Chapter I
I will start my story with the most striking image, the one that got me hooked: A young woman standing in the middle of a dark room, her head shaved except for a strawberry blonde mohawk, her body toned, her legs strong. She was naked and her breasts were a sight to behold: Naturally tanned, medium-sized, beautifully shaped and perky, with metal rings going through her small, pink nipples.
But more important than her tits was the way this woman was being presented to me. Because when I said that she was naked I admit that I held back a few minor details.
This girl was naked - except for a leather harness and a heavy collar, and there was also a tight crotch strap that sank deep between her cuntlips. She was also wearing a pair of hoof boots, and her arms had been restrained thoroughly, packed into a tight armbinder on her back. The leather compressed them so cruelly that her strong upper arms were positively bulging, and the tightness of it all forced her to keep her body very upright, shoulders pulled backwards in an effort to compensate for the strain.
The dark room that this particular woman was standing in was a horse stall. The stall was part of the stables of an old farm. And the farm belonged to a piece of land a friend of mine had bought a while ago.
It was my first visit. He had invited me for the weekend. I expected beer, barbecue and light hearted talk about girls, boats and cars. I had not expected to find something like this tied woman.
"You can touch her," my friend said with a smile. "Don't worry, she is not going to kick you. Get closer, check her out."
"I can see that she won't kick," I answered, trying to keep my cool as much as possible. But my cheeks were flushing. "You took precautions!" The girls' knees had been hobbled with a leather strap, so kicking was indeed no option for her. All she could do was stare at me, blink and flare her nostrils.
I was so surprised that I functioned on autopilot. I was not sure if this was a joke. I half expected them both to burst into laughter any second. But then my eyes adjusted to the gloom in the stall and I noticed the welts and bruises that were marking this girl's ass, thighs and breasts: Some of the bruises were fresh, black and blue. Others were green or yellow and already fading. The welts marked her all over, and those also looked quite serious. This was not the result of a playful spanking, this had been caused by constant correction and punishment.
I concluded that this was not some kind of trick. It was a long term-arrangement. She had been punished with a crop and a whip, many times over the course of at least the past weeks.
Then there was the gag she was wearing: This was no playful, cheap plastic bit gag like the ones an amateur kinkster would buy in your run-of-the-mill sexshop. The head harness consisted of several connected straps that went beneath her chin, behind her head and across her cheeks, joining together on her forehead. The gag looked like it was made from rubber-covered metal, u-shaped and serving as a bit as much as as a tongue-suppressor. The whole design served to confound the features of her face, making her look more like a bridled animal and less like a human female.
And finally there was the tail. This was the detail that finally won me over: The crotchstrap held an anal plug in the girls ass, and from that plug stuck out a strawberry-coloured ponytail. It was obviously the same hair which had been taken from her scalp.
I love ponygirls. I have been fascinated by them for years. I always dreamed of training one. Now I stood here in front of this... creature. I could smell the leather, the hay on the ground. And, frankly, I could also smell her body: Warm skin, sweat and some drool, musk.
She groaned and weakly tried to move her arms. It was useless, the armbinder much too tight. She produced a very weak, insecure sob. It was unbelievably exciting.
"So... who is this? I never met this slave of yours before."
I took the leash that was dangling from her head harness. I tugged it carefully and she was forced to bend her head to the side, as far as the collar allowed. Her eyes stayed on my face, wide and pleading. Her lips were trembling around the gag. She did not try to speak, but I could see that she was contemplating the option. Part of her wanted to cry out, to scream or beg.
"No, you have never met her. I prefer to keep her a secret," Mike laughed. He folded his muscular arms in front of his chest, his broad face filled with amusement. He enjoyed this situation immensely, I could see. "You are one of, oh, maybe four people who know about her. This is Sunshine."
I grinned, tugged the leash again and looked into the ponygirls green, wide eyes. "I am pretty sure that this is not your birth name, is it dear Sunshine?"
I stroked her face. I was aroused, my cock getting harder with every second. Such a pretty woman, restrained and thoroughly degraded . She could see that I did not feel much empathy for her. She sobbed again, bit harder on the gag, and produced a helpless mewl. Just for a second she strained against the harness. Only now did I realize that it was not just laced or buckled, but that it was secured at several vital points with small padlocks. There was no way she would ever be able to free herself from these restraints.
And she knew that too. She gave up her futile attempt after less than a second. It was as if a very small flame of rebellion had flickered just for a heartbeat.
"Her birth name is not that important," Mike said with a shrug. "Maybe you saw her on the news once or twice? Two years ago she was a college athlete from downstate. She used to run the 100 and 200 meters in... how many seconds?" He frowned, then chuckled. "I don't remember. It's not that important anyways. She was successful for a while, whatever that means. Then she became my ponygirl. She is still a fast runner, it's just a different discipline."
I looked at Sunshine again and took it all in. I tried to imagine that pretty face without the head harness and the bit. Now I remembered who this was. For a moment I could not believe it. I admit that I felt insecure, confused and a bit nervous.
"I remember her," I said. "Sophie MacSomething. She was a veritable prodigy."
"She still is," Mike said. "A really gifted girl, a record setter." He was now eyeing me up. "You are not freaking out, are you?"
"No," I said. I would have said that anyways, even if I had intended to run to the police as soon as possible. But after a second of checking my feelings I broke into laughter.
"What's so funny?" Mike was grinning too. I guess he already had an idea of what I was going to say.
"It's unbelievable," I said, still laughing. "You are worried that I'll tell you this is wrong, or that I'll be apalled but... jesus fucking christ Mike, how cool is this?"
The poor, sobbing Sunshine stared at me in utter despair. I shook my head, giggling almost hysterically. "I remember her! This is the girl we saw running when we visited the state finals. We got invited by the Rotary Club. You joked about how much you wanted to fuck this strawberry-haired runner girl."
Mike nodded, very relieved. "You remember!"
"I do, yes. And here we are, two and a half years later, and you got this girl in your... stable!" I managed to compose myself. I looked at her, then at him"You took her and turned her into this. Let me guess... she did not consent to this, did she?"
"Are you kidding me? What sane woman would consent to this kind of life?" Mike answered, grinning. "No, I needed to, uh, persuade sweet Sunshine. This is her only life now."
"Will you tell me how you did it?"
"Yes. Let's go back inside, drink a beer. It's a long story, and at the same time a surprisingly simple one."
"Beer is good. I also won't say no to something stronger."
We left the stall and Mike locked Sunshine back in. I think that inside she was freaking out a bit, at least I think I heard some noises. But the stable has sturdy, soundproof doors, and soon we could concentrate on the important business of catching up.