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Storycodes: F+/f+; D/s; bond; gag; lycra; suits; mask; petgirls; ponysuit; captives; torment; leash; reluct/nc; X
The Farm 3: Revolution on the Farm
Her eyes were blue. That lovely bright blue that I just knew only came with red hair. And the fair sprinkling of freckles that were visible through the eye holes in her mask confirmed my suspicions.
There was something in lurking behind those eyes that was both reassuring and terrifying. Trapped just as I was in a terrible, inescapable bondage I could read both fear and a fearful arousal in those eyes. She was encased exactly as I was, and with the same lack of hope of escape until someone came to her aid.
There were two of them I recalled. This was the mother, and there was a daughter. Both were curvy, sexy and desirable. With curves top and bottom joined by trim little waists. Mother had matured into a gloriously sexy, fleshy figure that just cried out for attention while the daughter was thinner but possessed quite the most magnificent breasts I had ever seen. They stretched the fabric of her bondage to a remarkable degree that made even me horny.
Right now my neck aches. My back aches. Damn it all, everything aches. I want to straighten up, I watch to stretch. Oh Lord but I want to do all these things, but until things change I will never be allowed to do so.
My master gave my leash a jerk and I staggered forwards on my hands and knees. Quite literally. Sheathed in gleaming black lycra I am living my days down on all fours. My attempts to escape thwarted by the terrible, insidious material that keeps me It’s captive. My feet trapped tightly up beside my arse, no matter how much I manage to stretch the material the moment I relax it snaps back into shape and makes me it’s prisoner. In a prison the exact same size of my body.
My weight tipped on to my knees and hands my back and shoulders ache insistently. Padded ‘paws’ protect my palms and knees but nothing helps with the ache. I would complain, but a big soft ballgag has my mouth it’s prisoner and my words are reduced to mewlings of desperation, and I don’t think my master really wants to listen anyway. Not that he can see my face as it is hidden behind a bland black doggie mask that covers my features leaving only my eyes visible. Once a visitor to the farm, I seem to have joined many before me and become part of it’s livestock.
Another jerk on my leash sets me stumbling forwards again. This time he keeps up the tension on my collar and I find myself moving across the yard at a pace just too quick to be comfortable. Down here on all fours is a place the human shape just isn’t meant to be.
As for my master, well he does not care. In a terrible yet terrifyingly arousing reversal of convention the master at the far end of my leash has four canine legs of his own. Along with gleaming dark brown fur and sleek muscular flanks that ripple level with my head.
My leash is in his mouth and if I lag behind he gives it a sharp tug to make me move faster. To ensure I keep up with him. And away to my left I can see the mother of the duo being similarly dragged along by her canine master. The human slaves being led by the dogs.
The building in front of us is the stables. A place of torment, suffering and arousal for a whole range of other residents of the farm. Where leather straps, harnesses and bridles make prisoners of mighty men while they submit to the tiny lady known only as Her Ladyship and her two beautiful assistants.
The door bangs open as our doggie masters hit it with their wide shoulders and we are suddenly slithering over the rounded flags as we are drawn towards one of the stalls. Desperately try to keep my balance on the slippery stones I barely had time to take in the details before we were brought to a sharp halt by savage tugs on our leashes. Suddenly stationary I looked left to see the mother with her head down panting hard to get her breath. Then I had time to swing my head about and look at those that had arrived before us.
Already leashed to the wall was another gleaming black lycra quadruped that was watching me with hauntingly familiar bright blue eyes. Mighty breasts heaving beneath their skintight lycra prison confirmed what I already knew. This was the daughter. Her leash had been tied off to a ring on the wall, her neck pulled up high so she could not relax, the tension forcing her to keep upright, her back delightfully arched and every limb tense.
One of her ladyship’s assistants was standing in the entrance to the nearest stall. With sparkling green eyes and shoulder length auburn hair she was known as Victoria. She was built as every great dominant should be. She stood tall and gave off a tangible aura of power as she looked down at us all.
I hear muffled pleas from behind her, and as she saw me trying to look around her she smiled and took a step aside. Her tiny companion Arianna stood within, a beautiful young woman with waist length platinum blonde hair and a figure that made even me, a healthy heterosexual woman feel horny. Both of them were dressed for the stables. Skintight jodphurs, immaculate white shirts and gleaming knee high boots. Both were also wearing wicked smiles and I soon saw why.
Standing in the middle of the straw strewn stall was a tiny brindle pony. Or what at first sight was a tiny brindle pony. Once your brain kicked in it was something very different. It seemed to be shuffling about on the straw covered flags, but once you realised what you were looking at you realised it was someone struggling and writhing within their bondage.
Bent straight over at the waist Her Ladyship had fallen victim to her own assistants. Had a game gone too far, or had she been licked into oblivion by their talented lesbian tongues before being zipped into the tight, padded costume from which there was no possible escape.
Wrapped all around in tight padding her slender curves had been transformed into sculpted flanks and her hands trapped in legs and hooves that prevented her ever getting free without outside help. And sticking out from the neck of that deceptively accurate body was her very human head, And she had been crying.
“No, please, no” she pleaded “You can’t do this to me. This is my farm, you can’t do this to me”
But Arianna just smiled that sweet little smile of hers, lips dancing about under her cute button nose as she raised the head that matched the pony’s body and turned it’s open end to face Her Ladyship’s last vestige of visible humanity. And as it approached Her Ladyship started to cry again. She tried to kick out but all she managed was a lopsided shuffle in her costume, and by the time she had regained her balance the head was nearly upon her.
“No!” She let out a scream that was swiftly muffled as the stunningly realistic head was pressed over her head and moments later her inarticulate cries were reduced to a gurgling wail as what must have been a cunning internal bit was forced between her unwilling lips.
Deft hands swiftly fastened leather straps and the illusion was complete. When Her Ladyship shook her head in a vain attempt to free herself all I could see was a pony shaking it’s head. The steel on the bridle rattled and Arianna was smiling widely as she stepped alongside the pony and gave it’s reins a sharp tug. Somewhere within that terrible bondage Her Ladyship let out a yelp and pulled back as Arianna tried to lead her as you would any pony.
The whip slashed down and even through the thick padding that now clad Her Ladyship’s flanks it must have hurt as the ‘pony’ lurched forwards with a yelp. Unsteadily at first, her footfalls swiftly gaining stability as her Ladyship learned what it was like to be bent over walking on hands and feet rather than upright. Her every step rang out as genuine horseshoes at the end of each limb struck the flags as within a few feet she sounded for all the world like a genuine pony walking around it’s stall. And to anyone peering in through the window in the half light they would have seen the padded bondage pony suit and assume that was just what they were looking at. A brindle pony in it’s stall.
Without a word Arianna led the pony out across the flags and out into the daylight. Victoria silently took up our leashes and followed her, with the nameless daughter in our wake being dragged along by her own canine master while two other dogs capered about her. And as we all emerged into the sunshine I looked about and wondered at the scene we offered to anyone who might see us.
Two beautiful women, one tall and Amazonian, the other tiny and blonde, leading the most bizarre menagerie you could ever imagine. The blonde leading an unsteady pony by it’s reins urged on by strokes of her whip. The tall amazon with close behind leading a pair of gleaming human lycra dogs by their leashes, and bringing up the rear a third lycra doggie being dragged unwillingly along by a leash in the mouth of a dog standing taller than her while two other large dogs capered about her. Alternately sniffing at and nudging her with their big friendly muzzles.
We were walking towards another building I had not yet been inside. Outside was the insidious steel bondage rack that held anyone unlucky enough to become it’s prisoner down on all fours with their arse tempting thrust upwards for anyone or anything to take advantage of. Sprung loaded steel manacles made it possible to be trapped without the aid of anyone else, and the smooth steel made it quite impossible to escape from.
As we were led past I heard the whimpering and the dull snapping of steel from behind us. I risked a sharp jerk on my leash as I turned my head to look to my rear.
The daughter had been led over the wicked steel of the rack by her canine master and now steel manacles had sprung closed about her ankles and one wrist. As I watched her doggie master dropped her leash and jabbed at her last remaining limb with his paw and it snapped closed with a sound both quiet yet deafeningly loud in the silence of the courtyard.
As she tugged desperately at her trapped limbs her head swished back and forth as she realised how exposed she suddenly was and how little control over her fate she suddenly had.
A sharp tug of my leash brought my head back round and before I knew the daughter was lost from my sight as I was dragged away into the darkness of the new building. And with Her Ladyship now a prisoner who knew how long we would be trapped here. And as the door closed behind I could hear squeals from the daughter as whatever fate befell her out in the sunshine.
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story continues in The Farm 4: Livestock