Human Interest

Part Three Chapter 5: Payback’s Not Always a Bitch

“Don’t you just love these long-lasting, rechargeable batteries,” said Lilith as she picked up the remote and hit the off button, dangling the keys to the chastity belt on her index finger. “Come here, Irish. Mistress Ella said you needed to use the bathroom and she is busy getting your dinner. Please jump in the shower for a minute while you are in there to get grit and sweat off. You can take a proper shower and wash your hair later. She said to tell you that you have to clean your chastity belt tonight too, first with that antiseptic solution and then with water then use this adapter to recharge it overnight. Now hurry.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” was all Irish could manage and dashed for the bathroom the second the belt came off. Ten minutes later a more relieved and composed Irish Rose emerged.

“It’s time for the treat I promised earlier but we have to go down the hall. I’ll have you back in time for dinner,” she said as she clipped a leash to Irish’s collar and then unlocked her chain. “Come along dear, you won’t need your bikini but don’t forget to wash that tonight too.”

Irish never even gave it a second thought and walked naked out into the corridor following closely behind Lilith. They only had to go past four stalls before turning right into a brightly lit room with a massage table and a diathermy tub.

“Into the tub you go ponygirl. Mistress Ella insists that all of her first timers use the tub to relax their calf muscles after being in pony boots all day. We don’t want you cramping up tomorrow and ruining your weekend.” Having finished with explanations, Lilith hit the button and the diathermy jets sprang to life.

Irish was drifting away to a different place when she was startled by Lilith’s commanding voice. “Okay, time to get out. Any more than fifteen minutes at those temperatures and it could elevate your blood pressure. Here dry off with this. Here comes your treat,” she said as Jillian walked through the door.

“Hi Jill, this is Irish Rose, Mistress Ella’s trainee.” Jillian nodded and Irish Rose did another splendid pony bow/curtsey.

“Very well done ponygirl, you may rise. Mistress Ella is bringing you along nicely,” commented Jillian. “Up on the table.”

“Thirty minutes then, Jill. I have to have her back before her dinner comes. I’m going to take a quick dip in the pool while you work your magic.”

Magic it was. Even the Lindsay side had never had such a massage as this. It was almost as good as the orgasms from the belt she thought… well, maybe not quite that good but it was good and the thirty minutes went by in a flash.

“Thanks Jill,” said Lilith drying her hair as she stood at the end of the table, “Time to go back, Irish.”

Irish opened her mouth to thank Jillian also but Lilith chimed in, “I haven’t given you permission speak so don’t blow it now, ponygirl. I wouldn’t want to have to spank that bottom of yours again. I’ll thank Jillian more properly later for both of us. Now let’s go.”

Jillian and Lilith exchanged a quick kiss and Jillian muttered, “Later,” as they went out the door almost bumping into her next client. For a fleeting moment, Irish almost wanted to wiggle her tits at the couple coming in as if to say “Check out these puppies,” but she didn’t. “What is coming over me,” she wondered as they walked, “Lindsay would never think to do something like that.”

Mistress Lilith hooked the chain back on Irish’s collar and told her that she had just talked to Mistress Ella and dinner would be there in less than five minutes. Before Lilith could turn away, impulse overcame Irish and she wrapped her arms around Lilith and planted a big smooch right on her lips. It was only a few seconds and the debate still rages to this day as to whether there was any tongue involved but neither one are telling. Lilith blushed slightly, stepped back quickly then smiled as Irish feigned the best whinny she could muster without her bit in. “You’re welcome,” said Lilith and she left.

………………

A few minutes later the stable was bustling with activity again as the dinner carts were wheeled in. Plates clattered. Silverware tinkled. Corks popped. Bells jingled. It was pure cacophony. Adding to all the commotion was the chatter as most of the ponies were given permission to speak during dinner. Some even left their dinners to cool and went straight to love making. Irish could not believe the openness of it all. It was then her stall opened and in came Mistress Ella followed by Christine.

“It’s truly amazing,” said Christine.

“What’s that,” asked Irish?

“You’ve had that birthday suit for 22 years and it still fits,” joked Christine making Irish aware of her nakedness for the first time in several minutes. It all seemed so natural now that she didn’t even try to cover herself with her hands.

Ella chuckled and set the table. “Don’t expect this every night, Irish. A little champagne to toast our record. Fresh garden salad with your choice of dressing, Chicken Cordon Bleu with garlic mashed potatoes, fresh brazed asparagus with Hollandaise sauce, a petite slice of the chef’s award-winning cheesecake and a cup of Jamaican Green Mountain coffee to top it off. Bon Appétit.”

Pop went the cork and clink went the glasses as the three of them chatted freely while Irish ate her dinner. Christine and Mistress Ella sat on the edge of Irish’s bed and as she was finishing her last bite of cheesecake, she picked up her coffee and turned her chair to face them.

“Today I heard a lot of new things but one thing in particular has been puzzling me,” said Irish. “What are ‘consignment ponies’, I believe that’s the term you used earlier.”

“Ah-h-h, that is what pays most of the bills around here,” began Ella. “The women’s prisons in California, Nevada and Arizona are overflowing with women serving life sentences for repeated, non-violent crimes… petty theft… habitual drug users… prostitutes. It is costing the states a small fortune to keep them incarcerated and so Master Tom developed this consignment plan. These women are offered the opportunity to be trained and auctioned off as ponygirls to the highest bidder. Many of them jump at this chance of quasi-freedom rather than waste away in jail until they die. They are told right up front that they could be shipped overseas to work the fields or be someone’s sex toy and yet the program has kept this place busy with these volunteers for the last six years. The state pays us $20,000 for each one we take as it costs them $80,000 per year to keep them locked up. In addition, the ranch keeps 20% of the bid price and the rest goes to a foundation Master Tom has set up to help the families of these women thus solving another problem, the swelling welfare rolls. Many women jump at the program including some non-lifers, as a way to make up for letting their families down. Five or ten years as a ponygirl seems better to them than sitting in a cell and their families get some benefit. It’s a good deal. There will be a new bus load of trainees arriving on Monday morning from the women’s correctional facility in Chowchilla.”

”Wow, that’s amazing!” exclaimed Irish. “It’s absolutely brilliant. The state saves money. The families benefit. The women, like you say, get a semblance of freedom. We need to report on that.”

“Oh no, you mustn’t. Right now with the financial shape California is in, if the legislature got wind of this, the bureaucrats would try to take over the whole program, steal all the money and no one would benefit. Let’s just keep this between the Justice Department and the ranch,” concluded Ella.

“Besides,” offered Christine, “We have a daring enough story to catch the top brasses attention this time around. We made need a follow-up some day to show them that we aren’t a couple of ‘one-trick ponies’.”

They all had a good laugh at Christine’s pun and then the dinner bell rang.

“Wow is it 8 o’clock already. We have to go Irish. You’ll have time to clean your tack and get ready for bed before the lights go off at 11. You’ll have to coordinate with the others in your quad as to the order of use of the bathroom but there is plenty of hot water so don’t worry if you end up last. It is never completely dark in here so there is a sleep mask under your pillow if you need one. There also may be conjugal activities going on so here is a packet of ear plugs. Come on, Christine, grab the empty champagne bottle and I’ll get the tray. Let’s go eat. Remember Irish; be in the ‘parade rest” position when I come in tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Pampered Pony, what an appropriate name for this place,” thought Irish as she began to polish her pony boots. She finished her chores by 10:15 and was sound asleep long before the lights went out.

………………

Dreams are another thing all together and Irish had a doozy. In the end she saw herself chained in a line of naked, consignment ponygirls waiting to be auctioned off. Just as the girl in front of her was sold off, she heard the toilet flush and awoke. The stables were still in semi-darkness and it’s a good thing as Irish couldn’t resist touching herself. She moaned softly at her own touch and was surprised at how wet she was already. “That must have been some dream,” she thought, “I wish I could remember more of the details. I’m going to need another shower after this.” With that she bit down on her pillow and began fingering herself in earnest. “Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors,” she muttered to herself.

After her private interlude and shower, Irish took her time brushing her hair and putting on her make-up. When she exited the bathroom, she stepped up on her chair and peered over the wall of her stall at the light just beginning to spread out across the stable floor from under the door. She could hear the clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen and figured the chef and his crew must be getting breakfast ready for the guests in the lodge. “I may was well start getting ready,” she thought as she started climbing down off the chair. She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice behind her ask, “Did you see a mouse?”

There stood Mistress Cyndi with two cups of coffee in her hands and a gym bag over her shoulder smirking over having startled Irish so badly. “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee so I just put one sugar and one spoon of creamer. I hope that is okay. I know from yesterday that you like to run in the morning like I do so I got your running shoes and sweats from your room. Christine and Ella are both sound sleepers so they never knew I was there…… oh, I hope I didn’t say too much.”

Irish just stared. It wasn’t that she had said too much, it was just how fast she said it that surprised her. Irish wondered if perhaps she had had a few cups of coffee already this morning or if she had been an auctioneer in a past life. She started to answer and then stopped.

“Irish, I am not your trainer, so you have permission to speak with me any time you want. When Mistress Ella is around I expect you to observe all propriety but between us privately, it’s cool.”

“Yes, I’d love to go for a run with you. Let me put my stuff on. Thanks for thinking of me and bringing me a coffee. How much time do we have?”

“We’ve got about 30 minutes before the breakfast bell rings and I have to go back to the lodge. I thought we could run down to the ‘consignment pony’ stable at the other end of the canyon. Christine said you were very interested in the program so maybe I can tell you more about it. Here dear, let me unlock your collar so you can pull your sweatshirt on. It’s only 40oF out right now.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Grab your coffee and let’s go. There are several trash cans behind the grandstands where we can get rid of these cups and start our run from there.”

“So-o-o-o Christine and Ella slept together last night. I guess she wanted to get more than just a story out of this weekend. H-m-m-m-m, Christine and Ella… Jillian and Mistress Lilith… I wonder who else is having fun around here.”

“Now Irish, I don’t know how you figured out about Jillian and Lilith but that is not for publication.”

“But Mistress Cyndi, ‘Enquiring minds want to know’,” she giggled and headed out the door.

………………

At first it seemed a lot colder than 40oF but five minutes into the run they had both warmed up and were running at an even pace with each other. Irish was the first to speak and her words were almost visible as her humid breath condensed in the cool air of the morning. “Aren’t you worried about snakes, like Mistress Ella?”

“There’s nothing to worry about at this temperature, Irish. The snakes and Gila monsters don’t come out from their dens until it’s at least 65oF out. That’s one of the reasons I like running in the morning. There’s the consignment stable up ahead. Let’s go inside.”

Passing through the doorway, Cyndi hit the light switch on the right and Irish had to cover her eyes for a moment. They had been running in the shadow of the canyon wall and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust. It seemed chilly in this stable and she commented on it to Cyndi.

“Yes, it is chilly in here right now. We don’t run the heat in here when there aren’t any trainees. We only keep it warm enough to keep the pipes from freezing.”

Irish was taking it all in as they walked. “Where is all of the tack?”

“It’s all hanging right in the stalls.”

“But…”

“Yes, I know it doesn’t look the same as yours but let me show you,” said Cyndi grabbing a handful of straps off a hook. “This is the bridle and bit that these trainees use. There are no feathers or fancy voice converters. These are just used to relay commands through tugs on the reins and keep conversations to a minimum”. Hanging the bridle back on its hook, Cyndi grabbed another tangle of straps. “Put your arms out to the sides and I’ll show you how the body harnesses are different.”

Irish held her arms out as Cyndi flipped a string of straps and rings over her head and began buckling them down over her running suit. The shoulder straps ended in the first ring in front and another pair of straps was buckled around her body above her breasts. Dropping down from there was another ring with straps that went just below her breasts and around to the back and then one more strap dropping to a ring at waist level with another set of straps which Cyndi buckled behind. Finally, from the waist ring a single long strap hung down which Cyndi pulled up between Irish’s legs and gave a tug before buckling it.

“That last strap is tightened to the degree that the trainee is being compliant or stubborn, if you catch my drift. This big, stiff pad you feel resting on your hips and up your back is where carts, wagons or even plows are attached. Fold your arms behind your back, Irish, and grab opposite elbows with your palms.”

No sooner had Irish complied than Cyndi slipped a leather arm binder bag over them and pulled the straps over her shoulders, criss-crossed them and buckled them in the back. Coming back in front of Irish, she began again. “Most of these trainees have been abused in some way or other and even though their crimes weren’t violent, many of them will lash out at others if provoked. There is no way of predicting what might trigger their anger so all of them have their arms bound when they are not in their stalls to protect them from each other and themselves. That is why everything has to be attached to the pad in the back of the harness as they can’t use their hands to hold anything. They all understand and have consented to this type of restraint. It is very comfortable and it really doesn’t interfere with their learning the postures, poses and gaits they will need to please their owners. It also makes it easier for their trainers to handle them…… like you, for example.”

No sooner had the words escaped her lips than she grabbed the Irish’s crotch strap and pulled her to herself, planting a big, long, wet kiss on her lips. Irish was only momentarily startled then eagerly returned the passion, tongue and all. Cyndi gently pushed her back and said, “Mistress Lilith said you were a good kisser and I just had to find out for myself. She was right. Now let’s get you out of this stuff and finish our run.”

Cyndi flipped off the lights as they exited and pulled the stable door closed. The temperature outside had already risen 10o as they resumed their run and Cyndi knew it would be another hot one. As they jogged back, Cyndi pointed out a long building on the other side of the corrals in which all of the sulkies and chariots were kept. “It also has a workshop on the second floor where custom leather and metal goods are made and stored when not in use”.

Arriving back in her stall, Irish quickly stripped off her sweats and running shoes and stuffed them in her bag. Cyndi reconnected her chain and picked up the bag. “I’ll put this back in your room. We wouldn’t want Mistress Ella wondering what we have been up to,” she whispered as she turned to leave.

“Mistress Cyndi, before you go, may I ask one more question?”

“Of course, dear, what is it?”

“I have kind of worried about being chained in here at night. What if there was a fire?”

“Oh, I am sorry; sometimes our trainers get distracted and don’t explain everything they should. That’s a very valid question but nothing you should feel nervous about. The plate holding your chain and the chain for the pony in the stall behind you is held in place by a powerful electromagnet like the ones used on security card door locks. The hasp on your stall door is also held by an electromagnet. In any emergency, the power to these magnets is shut off so you can get out quickly. Just pick up your chain and head for the closest exit.”

“Thank you, Mistress Cyndi. It appears you have thought of everything for our safety here.”

“We have tried to anticipate as much as possible but you can never be too prepared. By the way, in case you weren’t told, there is a first aid station in the west wing of the lodge and both Mistress Lilith and I are registered nurses. Christine has already taken some video in there for your story. See you later, dear.”

Irish breathed a sigh of relief that the light was green and ducked quickly in to the bathroom. A couple minutes later she came out to be greeted by the sounds of yawns, footsteps and jingling bells as others were waking up. In the distance, the breakfast bell was being rung. “Time to get ready,” she muttered to herself.

20.01.11

story continues in Human Interest

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