© Copyright 2019 - XVX - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-M; bar; FM; invite; F/m; drug; kidnap; bodymod; ponyboy; harness; bitgag; chast; electro; shock; training; cond; F/fm; ponygirl; bdsm; punish; bond; captives; stuck; mating; cons/nc; X
Michael St, John felt good about the interview. He would show up Monday to see if he got the job. The Miami gold coast strip was everything he thought it would be, he was staying at a cheap motel inland but had the weekend. Might as well make the most of it. He was new in town and after the third bar. Hit it off with a smoking hot red head in a red mini dress that suggested everything and hid nothing. She had small gold chain necklace with a horseshoe. He was chatting her up and she took an interest in him. He thought he hit the jackpot when she invited him over to her place a few block away.
Feeling lucky they both walked to her place. A good fifteen blocks. But he enjoyed the walk and she told him about the local area. Her love of horses and horse racing. How she was too tall to be a jockey. She scuba dived. Which sounded something Michael wanted to learn. She was learning to be a dental assistant and was taking the summer off. Rena was her name.
They arrived at Sunbelt Apartments. Some converted freezer cold storage warehouse. Taking the freight elevator up because the other elevator was out of order. A number of apartments were still being renovated. He talked about his home town of Salem and Boston Worked during the day at fish markets and ironically ice houses and went to night school. He felt like he could tell her anything. And did.
The drinks kept flowing. You did not grow up where he did without handling your Irish whiskey. She had him take off his shoes and gave him a foot rub.
Then a back rub with his shirt off.
Oh god, this was going to be great.
He was on his third or forth belt when he passed out. Odd. He drank more than this in his life and could still keep the lights on.
That was the last thought he had.
Recovery after passing out is always a wonder to both man and nature. This was something oddly different. Michael heard things that did not register. His brain went through a rolodex of sounds and though he heard a dentist drill? Then he passed out again.
This time her felt funny. Not in a good way. He was resting on something hard. His hands would not work. Or where caught on something. He felt cold. Information to his head was updating like computer coming on. Audio then video then upload program. Something was in his mouth. Something was holding his arms at his sides. His hands felt a rod he could grasp but where inside a mitten or something. Something was on his head. Something was on his feet. In fact a number of ‘something’s’ was being input to his brain. All felt wrong.
Eyes not opened. His tongue felt a flat rod in his mouth. It went back into a gap at the back of his mouth. Odd. He had all his teeth. Or did have.
At the corner of his mouth he felt the rod exit. Braces?
Daring to make sense of all this was relenting to opening of the eyes. Oddly a polished metal mirror was in front of him. Starting at the top and looking down. He began to take all this in. His hair was combed into a pony tail and trimmed short on the sides like a marine hair cut. Giving it a mane like look. A head harness framed his face securing what he could only describe as a bit. Like you would use for a horse.
A wide collar around his neck with segmented boxes around it. He could feel something pressing again his throat. He was bare-chested except for another harness. A set of chains on each shoulder went the ceiling. A glance up showed a giant like wheel above his head with winches that would take up the chain. The harness secured his hands and arms at his sides. His hands where inside some sort of hoof like leather mitten with a hard flat surface. His hand where useless in these things.
Around the waist was the big shocker. Metal straps and leather belts with a tube. He was not sure but the thing entrapped his penis. It could only point down. It also had metal boxes about the size of cigarette pack around it. Michael was not an idiot. This looked like battery packs and he was damm sure this was going to do something to him. Something good or something bad.
Then at the feet he had on boots. With fringes. God he hated fringes. The boot had a short chain going from one ankle to the other. The boots also looked to be a high heel without the heel.
Walking on tip toe? Shit! He was a horse. Or made to be looking like one. The boots where a goddam hoof.
He struggled briefly but knew this was not going to be a one night stand. This bitch did this to him. And she had every intention of not letting him go. He could sense that. This was bad.
Unable to free himself he tried to sit up. Succeeding in that and a small amount of disorientation. He saw toilet across the way. Maybe a good fifty feet. To his right something like a water fountain. To his left a metal tube over a tray. Also to his left was a large door between the toilet and tube. Lights where in the corners. No windows. No clocks.
Having been in a ice houses before. He recognized his new ‘home’ as a freezer locker. Thick walls. Screaming for help was out. He was no Hulk. He could not bust out. No leverage. He just let his hooves dangle over the his bed side..
Taking stock of his situation he knew he needed to stand. The first attempt was no good. Five tries later he had to bend the legs at the knee slightly to readjust his balance.
Now standing. His stomach rumbled. Great. He was hungry. One step at a time he managed about three feet before his chain leashes stopped him.
Motors where locked.
Okay. Sooner or later Rena was going to show up. She had to.
He was about to sit down when the chains motors turned on and took up the slack.
Then the wheel turned. Okay he was on a horse walker. The motor stopped at the water fountain. Then water turned on.
With the bit in his mouth he could drink.
Then the water stopped and the wheel turned. This time stopping at the toilet.
He got the message.
He emptied his bowels and it sprayed water on an into his ass. Then it wiped his butt!
Then the wheel turned again.. This was getting embarrassing. But the options where limited.
He tried again to pull a hoof freed or slip out a hand.
Tight and secured. Buckled and locked. Everything was placed on him was meant to stay. He was meant to stay.
Now stopping at the tube with the food tray. Some pellets began to dribble out. At first he wanted to refuse but hunger took over. He remember what his father said. Some army quote. Eat when you can. Sleep when you can. Michael admitted to himself he was not a strong man. Physically and mentally. His father always thought of him as a push over. If his father could see him now.
‘Hey dad. I got drafted into the Calvary.’
The pellet tasted like oat granola. Starchy.
When or whatever was doing this. Thought he had enough. The wheel turned again over his head. The chains tighten to remove slack. At first he thought he was going back to bed but the wheel kept turning. Pulling him along.
He started counting the time he passed his bed with the mirror. Five times and then the pace picked up. He tried lifting his feet up and ride the thing but that when it shocked him in his man hood. That hurt like hell. Five times around at a faster pace then is slowed down to a walking pace again. Five more circuits.
Then it stopped at the elevated pallet that was his bed. He figured it was nap time. The chain slackened and he laid down. He had avoided yelling and screaming. Mostly because he figured there was no one to hear him. That and if the segment boxes on his neck were batteries. He knew damm well he was going to get shocked. Pain is hell of motivator. He knew that. All too well.
His bed had thin foam cover but was hard as a rock. No pillow. Sleeping was more of exhaustion taking over.
A blaring sound woke him. The chains tighten. Then the water fountain. The toilet. Feeding. Then walking five times. Trotting five circuits with the damn clip clop the boots made. Michael knew this had to be some program. This cycle repeated five more times. He had no idea how often. But he needed to make a plan.
Plan what? You are screwed and you know it. You are a triple crown idiot.
After the sixth time the door slid open and Rena came in with a bucket. She had tight jeans with stripe going down them. Her hair was held back in a pony tail. Satin jacket like she was make believing she was a jockey. A bucket in her right hand. Towel over her shoulder. That same small gold chain necklace with a horseshoe. Pulling out her phone she touched it. Chains reeled him up to a standing position.
He wanted to say something but what?
“So I see you been a good little pony. That’s very good. Good ponies get rewards. You have not made a mess. Messy ponies get punished. You do not want to get punished do you?”
Rena hand floated over the smart phone.
Michael shook his head no. Wary of the phone in her hand.
“That is a good pony. Now you can talk. But only things I want to hear. You are a smart one. Not screaming your head off. And you have not insulted me. So you do have some brains about you.”
Going to the water fountain. It turned on and she filled the bucket taking out a sponge. He knew what was coming. She washed him down and rubbed him. She was getting off on it and so was he. He got hard. Painfully became of the tube.
“Like my little chastity belt. I bet it hurts. Well when you’re really good. We will see about that. I have been thinking of a name for you. I like the name Little John. I bet you know how I came up with that one.”
Michael managed a small grunt then prepared for the shock.
“Now that is a good pony. Ponies do not talk. You figured that out. Very good.”
She dried and wiped him off.
“Now back to bed with you.” She slid the door closed and the chains slacken.
Little John, or just John or Johnnie as she would call him. Came in every six circuit. Sponge bath and small talk. He would grunt. So far he had no plan. Worse the routine was everything.
If he worked it out right. Rena would come in once a day. If she held to a schedule. He was guessing of course. His training happens every four hours. Hell. The army ranger school would be a piece of cake to this. Then she added weights to the ankles. Five pounds each. Worse. It was six time around. Six trotting. Two at a near full run. Then back to six walking.
Keeping count was important. He figured he had blown the interview and had been here over a week. No one had a clue when he would be back. He told what few friends that if he got the job he would be staying. She had his phone and could email them. Not a hard thing to do. So by day ‘fourteen’ he was committed to her and the daily routine. He had no plan and to be honest. Could not see a way out.
It was on day fifteen. Rena came in while he was at the toilet station. She always came in when he was at the bed station. He sat there wondering what was going on.
She had stool and winch. She bolted the winch on to the one of the wheels arms like it was meant to be there. Directly on the opposite side of him. Made some connections. Tested it. Both pair of chains worked as his did. It was not for balancing the wheel he knew that.
She had got another pony. Little John was going to have a roommate. He had mixed emotion on it. The idea of sharing did not feel right but then he would have someone in the same boat as him. Brothers in arms.
Taking the stool with her she came back pushing a wheel chair. There was another person caught in her fantasy. Another pony. He saw it was a female. A woman dressed much like he was. Bit. Collar. Harness. Belt. Boots. Hair cut tight on sides and flowing mane of blond hair in a ponytail. Breast cup of some sort was the only detail that he lacked. Clearly drugged. She was limp in her arms but the winch did all the heavy lifting. Shoved her onto his bed.
“Now John. This is Maid Marion. Or Marion. I could not help it. She was such a catch. Now your training will be a little less until she comes up to speed. You are going to share. So when it is rest time, half the time you will have the bed and half the time you will rest on the toilet. Maybe learn to sleep standing up like a good pony.” Her red painted nails playfully scratched his belly. “You are starting to lose that baby fat. Good. I like my ponies to be slim and trim.”
The back her hand brushed his cheek. He began to be aroused.
“You will eat when she drinks and of course the other way around when you drink.”
“Now, Now. No need to get jealous. Marion needs a firm hand and you can motivate her. I sure she will find comfort knowing a big stud like you can show her the ropes.”
She wheeled out the chair and slid the door closed.
Marion. She should be called millstone. Well at least he would not be running for awhile. Hobbled as Rena called it, kept the temptation of kicking down and limited his stride. Now Marion was going to go though the same hell he was going through. So that was a relief. What was that Churchill said? When going through hell. Keep going.
So he waited. Marion was a heavy sleeper and he tried to wake her. Sooner or later she was going to get dragged out.
Then the alarm rang. John was ready. Marion was not. She stirred but went right back to sleep. Personally if she knew what was in store. She would not want to wake up either. The alarm sound again. This time she began to get her senses back. And she panicked right off the bat. Struggling like crazy. He grunted but dare not say a word.
She tossed over and around the bed. Kicking and trying to throw off her restraints. Marion learned quickly that speaking was a bad idea.
He stomped his ‘hoof’ and shook his head, then lift up his chin to show his collar. He grunted again. Then stomped both hooves. Trying to tell her to get up.
He watched her shudder. She got shocked. Then tried to say something and got shocked again. How thick was she. Then the wheel turned. She had gotten her shoulder leads twisted up and she was going backwards. Stumbling every time. And every time she put stress on her leash. She got shocked. Which made her yell out. Which got her shocked again. Then the fast trot got her all tangled up in her hobble. And she was slowly being dragged around.
John did the most stupid thing. Her tried to slow the wheel down so she could keep up. There was a limit on the strain he could put on his leads before he got punished. Then exaggerated his movements to show her how it was supposed to be done.
Then it was rest time. She had to sit on the toilet while he had the bed. She was crying her eyes out. That was a mistake. Dehydration was not going to make it any easier. Then the cycle started again. Then the water fountain. The toilet. Feeding. Exercise.
The moment she came to bed she tried to climb in. He grunted but she did not get it. And got shocked. It was not rest time.
A five-five-five circuit and she did get the bed. He fell asleep on the toilet. He tried standing up with the chain leads slackened. But he was not good enough for that. He fell over and got a shock.
At about the third circuit. Marion was getting it. Or not stumbling around. Always watching him. Copying his movement. Staying in step with him. As she clip clopped in rhythm to him. Having no choice. You adapted or felt pain.
Six circuits later Rena came in and gave him and her a sponge bath. Rena knew how the push all the right buttons. And the same on Marion. She was getting off on it. That got John aroused.
“Your doing very well Marion. You are learning. Now do not make a mess. Messy ponies get punished, You know what that feels like don’t you.”
Her head was nodding slightly. She was crying.
“Now don’t you cry. It is a waste of tears. Until you are the very best of ponies. I never will let you go.”
John/Michael knew that was a hollow promise. He had heard them many times before.
“Little John is a very good pony. Follow his example and you will be rewarded.”
‘Days’ passed. Marion had her good days and bad days. Mostly bad. She would cry at times and looked to him like it was his fault. Then the circuits increased. She barely made it thought the six walk, six trot. Two run, six walk. He had weights on. She did not. But she was slowing him down. He could feel her pulling on the wheel retarding it. Like an anchor. He pulled to get ahead. Both were shocked. He could only sigh and grunt. Paw the ground and try to make her do what needed to be done. Or both where going to be punished.
Then it was ten pounds to each leg and hers five. The six-six.-two-six was constant. John lost count of the days now thanks to ‘millstone Marion‘.
Some how. Some way. Each day Marion would find a way to screw up and she would get shocked and he would get shocked. Whether it was something in the food or water but pain and what little pleasures he was getting. Seemed more. Better and worse.
His legs where all muscle now. He had a runner’s body. Slim and trim. He made a point to avoid atrophy in fingers, hands and arms. Tighten and relax. Tighten and loosen.
Now Rena added speed bumps. Steeple chase? Only six inches high. But metal pipe she bolted to the floor with a drill. Between toilet and water fountain. No way to kick that aside.
And good ol. Millstone Marion found away to screw that up. She purposely tried to hook her hooves onto the pipe and break the wheel. Shock after shock she and him received until she let go.
It was seven-seven-three-seven now. Millstone was never up on time, Snorted or did something to keep him awake when he had the bed. Stomp her hooves or try to tap out some message he did not understand. One for yes and two for no was the best he could figure out. SOS was the only Morse code he knew. They could neigh, whinny, cough, or bray like a horse. Grunting was also allowed. But anything that came close to a word and you got it. She tried humming a song hoping he might know the lyrics. That got her zapped. If she would just give up the idea that her human life was gone. Things would be easier for her. And for him.
Millstone was always trying to make things harder. Or engineer some escape plan he was no party to.
Rena, Now mistress or master sponge baths where highlight of his day. She knew what to say and what to do. Oddly watching Marion getting bath was just as arousing. She would always do her last.
It was now seven-seven-four-seven. Marion was not able to keep up for long. She drank too much and ate too much causing her to get ill. Knowing full well any mess was punishable.
Days. If you call it that where a blur. If he had to guess. Two months. Then the final straw.
Marion in maybe the last desperate act. Tried to kick his mistress. She clipped her on the head as she was washing down her legs. He brayed and whiney angrily. How dare Marion do that. No punishment was too good for Marion now. He stained at his leads wanting to come to her defense but was shocked. That only made him madder.
Mistress’s head was bleeding and left in hurry. The smug look on Marion’s face was everything he needed to know.
The next day. No routine. She was at the toilet while he was at the bed. Then her leads tighten. Chains hosting her up off the ground. She was literally hanging in the air. Her hooves did not touch the ground. Her hobble chain dangling. Then the wheel slowly moved. Marion was stopped right at the steeplechase pipe. Then his mistress came out. A bandage was around her head. She seized her hobble chain and with a zip tie. Secured it to the pipe. Then tapping on the phone. She stretched Marion out like on a rack. Mistress left and came back with a whip.
“Marion. You have been a bad pony. Very bad. So maybe a good old fashioned whipping will teach you to behave.”
The whip snapped and John jumped. Marion cried out. She got zapped. He let out a gleeful whinny. Ten stokes of the lash. Ten gleeful laughs. Ten shocks. John enjoyed every moment of it. No skin was broken but every lick of the whip was seen. Almost even across her back and sides. She cut the zip tie and lowered Marion to the ground she hung in her leads like a broken puppet.
“Now John. You where very brave. A very loyal pony. You tried to come to my rescue. I have an idea. Tomorrow you will be rewarded. Today we will take a day off. But no bed for Marion.”
She tapped the phone. The wheel began a slow walking pace. Stopping at water and food station. But the water and food did not work for Marion. She was being put to bed with out supper.
The alarm sounded and John was ready to go. Marion got off the toilet and shaky on her hooves. Her face was red from all the crying. John waited. Proudly. The routine stated with he referred to as the breakfast run. This time Marion did get watered and fed. After just four cycles of the walking circuit the wheel stopped. Mistress came in.
“Marion. Are you going to be a good pony?”
Marion nodded yes.
“You are not going to give me any trouble are you?”
More nodding of the head. No this time.
“Let’s test that.”
Snapping leads onto Marion bit, she then unlocked the leads from the wheel. Then led her around like a real pony. Marion’s eyes were down cast. Head hanging low. The whipping had done its work. She was broken. Hardly a tug on the reigns at all and Marion clip clopped where ever Mistress pulled her too. Then out through the door.
Curious. He tried to see but could not. He did hear some splashing of water but that was all. Then mistress came back with out Marion.
“John you be a very good stud. And what stud pony does not want to fulfill his duty. So today You get to teach Marion who is the boss stud.”
Clipping reign on his bit she then released him from his chain hoist. This was the closest thing to freedom he had ever been but did not make one inch of movement without mistress pulling him there, she lead him around he followed with only the lightest of tugs on the reigns.
Long ago he figured out she did something to his teeth, making the bit fit inside his mouth. Permanently. It was custom made and would not come out no matter hard he had tried. It reminded him of child braces.
She led him past the sliding door and saw Marion, Her hobble was gone but now her legs where spread apart by a metal bar shoulder width. The bar was secured to the floor by a short chain. Her body was bent over something looking like a hitching post. Her chastity belt was draped over the hitching post. Her head was in a wooden medieval stock. Keeping her bent over. She wiggled and struggled fearing what was to come.
He grunted with satisfaction.
He knew what his reward would be.
“Now Marion is going be a good little filly she is going to learn there is a pecking order. I am your mistress. Your master. John is your stud. Your stallion. And a stallion is to be obeyed. A stallion obeys his mistress and master faithfully and completely. John knows this. However Marion. You still have the will to defy me. I think John will teach you the proper of order of things. “
John strained at the bit. He could taste the blood in his mouth. She tied off his reign to a post in the room. He was grunting and scraping his hooves on the ground like bull ready to charge. Mistress pulled metal box out her pocket and opened it. She had a syringe and needle. Then showed it to Marion.
“This is going make John a super stud. Like the one I gave you a few minutes ago. You are becoming very horny. Nearly painful even. “
Having some wits about her. She whinny in a panic not daring to speak like a human. She struggled for all she was worth. Fore hooves still bound to her sides. Staining against her bindings trying to kick her rear hooves hoping to repel the enviable and unable to. Her bare rear end began to glisten with perspiration. John could smell her sweating. That smell of fear and estrogen.
“Now, now. It’s too late for that.”
Mistress injected him. He did not look where. He was so focused on his task. He did not even feel the chastity belt fall away.
“Oh my John. How have you grown. Now let’s do this slow. I want Marion to feel every part of you. “
And she did.
I felt myself being lost as a pony. An animal. I subjected every ounce of pain I could do onto her. My pain was my sword. It cut deep into Marion. With every thrust of my vengeful emotional blade. I vanquished my pain and part of myself. Down the rabbit hole with not wanting to stop or desire to. Marion learned who is her master. I learn who I was. Who I am. Each cut harmed her. Pushed her. Closer and closer to the edge of emotional bliss while knowing once you fall you can never come back. To her she was my mare. I am her stallion. I am a pony. What I was I am no more. I bow only to my mistress. May the gods tremble.
In open style bar in the Miami. A women with red hair with a necklace with a horseshoe on it waited with a bloody mary in front of her. The condensation slowly running down its side. She looked out over the ocean and wondered if she would have time for swimming. Idly looking at the menu. She had on a sun dress with red roses on it. She was waiting for her friend. She did not have to wait long.
Her friend was about her height and had on sky blue halter top and matching skirt. Same color of red hair. It looked like she planned on taking a dip in the ocean. As she came closer. She could see a necklace with a fluke of dolphin on it in sterling silver a small blue gem. She rose and gave her a hug.
“So it is done?” said Lady blue.
“Yes. He is devoted to me.” Answered Lady Red.
“And your sister.”
“She as well. She is broken and will do anything I say. She will sign the papers.”
“Good to hear. What are you going to do with him.”
“Stud farm. I will keep him and her until everything is ready. So how is yours.”
“Let me tell you…”
See part 2. Swim fin