, suckling avidly. The vacuum I created over her straining, steel-impaled flesh was astoundingly arousing, even for the harnessed and helpless Teresa, for there was no way she could stop or avoid it. My teeth nipped and nibbled lightly around the deeply transfixing steel, tugging gently, while across and around the entire surface my tongue wove and writhed, flickering back and forth with maddening, unavoidable sensation. She whinnied frenziedly and jerked her head madly against the singular, for the moment, connection, making her regular reins sway and snap over my back. Her head movements though were soon a thing of the past, for with every twitch, it tugged painfully at her breast also.
A moment later, her left breast and nipple were similarly captives to the bit. With a subdued moan she moved her head cautiously and what little she could manage against the restriction of the inter-connecting chains, feeling the drag of the connection to her nipples. From within her blinkers, she stared resentfully then fearfully at me, knowing that there was more to come. I smiled at her evident uneasiness and restrained arousal, asserting that, really, this small ceremony each day was necessary, despite her desire to escape her fate. Oh, certainly, she wanted out: and right now; but at the same time she knew that she couldn’t escape what was about to occur. I moved behind her, then slowly tightened the bearing reins so that her head was drawn erect and back, thus enforcing my desire that she carry herself proudly. The sounds of those straps being adjusted and threaded through their locking buckles added to her sense of bondage and being controlled, then I tightened them even more.
A sharp howl of discomfort pulsed her collared throat when suddenly, she felt the connecting chains to her breasts pulled smoothly upwards, immediately placing her nipples under an increasingly painful strain. Teresa stood utterly still, panting from the discomfort of the demanded posture and the inescapable tensions to her chest; her mouth jacked open by the twisting of the steel bit within, pressing up against her palate and dragging her tongue with it. Her eyes followed my fingers and hands when I again moved in front of her, watching fearfully while I clipped the treadmill’s control reins to the central ring of each inter-connector chain between her nipples and the bit.
There was no way out for her. If she attempted to look down, the bearing reins stopped her from lowering her head, and when she tried to twist away from the approaching reins, the chains immediately dragged painfully at her nipples and so she had to hold still for her fastening. Another despairing wail emerged from her bitted-mouth while I clipped them in place and her eyes rolled desperately from side to side within the limits of her blinkers. Unthinkingly, she shook her chest to try and escape the tensioned drag of the U’s and chains from the tips of her breasts, only to have her head dragged back around by the masses of the swaying, fleshy globes.
With brimming eyes, she fearfully watched me lead the controlling lines out in front then lock them to their metre apart connection points. The rings to which they were clipped, though solidly affixed to the frame of the treadmill, were in fact attached to spring-loaded, sliding switches. For the moment they looped slightly downwards. I coiled her regular reins in my left hand and unclipped them from her bit, then looked deeply into her eyes and face, shadowed within the blinkers.
"It's time, little Horse Woman." I informed her. She whinnied in fearful terror, shaking visibly in her harness and bonds.
At her back, I connected a dangling coil cord to a jack on a short wire emerging from the cinch of her harness. Its other end led to a deeply skewering dildo mounted securely on the interior surface of her tightly clamped steel chastity cover.
Teresa’s wails of distress and misery at what was about to happen to her echoed hollowly inside the small sound-proofed room in which she was to be left for the next four hours and she began to prance in place, nervously straining to prepare herself. After a final check on her restraints, I walked to the end of the room then closed the heavy, sound-proofed door softly behind me. She heard the muffled click of the three locks when their bolts shot home, imprisoning her in the hidden chamber at the far end of the deep basement. Outside was a small control panel mounted to the cement wall and my hand moved to the ‘Start’ switch and flicked it to the 'On' position. Next to the windowless door was a small closed circuit TV monitor and for a moment I watched what was happening within the sealed and silent room beyond the six inch thick wall.
Beneath her booted and steel-shod feet the belt began to slide away from under Teresa’s prancing hooves and I stepped back to the control panel and activated the automatic exercise program she was compelled to submit to each day. I returned my gaze to the monitor and watched carefully while she began jogged along the belt, held in her place by the multiple chains and leashes connected to her harness. She couldn't turn her head thanks to the reins to her breasts and bit and the blinkers required her to stare directly forward at her reflection in the mirror; to see how thoroughly controlled she was, and so she had to concentrate on walking and running within the confines of the shortened hobble.
"See you in a couple of hours, Slave Girl." I murmured and walked to the stairs, climbing them to the upper floor and locking the door at their top.
Inside the Exercise Cell, a despairing wail boiled from around Teresa's bit and a string of saliva escaped the tightly drawn steel; but there was to be no escape for her despite the frantic pleading she attempted to voice, to be released from her slavery and horse status. She had to do as she was commanded. Completely alone, she began her daily stamina training, for it was an automated and merciless process that she hated and feared, even after just the first day. She knew without a doubt that she was completely isolated in this room of torture and tears, and other than the treadmill and her chains to the wall rings, only a pair of video cameras broke the desolation of the stark concrete walls, ceiling and floor. The room was brightly illuminated by bulbs within armoured glass domes in the ceiling. I had informed her that the Exercise Cell was completely sound-proofed and no one would hear her screams, sobs, or her desperate begging to be freed.
At first she was walked slowly, being warmed up for the more strenuous exercise to come. For the moment, the gentle snubbing of her hobble chains, tugging against her wide steel ankle cuffs, was only a mild annoyance, and she was easily capable of maintaining her required position. Even so, the movements of the reins to her inter-connecting chains made her tensioned and unsupported breasts swing uncomfortably back and forth, tugging constantly at her bit.
‘Oh, damn!’ she moaned to herself, ‘Why hadn’t she been harnessed more fully?’
Her other harnesses had some sort of bra-support built into them, so why not this one? It was then that Teresa realized that today this was not only exercise, but discipline too! She attempted to lower her head to ease the tension on her burning nipples, but the tight bearing reins prevented any relief for as a Horse Woman, she had to endure the very uncomfortable restriction as best she could. The treadmill slowly began to accelerate and the sounds of her steel horse shoe shod feet upon the belt increased to a staccato beat so that the snapping of her hobble chain became a continuous rattling accompaniment to her bondage. To keep up with the increasing speed and avoid the tugging control and demand of the treadmill’s reins, Teresa had to rise up onto the toes of the steel-shod boots when she began to jog and quite naturally, her breasts began to sway and bounce more and more with her increased exertion. In moments the painful, continual jerking of the steel shackles embedded in her nipples became a torment she couldn’t ignore and sharp yelps then screams of distress echoed in the small chamber, but no one other than her heard her cries. To Teresa, it felt as though the thick steel posts in her nipples were intelligent demons of torment! For a minute or so she was kept at this pace, then once more the machine accelerated! Her keening, incoherent howl of despair filled the room while her flying feet fought to attain the speed that was required to hold her place. It was a losing battle. Slowly, she was drawn further and further backwards along the treadmill belt.
Wildly apprehensive, her eyes flickered back and forth within the limiting confines of her blinkers while she observed the slow, inevitable tightening of the chains to her nipple/bit inter-connector chains! With a bit gagged and strangled scream, she howled helplessly, still trying to keep up with the insatiable and ultimately unfillable demand of the treadmill; anticipating the pain soon that was soon to be hers.
The fastening of her bearing reins and wearing of the blinkers forced her to look ahead and observe the tightening of the potently controlling lines fastened to her body and they slowly straightened, then, while she continued to loose ground, began to pull ever more firmly at the evil chains connected to her face and chest! The dragging on her breasts and nipples soon became an unbearable burden, and she screamed madly even while trying to run faster! For a moment, she succeeded in easing the tension and managed to stare wildly in tears a little off to the side, then the demand of the treadmill reasserted itself when she slowed. Its speed now remained constant and her feet and legs were a blur of motion; her hoofs thundering along on the speeding belt. The snapping hobble chains sounded as a constant background, for now, her stamina was truly being tested.
Teresa could barely manage to maintain the speed that had been reached and when she failed to do so, she was subjected to the horrible, inescapable drag on her breasts and nipples! Gasping screams of tear-filled desperation from the effort to maintain her speed pulsed from her steel banded throat, but she was helplessly chained and vulnerable: totally alone with no one to take pity on or release her. Soon, she couldn’t help but slow eventually and of course when she did, the reins to her chest tightened into straight lines of thrumming, painful discipline. She ran on and on, endlessly encouraged by her fastenings to improve her endurance, then suddenly the tightening reins activated a switch.
Deep within her loins, the dildo unleashed an at first mild series of electrical impulses into the surrounding flesh of her womb and she screamed lustily, twisting frantically within the strict confinement of her bondage and harnessing, even while continuing to run. She almost collapsed from the intimate torment of the dildo’s erratic movement within her belly and pulsing electrical shocks, writhing her hips and lower body instinctually and automatically to try and escape the horrid discipline. Again and again they transfixed her most private possession, then, in a wild flailing of disorganized legs, she lost her footing on the speeding belt! Her nipple restraint chains tightened even more, escalating the power surging through her body and wringing yet more agonized screams from the captive horse woman. Then, the pulses ceased for thirty seconds and she struggled frenziedly to regain her footing, knowing that if she failed, the shocks would again discipline her for not attaining and staying at the demanded level of exertion. Tears of misery flooded from her eyes and down her face under the tight straps of her bit. Shaking her head against the restriction of the bridle, its bit and the tight reins, she tasted their saltiness, weeping piteously, trying to beg for her freedom. It was no use. She was condemned, by her own hand, to spend her life like this! At last the machine slowed, and although she felt that she’d been running for hours and hours, in reality it had only been 30 minutes. She was allowed to rest for five more of 'walking out', then a low chime sounded from the pedestal.
Once more the treadmill slowly increased its speed until she was again drawn into the hazy world of unending exercise; wailing and uselessly pleading for release while being driven to further and further heights of pain and pleasure. She was a totally owned and controlled Horse Woman. Deep in her mind a clock seemed to slow and somehow it felt to her as though she’d always done this, and that she would always be here, in this room. The next three and a half hours were an endless time of solitary trauma for the captive Horse Woman, Teresa.
I watched her perform as her program demanded on the TV monitor in the living room upstairs. The Exercise Chamber, equipped with two strategically placed, colour cameras, presented me with multiple views of her straining and en trammelled body.
At the end of the four hour exercise, I returned to the Cell and released her from the machine. Teresa was a sobbing jelly-legged survivor and for once I took pity on her and drew her along the hall then upstairs, and eventually to my bedroom. Normally, after her exercise, I placed her in her box stall/cell, placed her on her cross ties and allowed her to recover for an hour before coming back and feeding her dinner.
Tonight was different though. It was her first anniversary of becoming a Horse Woman and she was to be rewarded. I immediately connected her house leash to a chain dangling from the heavy beam overhead at the centre of the room, then removed her bearing reins, leaving the ones that connected to her breasts still attached. She turned to stare at me from within her blinkers, the sturdy leather straps swinging from the ends of the long bit arms; her eyes glittering with lust, for she knew what was coming.
I reached out and grasped the twinned straps to her face, then drew her over to the side of the room where a set of trapezes dangled on chains from another sturdy beam; each controlled by an electric hoist. From the ends of each trapeze bar a sturdy chain dangled, waiting. In a seconds I had her positioned between one of the sets of chains, then clipped one to each of the heavy harness rings over her hips while she shuddered with anticipation, whinnying plaintively.
"Yes, Horse Woman." I smiled, readying the next trapeze and watching her shift nervously on her horse shoe shod feet, "You're going to get fucked tonight, just like the animal you are.
"In case you've lost track, this is your First Anniversary of becoming my Horse Woman and it's going to be your reward."
I connected the second set of chains to her shoulder top harness rings and one from the centre of the bar to the back ring of her wide collar, leaving the room leash to dangle to the floor beneath her, then to hold her head up took long springs from the ends of that same bar and clipped them to the sides of her bridle, just behind her blinker mounting straps. She'd be able to bob her head slightly, but not turn it from side to side without considerable effort. Next, I bent down and released the short hobble chain from her ankle cuffs, then attached chains from widely separated floor rings to the outer ones on her ankle cuffs, protruding through their apertures in her boots.
It was time to begin and I quickly divested myself of all clothing then stood behind her with the hoists' controls in hand. A press of the appropriate lift and lower buttons soon had her suspended with her hips at my crotch level, then I moved around in front of her and connected the dangling leash to the front ring of her collar. It was easy to pull down on it so that she immediately overbalanced and fell forward until stopped by the shoulder chains, swinging back and forth while wailing plaintively.
The now front of the collar connected chain fell naturally near a floor ring beneath her and I fastened it loosely. With her head hanging down to the limit of the springs to her bridle, it was simple for me to grasp her reins and lead them out to the rings waiting for them on the wall. I clipped them in place then tightened them until she was drawn a little forward and the gagging bit made itself horribly apparent. Drooling uncontrollably around the deeply penetrating steel paddle over her tongue, she began to moan and shudder with arousal when I took other light chains from the same ring and drew them up to her interconnecting nipple and bit chains, clipped them on and tightened them a little. The next part of her bondage was about to be enacted.
She was to be blinded.
I released the separated blinkers and quickly folded them closed across her face, locking their deeply padded interiors snugly against her closed eyes and sweating face. Moving back to her suspended bottom, I took the key to the steel chastity cover and slipped it into the locks securing the impenetrable barrier. They popped open with quiet mechanical clicks and the tightly cupping steel slowly separated from her flesh. I held its warmed metal in my hand and allowed her body to slowly expel the deeply embedded disciplinary dildo, then removed it completely from her while she sighed in gratitude to be free of the punishing arrangement for a short time.
Teresa needed a wash and soon I was happily cleaning her depilated crotch, while she, fully suspended shuddered with the sensations. When I'd finished, she hung quietly, only her snorting breathing around her bit and through her septum ringed nose belying her aroused state. Now, I moved off to the right side and tightened the chain to her ankle cuff, pulling it widely outward, then did the same with her left leg so that she hung completely suspended and totally vulnerable.
Her ensemble was not only used to discipline and control , but used also to render her available for sex any time I wished it, for in effect it was a Mating Harness as well as fulfilling its regular functions. The sight of her restrained and hanging body, made available for me, was deeply arousing! I moved up between her forcibly splayed legs and began to caress her labia and clitoris and she wailed deeply, writhing in her restraints to either escape or to enhance what I was doing to her body, but there was no escape.
I bent low and moved in close, laving my tongue around the lust infused flesh and at the same time, moved my hands forward to gently at first, thrum the chains to her breasts and bit. Teresa howled with the flood of maddening but unavoidable sensation that washed through her bound body, writhing demonically above me and adding even more to the cruel tugging on her captive flesh. I kept this up for as long as I could stand it, then stood between her muscle cording legs and guided myself into her dripping channel.
She bucked in a maddened frenzy while teased her with small thrusts, then at last, unable to with hold myself any longer, I plunged my full length into her sex, reveling in the sensation of warm encapsulation of her captive body. if anything her frantic twisting, writhing and bouncing flared higher and higher and her lust filled, incoherent wails filled the room.
Teresa was nearly insane from the wash of sensations. Blinded and suspended, bound into utter helplessness and vulnerability, gagged with a punishing bit, she had no choice but to accept what was being done to her.
I withdrew and paused for a moment, watching her shudder and writhe, then entered her again and again in a quickening cadence until I felt an unstoppable release build and finally jet from my body. She gave a long scream of satisfaction and flailed as best she could against her chains, then fainted dead away. Sagging back, I watched her in fascination while the residual shudders of her orgasm died slowly away, then tu8rned and staggered to the bathroom for a shower, leaving her exactly as she was.
Twenty minutes later I returned and washed her completely. While I attended to her needs, she made pitiful whining noises and I knew she was trying to beg to be freed of her servitude as a Horse Woman and my slave, but I had no intention of freeing her ... ever.
Her night of reward was not over though!
I retrieved the now cleaned chastity cover plate and soon had re-introduced the dildo then locked everything tightly and securely closed. While I did, she screamed and howled, attempting to avoid being reimprisoned by the punitive device, but of course couldn't stop it from being done. She hung there as I'd left her, but now fully sealed once more. Reaching to a dangling coil cord, I plugged it into the receptacle on her cinch, then moved to my bedside table on which a laptop computer sat. The other end of the cord was quickly plugged into an available USB port and I powered up the machine.
An array of programs immediately appeared; some for discipline and others for pleasure. I selected the one called 'MIXTURE' then settled back on the bed to watch what happened. Teresa's hips began a slow rolling motion when the dildo emitted mild pulses of teasing energy and this quickened rapidly into a hard bucking when the electro-shock increased the speed duration and frequency of stimulation. She swung erratically back and forth against her restraining and suspending chains, feeling the harsh tugs on her breasts and bit and began to scream out her arousal and pain, unable to stop her body's own reactions! Already aroused form the previous orgasm, her ascent to her second one and then third, fourth and fifth was much moire rapid and she became a madly howling, restrained dervish.
I threw on a dressing gown and went down to the kitchen for a snack and a drink, leaving her to be amused and tormented by the program. With the upstairs bedroom door closed, I could not hear any of her frantic cries for it all to stop, and so settled down into a comfortable chair and turned on the TV to watch the News.
Many hours later I came awake with a start and foggily remembered that I'd left Teresa to the not so tender mercies of the computer program. I knew that she'd not be too over-stressed by the program, but it would certainly have wrung her out. When I opened the door to the bedroom, all was silent, then I walked over to where she hung in her chains, motionless. Her even breaths hissed out from around her nose ring and the occasional shudder ran through her body. However, her respite was not to be a long one, for when I looked at the clock, I knew that in about two hours she would be awakened once more by the insidious program and taken once more to the heights or arousal, and thus the revelation, once more, of the depths of her slavery.
Teresa had asked to be made into a Horse Woman, then when I showed a little reluctance, she’d gotten down on her knees and begged me to make her one. Now, her dream was coming true; but in a much more intense fashion than she’d ever imagined was possible.
THIS IS PAGE THIRTY OF THE FICTION SECTION
FICTION SECTION ARCHIVE PAGE
- HOME PAGE -