Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

Movie Extras

by Beast5

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© Copyright 2015 - Beast5 - Used by permission

Storycodes: M+/f+; studio; rehearsal; spandex; catsuit; armbinder; boots; bond; straps; headgear; gag; ponyplay; chariot; bdsm; crop; breast; stuck; tricked; public; hum; massage; climax; cons/reluct; X

Movie Extras Wanted: Women 24-26 yrs old, 5' 6", slender, D-cup, black hair, green eyes.

By mid-morning Annie's inbox already had ten copies of the casting call, forwarded from various friends and family members who all knew about her dreams of getting 'discovered.' They couldn't believe how perfectly Annie fit the description. Annie herself had seen the ad as soon as she woke up. She considered herself an amateur extra by that point, and she always checked for new postings first thing in the morning.

By noon, Annie was ready to put up an auto-reply that said: "Yes! I've seen the damn ad already!" By three in the afternoon, she could have changed that auto-reply to: "Thanks! They already chose me!" It was incredibly fast, but movie directors often worked that way. All they really needed to see was a picture, and apparently the ones Annie sent had fit the bill.

Annie worked full time as an accountant at a local bank and made good money there. She didn't need the fifteen dollars an hour that movie extras usually got paid. Getting onto the big screen, however, was her passion. She took every opportunity that came her way, as long as it didn't involve nudity. She would love to get lucky and somehow make it big, but not if it meant becoming a slut to get there.

Annie was fortunate to be on great terms with her boss at the bank. He was an older guy, probably had a big crush on her, and was willing to shift her schedule around when casting opportunities came up. That let her take all day Friday off so she could fill whatever roll this movie needed with a young, thin, dark-haired, well-endowed woman.

Five other women matching the exact description showed up in the waiting room on Friday morning. Annie worried that they might chose only one from the group, but was soon reassured by an assistant director who gave them a very brief welcome then quickly ushered them all into a changing room. A costume manager handed out six identical red spandex catsuits and told the women to first take off all their clothing, including bras, panties and all jewelry. They couldn't have any lines showing under the skin-tight suits.

Annie found that the costume manager wasn't kidding about the suits being skin-tight. She had to use baby powder to squeeze her arms and legs through the stretchy fabric, and she had to pull hard to get the suit over her shoulders. She would have asked for a larger size, except that the other women were all the same height and were also struggling to get into their outfits. The assistant director knew exactly how tall they all were, so it was clear that he wanted their costumes to be tight.

The suited girls helped each other with the zippers that ran up their backs. With her zipper done, Annie ran her hands over her shiny red body. The suit hugged her every curve, from her ankles, up her long legs, over every curve of her hips, ass and chest, and out along her toned arms to her wrists. The suit seemed especially tight in her crotch, where Annie couldn't keep the fabric from being pulled tightly into the crack of her ass.

The only place where the suit did not feel especially constrictive was around her boobs, where the fabric seemed to be somewhat looser. Annie's breasts were still faithfully outlined, down to the small bumps of her nipples, but they weren't held tightly in place. When she moved, the suit allowed her D-cups to bounce and sway as if she wasn't wearing anything at all.

The costume manager told the women to put their hair into ponytails high up on the backs of their heads and pull on the hoods that were attached to the back of their suits. Annie found the small hole that the manager had pointed out and pulled her hair through it. The hood then covered the rest of her hair, coming partway down her forehead and completely covering her ears. At the manager's direction, the front of the hood even stretched up over her mouth, so that the only part of her head left visible was an oval-shaped opening around her eyes and nose.

Annie felt exceedingly strange, though was somewhat comforted by the fact that there were five other women in the room with her who were wearing the exact same hoods. She looked around at them and had to smirk. Though they all had similar bodies, the six of them hadn't looked all that similar in their street clothes. By the time the hoods were all in place, however, they could have been sextuplets.

The costume manager took out six pairs of boots and distributed them based on the sizes the women had listed on their application forms. Annie found that her pair fit well, though she would certainly not say they were comfortable. Six-inch spiky heals left her standing on near-tip-toes. The black leather of the boots extended up to just below her knees, and when zipped closed they hugged her calves even tighter than the spandex suit. Annie hoped the acting role wouldn't involve a lot of walking.

The red clad ladies were herded out of the dressing room and into a large staging warehouse. They found themselves holding on to walls or each other for support while they took their first few steps in the extreme, high-heeled boots.

The handful of people milling around in the warehouse turned to watch the stumbling hotties as they came out of their dressing room. Annie had hoped that their costumes would involve another item or two that would make her feel a little less exposed. She had always insisted on "No nudity" when signing contracts for these gigs. Her suit did, of course, completely cover nearly all of her body, so she couldn't really complain. She fought the urge to cover her chest with her arm, or try one more time to futilely pull at her wedgie. 

The assistant director rejoined them and bellowed, "My god, girls, you look fantastic! Wow, really, even better than I'd hoped. Bravo!"

Annie didn't like it when people, especially older men, called women of her age "girls." It felt sexist and patronizing, a feeling that was heightened given her state of dress. However, the beginning of an acting gig was not the time to start an argument with a director, so Annie kept her spandex covered mouth shut.

The assistant director finally introduced himself and gave them their first hint of what the acting job would entail. "My name," he said, "is Randy, and I will be in charge of you for the day. The movie we're working on involves a group of psychologists trying to determine what makes our main character tick. The psychologists have developed a way to peer inside people's heads, so they are able to catch glimpses of the main character's rather bizarre and disturbing thoughts and fantasies. The director wants to splash a bunch of these fantasies across the screen as those psychologists do their work. So, today we're hoping to get one, maybe two, twenty second clips of one of the fantasies: a six-person ponygirl team pulling the disturbed individual on a chariot."

The assistant director, Randy, continued talking a bit more about the movie, but Annie's thoughts had drifted. She didn't know exactly what a ponygirl was, but she was vaguely aware that it was some kind of sexual fetish. This really wasn't the kind of role she wanted to be playing, and on top of that it sounded like the most screen-time she would get would be some very short clips with her face largely covered. She thought about backing out, but knew that extras who backed out after starting gigs ended up on a sort of blacklist that might dash her acting aspirations for good. She decided to just grin and bear it.

A group of assistants joined them to help complete the costumes. They each brought a good-sized duffel bag and each paired off with one of the waiting women. Annie was a little relieved that her assistant turned out to be a nice-looking woman who was probably in her forties. It was bad enough to have the opposite sex see her like this, she certainly didn't want some man helping with whatever else was needed to complete her outfit.

Annie was surprised that the first item out of the assistant's bag was a mouth guard. When asked, the assistant said, "Oh, it's just a precaution because of the headgear you're going to be wearing."

Annie was still quite curious, but the assistant was clearly in a rush, and Annie could see her fellow actresses pulling back the spandex hoods from their mouths and inserting the guards, so she decided to go ahead and do the same. She hadn't worn one of these things since a high school lacrosse gym class, and had forgotten how uncomfortable they were. It was bigger than she remembered and seemed to fill her mouth. It also had some kind of extended ridge that stuck into her mouth and pushed down on her tongue.

"Are you sure this is necessary?" Annie tried to ask, though her words were fairly garbled coming through the mouth guard.

"What? Oh, yes," replied the assistant. "We take safety very seriously. You won't be able to participate in this scene without it."

Annie was starting to think that wouldn't be a bad thing, but decided to drop it. It was good to know that these folks were big on safety, at any rate.

The assistant asked Annie to get on her knees so she could reach her head easier for the next piece of gear. Annie probably wasn't actually any taller than the assistant, but the six-inch heels on her boots made it seem like she towered over the other woman. The contraption that the assistant pulled out of the duffel looked rather intimidating, appearing to be some kind of web of metal plates and straps.

The assistant worked quickly, and before Annie knew it, the thing was arranged over her head and was getting buckled on. A wide metal plate went over her spandex covered mouth. The plate was curved just right so that it wrapped around her mouth and cheeks, and was tightened by the assistant at the back of her head. A narrower metal plate went around her forehead and was also tightened down. Metal straps connected the mouth and forehead plates, and fastened together both at the top of Annie's head and underneath her chin.

Annie continued to kneel as the assistant tightened and re-tightened every strap. Once done, Annie's head was squeezed in a comfortable but firm embrace. Somewhat alarmingly, Annie found that her mouth was held tightly shut. She tried to force it open, but couldn't separate her jaws even a fraction of an inch. It was now clear why the mouth guard was necessary, but it was even more annoying with her teeth pressed tightly into it. The rubbery plastic seemed to fill her entire mouth. The extended ridge was held firmly at a lower angle and had completely trapped Annie's tongue beneath it.

Annie really wanted to at least tell her assistant about her tongue. She tried to formulate a complaint, but without the use of her tongue, jaws or lips, she couldn't make a single intelligible sound. She couldn't even make much of any noise through the mouth guard, spandex, and metal plate.

The assistance laughed good naturedly, and said, "Oh, silly, I can't understand a single thing you're trying to say. But don't worry, you don't have a speaking role in this movie." She laughed again at the little joke she had made, though Annie didn't find it terribly amusing.

When the assistant turned to reach back into the duffel bag, Annie reached up to her head brace to try to loosen the plate around her mouth. It wasn't obvious how to unfasten any of the plates or straps, and Annie hadn't made any progress by the time the assistant turned back to her and said, "Hey, now, don't do that. You saw how long it took me to get everything right. They're going to give me a really hard time if I don't get you geared up on schedule. Now give me those fussy hands of yours, I need them both behind your back for the next item."

Annie felt the assistant guide her hands and arms through some kind of leather tube. Both of her hands ended up in a single small leather pouch at the bottom of the tube. She could only fit her hands in by weaving her fingers together and holding them in one tight fist. She felt a strap tighten around her wrists, trapping her hands in the pouch. A little late, she realized that she had just had her hands bound behind her back. She pulled at the strap and got worried when it didn't give even a little bit.

"Hold still please," the assistant told Annie. "I'm not done with your armbinder just yet."

Armbinder? Annie thought. Jeez, what have I gotten myself into? What exactly is an armbinder? 

Annie wished she had knelt down facing the other actresses. They were probably getting the same gear, so she could have at least seen what was coming. She learned quickly enough that the armbinder was some kind of leather sleeve that her assistant was gradually cinching tighter. Straps had gone over her shoulders to keep the sleeve from slipping down, then her forearms and elbows were slowly brought closer together.

Annie was quite flexible, but her shoulders and arms started to hurt while the armbinder was still being tightened. She tried to let her discomfort be known by twisting and grunting, but her assistant just said, "Oh hush, we're almost done. And really, you are going to get me in trouble, please just hold still."

Annie didn't like this gear, but she did like the assistant. The gear wasn't this assistant's choice either, and Annie really didn't want to get her in trouble. She knew that any job on a movie set was competitive, and would feel terrible if the assistant got canned due to her own petulance.

The armbinder kept getting tighter until Annie felt her elbows touch inside the leather sheath. The position was more than a little painful at that point, but Annie also felt some pride at being so flexible. That feeling was encouraged by the assistant, who said, "Nice work! You look great!"

The assistant then came around to Annie's front, looked her body up and down and said, "Yeah, wow, you really do look great. Golly, I wish I had a body like yours!"

Annie looked down at her own body and noticed that the position of her arms caused her boobs to thrust outward against the fabric of her suit. She also noticed that her nipples were standing out even more prominently than they were before. To Annie, it was rather obscene, and embarrassing that the assistant had seen the same thing and praised her for it.

When the assistant turned back to her duffel, Annie thought again about trying to loosen the plate over her mouth, before realizing that with the armbinder in place she had absolutely no way of loosening those straps herself. She realized that she also had no way of taking off her boots by herself, or adjusting her suit by herself, or really of doing much of anything by herself. Her arms, hands, and fingers were completely trapped and completely useless. She herself was quite helpless, and she couldn't even speak to complain about it.

As this realization washed over Annie's consciousness, another feeling was washing over her body. She was shocked to identify the feeling as sexual excitement. Why on earth is that hitting me right now? she wondered. And how can I get it under control before someone notices? 

The assistant came back to Annie's front with an extremely tall looking, black-leather collar. Annie realized she had conflicting feelings upon seeing it. She knew she didn't want the dreadful, demeaning thing around her neck, but she couldn't deny the thrill of excitement that seemed to radiate out from her nether region as the assistant circled her throat with the stiff leather. The collar was so tall that Annie had to hold her chin up as the assistant closed it. Annie couldn't tell how it was fixed closed, but as far as she was concerned it might as well be padlocked shut. She would have no way to remove it with her hands trapped as they were.

The next item out of the duffel bag was a web of black leather plates and straps. As the assistant started wrapping the contraption around Annie's body, the trapped beauty thought that things really had gone too far and she really should be doing something about it. But there wasn't anything she could do, except maybe make a big scene, which would get her assistant in trouble and really embarrass herself. And anyway, they were just doing exactly what they said: gearing her up to be a ponygirl. She just hadn't realized how serious that would be.

There was also the insistent issue that was being raised by her pussy. Namely, this was all turning her on in a major way. She wished she could have some time to think, but her assistant just kept moving, never giving her a chance to mull over what was happening to her.

The web of leather straps and plates turned out to be some kind of corset that the assistant cinched tightly around Annie's waist. It became hard for the confused babe to take deep breaths, partly due to the constriction, and partly due to her increased excitement. Her excitement increased still further as she felt the assistant lift her breasts and tighten some part of the corset beneath them. When the assistant let go, her breasts were still held up high. Annie looked down as best she could, saw the ever-more obscene display of her chest, and understood the reason for the looser fabric of suit in that area. She shook her chest a little, and saw that her boobs could still sway back and forth a little even while they remained pushed upwards.

"Yeah, yeah," said the assistant, "you've got fantastic tits. Quit being a show off."

Annie was shocked that as the assistant said this, she grabbed both of Annie's boobs and gave her a big squeeze. It was clearly meant as a playful gesture, but it turned Annie's already stimulated nipples rock hard, and sent shivers of excitement through her body.

The assistant couldn't help but notice, and said, "Whoa, a little excitable, huh? Well, then, you're going to love this last piece."

The assistant reached down, grabbed a strap that was hanging from the front of Annie's corset, passed it through her legs, and attached it to the back of the corset. She then proceeded to tighten the strap until it was lodged deeply in her crack and pressed very firmly against her pussy.

Annie couldn't believe her own reaction to what logically should have been a fairly serious offense. The sensations shooting out from down below overwhelmed her. Even without orgasming, she couldn't remember ever feeling quite so turned on. The assistant chuckled as Annie moaned through her clenched teeth.

"I'm glad someone's enjoying this so much," the assistant said. "Now, just one more piece and we're all done."

The assistant affixed something to the top of Annie's headgear, then patted her on the cheek and said, "Okay, you can stand up and look around at your sister ponygirls now. Don't have too much fun during the filming!"

Just like that, the assistant was gone. Annie realized she didn't even know the woman's name or if they'd ever see each other again. The assistant had essentially introduced her to this... this bondage! She'd gotten Annie all excited, and then she'd disappeared, turning Annie over to... jeez, to whoever wanted to take charge of her!

Annie stood up on wobbly knees as her assistant left. She carefully turned around, worried that everyone would be staring at her and would know about the sexual experience she'd just gone through. Her breath caught when she saw the other ponygirls. They were astoundingly beautiful. They were all dressed in identical gear made up of dark black leather over the bright red spandex, topped off with the shiny metal of their headgear and a tall plume of red feathers sticking up from their heads. They stood tall in the high heeled boots, making their already trim legs look infinitely long and inviting. Natural hourglass figures were accentuated by the corsets, and every set of boobs was held up, large and proud, with nipples poking through the thin spandex. Their outfits all matched perfectly, down to the black-haired ponytails sticking out from each of their hoods and their green eyes looking around with curiosity and trepidation.

The actresses were making eye contact with each other, trying to figure out how they should feel about their intense costumes. The one thing that was clear was that none of them had been expecting anything quite like this. Some looked a little confused, some a little upset, and they all looked unsure of what to do.

The assistant director rejoined them and said, "Girls, you amaze me yet again! You were stunning before, now you are goddesses!"

As he admired them, he stroked a couple shoulders, adjusted a couple feather plumes, and tested the tightness of a couple corsets. Annie was relieved that he hadn't touched her, both because her rational mind didn't think it was appropriate for a man to be making any physical contact with women in outfits such as theirs, and because she couldn't be sure how her body would react. She might have really embarrassed herself.

"Okay, girls, time is money!" Randy boomed. "Let's get moving. Follow me this way."

The actresses looked at each other, but really had no reason not to follow along. Annie ended up towards the back and had to snicker to herself at the crazy procession they made. They were all still unsteady on their heeled boots, and now they couldn't use their arms for balance. Fortunately, they didn't have far to go before the assistant director started lining them up in two columns of three, in front of what looked to be a real-life chariot.

Somehow Annie hadn't thought that they were actually going to be pulling anything. She was forced to revise that expectation as Randy and another man began affixing the actresses' corsets to the long lead poles that extended forward from the chariot. There were a total of four lead poles, one on either side of each column of girls. Annie ended up in the back of the right column. Like the rest, both sides of her corset were firmly attached to the poles. The clips that held her in place looked fairly easy to operate, but without any use of her fingers she was as good as locked in place. She realized that she could no longer even turn around. Her locked-down corset held her body firmly facing forward and her tall posture collar prevented her from turning her head more than a few degrees.

The two men who had locked the women in place stood in front of them and nodded. "Okay ponies, listen up," the assistant director said. Annie decided that she liked being called a pony even less than being called a girl, but this time she didn't have any option to voice a complaint.

Randy continued, saying, "This is Paul. He is going to be your trainer. He will teach you how to operate as a ponygirl team. We hired him straight from a fetish club that actually does this kind of stuff on a regular basis, so he knows what he's doing and I want you to pay close attention to him. We need you to all look fluid and graceful, and be able to move in perfect unison, before we can film this scene. Remember that we've got a big name actor in the lead role of this movie, and his time is really valuable. When he gets here to ride you, there can't be any mistakes. Don't let me down!"

Annie's head was in chaos. Her helpless body had just been turned over to a man who apparently did this sort of thing on a regular basis as a sexual kink. She wanted to run, but she could no longer do that. She wanted to hide her body from his eyes, or at least cover her obscenely displayed bosom, but she couldn't do that either. She wanted to at least shield her arousal from this man, but that also turned out to be impossible.

Paul's first act was walk up to each of his trainees, grip their collars firmly in his hand, and stare directly into their eyes. Annie was in the back, so got to watch Paul do this to each of her peers before he did it to her. At first she thought it was incredibly silly – some pretend show of dominance that belonged in his fetish club but not on a movie set. As he got closer, however, her knees began to shake, and her pussy got wetter. He's going to know! She shouted at herself to cool down, but the fear of discovery only turned her on more. She had no idea where this sexual deviant inside of her had come from, and she had no idea how to handle it.

Paul stepped up to Annie and grabbed the front of her collar. Her knees gave out completely. If it weren't for the poles attached to her corset and the grip Paul had on her collar, she would have collapsed. She had never been this firmly controlled by a man before. She was completely helpless in his hand. He gazed into her eyes, and she knew instantly that he understood her completely. She didn't know how to handle herself at the moment, but he knew exactly how to handle her; and handling her was exactly what he would do.

The confident trainer picked up something from the chariot and walked back in front of his team. Annie saw that he had a very real-looking riding crop in his hand. She took notice for the first time of his dress. He wore what could only be described as riding breeches tucked into big cowboy boots. A show coat on top completed the look. He really was there as a rider. Annie and her fellows really were there as his ponies. It was insane!

"Ladies," Paul addressed them in a deep, rumbling voice, "you all have very lovely bodies. You seem to be in fine physical condition, your hair is shiny and well-brushed, the color in your cheeks is appropriate, and I can't complain about the size or shape of your udders. Your gear has also been done superbly, but of course I knew it would be because it was done by my own staff. However, none of these things add up to make a beautiful ponygirl. Skill is what defines a ponygirl.

"I told your director he was a fool for bringing in newbies for this scene, but he thought your physical attributes were more important than skill. He has hired me train you, but he's only giving me half a day. You should know that in my eyes, your unskilled selves are actually quite ugly, and I expect to fail in my task both because I do not have nearly enough time and because you may just not have what it takes. That said, I will work as hard as I can in the time we have, and I expect you to do the same."

Annie, along with the rest of the ponies, was captivated by her trainer's deep voice and commanding attitude. She was having trouble coming to terms with everything he had said, however. He started by describing their bodies as if they were meat, or, more appropriately, horses. He had even called their breasts "udders"! He had gone on to call them ugly and probably untrainable. The feminist in Annie was aghast and furious. The new beast inside of her wanted nothing but to prove him wrong, to show that she could be trained, and to work her heart out to win his approval.

On a more practical note, Paul had said that he had been given half a day to train them. Did that mean four full hours? Or six? Or more? Annie had taken the whole day off, and was never surprised when these gigs took an entire day. But she had never been trapped in high heeled boots with her elbows touching behind her back. Could she survive that long? Would she even have a choice?

Finally, Paul had said that the gear assistants were not part of the movie crew, they were part of his fetish club crew. That woman who had put on Annie's gear knew full well about the sexual pleasures of helplessness, and probably recognized the signs in Annie before Annie recognized them in herself.

The pony right in front of Annie must have been thinking about the length of time or the strictness of the gear. She began stomping her right foot and moaning insistently through her clenched teeth. Paul scowled, walked up to her, and roughly grabbed the front of her collar. As before, he stared into her eyes, but this time it was clearly meant to frighten. "Still your foot, wench," he commanded, "and be quiet. A pony stands perfectly still when she is being instructed, and she never, ever, makes vocalizations."

Paul stepped back to the front. The chastised actress was still and quiet. All of them were a little more nervous, even if Annie, at least, was also a little bit wetter. She knew then that she would have to get her head checked as soon as she got free. Until then, she didn't know what she was going to do.

Satisfied, Paul launched into his first lesson: marching in place. It sounded easier then it was. For one thing, the ponies were still learning to walk in the boots, while the trainer demanded that their knees be lifted until their upper legs were perfectly parallel to the floor. For another, the ponies had to be in perfect unison. Paul started off counting, "And right, and left, and right, and...," so that they would know exactly when to lift and place each foot.

As Paul counted, he circulated around his team, using his crop to show that a leg needed to be lifted a bit higher, or tapping the crop on a pony's stomach to help her keep time better. He also used the crop to gently push a pony's cheek if she had started looking left or right. He repeated numerous times that ponies could look out of the corners of their eyes, but they must always face straight ahead.

Paul wasn't causing any pain with his crop, but it was mortifying just to think that he was using it on them. Annie wanted to revolt when he got around to her. Unfortunately, she knew both that she didn't have any good options, and that her sub-self really wanted to learn. The trainer nodded approvingly as he watched her, then, out of view of the rest of the women, he reached around and patted her on the ass as he said, "Good job, pony, keep up the fine work."

Annie couldn't believe he had so casually touched her ass. She was mad, but she was also burning with desire. She wanted more touch, and she would work to get it.

Paul switched his team from following his count to following the tick of a metronome. He varied the pace to ensure they could march both fast and slow. The pony in the middle of the left row, kitty-corner from Annie, seemed to have trouble keeping the pace accurately when it got faster. Paul tried the stomach tapping trick, but it wasn't working and it looked like the woman was getting frustrated. He asked her, in an incredibly gentle voice, if she would allow him to swing his crop hard enough to cause a light sting, saying that the sensation might help her pick up the necessary muscle memory. To Annie's surprise, the actress nodded, "Yes."

Paul began delivering light slaps to the agreeable pony's rump, alternating cheeks in time with the metronome. Annie was mesmerized watching the crop fall onto the smooth, round, shiny-red ass cheeks that were divided by a tight crotch strap, just like her own. The crop made a satisfyingly loud SLAP sound every time it fell. It was impossible to know how much pain was actually felt through the spandex, but to Annie's untrained ear, it sounded like a serious walloping, and the thought of the pain made her even wetter.

The slaps did the trick in an impressively short time. Annie couldn't see the woman's face, but was sure that she was marching with a smile.

"Your attention ponies," Paul called after a length of time that was totally indeterminate for the subbed-out Annie. "I would normally keep you marching in place for much, much longer. However, the current time constraints dictate that we move on now to marching forward. This will require not only careful timing and good footwork, but also teamwork and an excellent sense of space. You are all connected to the cart via rigid poles. If you do not move perfectly together, then you will fail."

The first practice forward march was indeed a miserable failure. Some ponies slipped, some were off from the beat by just a hair, and others didn't quite step far enough or stepped too far. Every single one of those mistakes caused the cart to jerk and threw off the whole group of ponies. Paul let the group struggle their way from one side of the warehouse to the other without interfering, then stopped them, turned them around, and asked their permission to use a new training style.

"What I would like to do," Paul told his mute, attentive audience, "is to deliver punitive slaps to body parts that are out of alignment, and deliver strokes of pleasure to your breasts for a job well done. But I will only do this if I get approval for both training techniques from all six of you."

Paul started by asking the pony in the middle of the left row, who had already approved crop slaps. He held up his crop and asked if she agreed to the punishments. She nodded her head, and he swung the crop down with a sharp SLAP on the top of her left thigh. He then hovered his hands over her tits and asked if she approved the rewards. She hesitated for just a second, then nodded. He delivered what somehow appeared to be a respectful grope, while Annie watched the pony shiver with pleasure.

"Okay, one of you is in agreement," Paul confirmed. "I don't want to ask the rest of you in order, because that wouldn't be fair, so I'll jump around randomly."

Annie felt a bit of panic when Paul crossed over to her side of the columns and walked back to where she was standing. She knew she should say no to both techniques and end the crazy charade, but her body betrayed her. She found herself nodding yes to the punishments, and felt a fairly painful slap fall onto her thigh. It was definitely painful enough to motivate her. Then, with Paul's hands hovering over her already very hard nipples, she had no will power to refuse the rewards. She looked up at the trainer in helplessness, lust, and confusion as his hands sent fireworks of pleasure through her hyper-sensitive body. He briefly smiled back at her.

Paul went next to the pony in the front right. Annie figured that his order was not random at all, but rather based on which ponies he knew would be most agreeable. The latter ponies would then feel some peer pressure. Annie got a perverse pleasure out of knowing that she was right at the front of the pack in terms of agreeableness.

Paul got quick approval from the front-right pony, then the back-left and front-left. Annie decided she was definitely not the only woman getting off on the whole helplessness angle. She and the others might have been upset with the way they basically got tricked into their current situation. If they could have talked they almost surely would have quit. However, they couldn't talk and there didn't seem to be a way to quit. Instead, paradoxically, they found themselves voluntarily agreeing to up the ante.

The last pony Paul approached was the woman right in front of Annie, in the middle-right position, who had initially staged the little revolt and had to get a stern stare from the trainer. Paul stood close to her, held her defiant gaze with his own stern eyes, and asked if she, like the rest of her peers, would agree to get punished in order to speed their learning. Annie heard her let out a little whimper before making a very small nod. The punishment slap Paul delivered sounded slightly softer than the others he had given, though it was hard to be sure. The middle-right pony was faster in approving the rewards, and she shuddered just as much as the rest had when Paul brushed her proffered bosom.

Once all of his ponies were bought-in to the new system, Paul marched the team up and down the length of the warehouse twice at a very slow pace. He jogged from side to side, giving each trainee an equal share of his attention. His crop stung their hamstrings if their legs were weren't lifted high enough, or the backs of their knees if a step came too slow. Shins and calves were slapped if the placement was off, and the ass was smacked if the pony just needed some general motivation. The expert trainer seemed to sense every problem as it happened, and he knew just what to say and do to correct it. Most importantly, he gave each girl a pleasure stroke before moving on, to let them know he appreciated their effort, and so that they wouldn't just fear future correction.

The team was still making tons of mistakes after their second lap, but they had definitely shown improvement. Paul called for a break, which they all clearly needed. Benches were pushed behind the girls, allowing them to all sit down in unison without removing any of their gear or even unclipping them from the chariot. Paul also had a way to water them without removing their headgear. A small hole could be opened in the front of their mouth plates, which lined up with a small hole in their spandex hoods. A specially designed nozzle was pushed through the holes, which the ponies could drink from if they tilted their heads back and sucked in through their teeth.

Paul went from pony to pony, letting each suck in a few mouthfuls of water then giving her shoulders a quick rub. Watching the other women get rubbed reminded Annie of just how sore her shoulders were. They must have been working for over an hour by that point, and her arms had been locked in the strict armbinder the whole time. She couldn't wait to have Paul's strong-looking hands squeeze her shoulders, for more than one reason, and shivered in anticipation.

Annie was the last in line to be watered and rubbed, but before she had the chance the assistant director returned in a serious huff. The schedule for the lead actor had apparently been shifted, and they now had only one hour before they had to be ready for him. Paul told him flatly that it could not be done. Randy's voice rose higher as he screamed that it had to be done, and demanded to know how far they had gotten. Paul said he would demonstrate their good progress as soon as the break was over. That wasn't good enough for Randy, who demanded an immediate description.

Randy was furious when he heard that after an hour of training they had only just begun marching forwards, and had not even tried to do any turns or been made to pull the chariot with a rider in it, and yet they were there loafing around on a break. Randy fired Paul on the spot and told him to leave the premises immediately. Paul was reluctant to leave his trainees, but the studio's security team was instantly on-hand to escort him out.

Annie had a sick feeling growing in her stomach during the whole exchange. That feeling became straight dread when Randy turned to them and said, "Break's over, girls! It's time to get your lazy asses up so you can earn the money we're paying you! I'm taking over your training, and I'm kicking things up a notch. You're going to learn a whole lot more during this second hour of training with me than you did during your first hour with Paul. I watched as you all agreed to be punished and rewarded, so I don't know why that softy didn't press you harder. I mean, do all of you really want to suffer in that gear for twice as long as necessary just because middle-left here can't figure out how to stay on beat? Of course not! And all she needs is some punishment that's actually hard enough to get the right tempo through her thick skull. I'll deliver that, then we'll all be outta here sooner. You'll thank me later."

The assistant director grabbed the middle two lead poles and yanked the chariot forward. The ponies, with their arms in strict armbinders behind their backs, their feet in tall pointy boots, and their tight corsets locked to those lead poles, were in no position to resist. They were yanked off their benches and stumbled onto their feet. Randy then kicked the benches out of the way and jumped in the chariot behind them. Annie couldn't turn around to see him, but she could feel his weight transmitted from the lead poles to her corset, and she could imagine him standing there like some triumphant hero looking down at his six captive ponies

"All right," Randy yelled. "Forward march!"

The impatient assistant director hadn't started a metronome, he didn't tell them how fast to go, and he caught them all in different stages of unbalance. They weren't even sure exactly what he wanted them to do, and they definitely weren't sure they wanted to try to do it. Annie was especially distraught. She hadn't received any water during the break, and more importantly she had missed the chance to feel Paul's big hands on her helpless body. Now this asshole was ruining something she was actually starting to enjoy.

Annie and the other ponies had agreed to let Paul use his crop on them, but only after they were convinced that Paul was a reasonable person. Annie most definitely did not intend for her permission to carry over to the crazy asshole currently standing behind her, but it looked like that asshole was going to assume that permission was granted anyway. Can he do that? Annie wondered. The answer, when the targets in question are completely mute, tightly bound, and locked to a chariot, was yes.

While Annie and her partners tried to figure out what to do, Randy got more and more frustrated. "Did that idiot trainer not even teach you idiot girls how to get started?! When I say march, I mean right away, or you're going to feel the sting of my crop! Now march!"

Annie's feet automatically started to high step following the shouted command. Two of the other ponies took steps as well, but the other three did not. This threw all six of them off balance and into a sloppy forward stumble. 

"What the hell have you been doing for the last hour?" the AD screamed. "You don't know anything! You look like shit! Now listen, I didn't tell you this before because I didn't want you getting too excited, but the main character in this movie is none other than Arnold Schwarzenegger. That's right, the Governator is back into acting, and you girls are going to have the honor of sharing the screen with him. I will not let you embarrass me and this studio in front of a professional like Arnold, so I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure you are prepared."

Annie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Arnold Schwarzenegger was her least favorite actor in all of Hollywood. She had hated that chauvinist bastard even before it came out that he'd fathered a child with a member of his staff. He was always making sexist comments and putting down women, and there were tons of stories of sexual harassment floating around. Annie remembered one story about a crew member on the set of Terminator 2 who had her breasts grabbed and exposed by the big-name actor in front of a group of people, who apparently had just laughed as the crew member fled to a trailer.

Now that big-name asshole was going to be handed complete control of her body. If he decided to grab her own already-basically-exposed boobs, she wouldn't even have the option to flee. Heck, she wouldn't even be able to complain. He'd be able to fondle her boobs, ass, and anything else to his heart's content, and she would just have to stand there and take it. The thought horrified her and disgusted her and, to her great frustration, definitely turned her on.

Annie's thoughts were ripped back to the present by a searing pain across her right butt cheek. "Get going pony!" she heard Randy shout from behind her. It was much more painful than anything Paul had doled out. In fact, it hurt like crazy, and was followed immediately by an equally hard slap to her left butt cheek. Annie screamed her pain and frustration into her clenched teeth and tried to push forward harder. Of course that didn't help, but there was nothing else she could do.

Annie heard the AD slap the right and then left butt cheeks of the pony to her left, then saw the long crop he was holding reach around and do the same to the pony in the middle-left position. It was a little harder for him to get the middle ponies, but he still managed to deliver perfectly strong blows. When he punished the middle-right pony, however, she reacted very differently. She dug her heels in and did everything she could to stop the chariot all together. The assistant director rained blows down on her ass, but she refused to move.

Finally he got off the chariot, walked around to the stubborn pony, and grabbed her by both the collar and her crotch strap. It was a blatant display of power over the stubborn but helpless woman. Annie felt her own knees shaking, and thought she saw the woman in front of her tremble a bit.

"So you don't want to play ball," Randy said in a menacing voice. "Well, I don't have time to continue wasting punishment on you. Have you heard of collective punishment? Here's how it's going to work. I'm going to start punishing your friends, and I'm not going to stop until you agree to do your very best to be a good ponygirl. Understand?"

Annie's heart dropped. That was a horrid thing to do. Someone else was going to feel pain because of middle-right's stubbornness. She had to wonder how long it would take the girl to break.

Randy was shrewd. He slapped the three girls in middle-right's field of vision and watched her reaction closely. She seemed to react most to front-left, so he focused entirely on her. He unclipped her from the outside pole so he could turn her to face middle-right, then said, "I'm also not going to waste time spanking this one's ass, where her suit is thick and her skin isn't very sensitive. Instead I'm going to focus all my energy where these suits are thinnest."

He looked into front-left's eyes and asked, "Do you know where that is?"

In answer to his own rhetorical question, Randy scooped up one of her boobs and began rubbing the top of it with his crop. Annie could only watch from the back as poor front-left whimpered and looked desperately from Randy to mid-right and back to Randy.

Without warning, Randy landed five loud slaps on front-left's big tits. Annie couldn't stand it, and started stomping her feet to try to convince mid-right to give in. The other girls did the same and with that, stubborn mid-right's will cracked.

Randy looked mid-right in eyes while he still held front-left's tits and said, "Do you promise to give me one hundred and ten percent effort for the rest of the time you're here?

Mid-right nodded.

"And do you understand," Randy continued, "that at the first hint I get that you, or any of the rest of you, aren't giving me your full effort, then I'm coming right back to these big red knockers and picking up where I just left off?"

All six ponies nodded. Annie had to respect this guy's skill. With just five well placed slaps, he had convinced them all to do their best to do whatever he asked. She only hoped that was good enough. They still needed some good guidance; it would take more than just effort.

To his credit, when Randy got back in the chariot he started giving very specific instructions for what he wanted. He called out, "Give me a medium-paced march that begins with the right foot, on go. Ready... Go!"

The ponies all started out with their right feet and were able to reasonably keep pace with each other across the warehouse. It didn't look great, but they got there. Randy turned them around and had them do it again, and again, and again. Annie's ass was getting the brunt of the crop slaps. Being in the back-right, she was the easiest target for the right-handed asshole who was riding the chariot. He would deliver a crop slap for any perceived error – Annie's knees not getting high enough, or her feet not landing in the right place, or even her posture not being quite right, as if she had any control over her posture while wearing the tight corset and tall collar.

If the assistant director was feeling lazy, he would even call out, "I'm slapping back-right's ass because front-right's knees aren't getting high enough!" Front-right would hear the slap and the grunt of pain from Annie, and would make the correction. Annie ass was hurting like hell, though she didn't entirely mind taking some of the punishment for her fellow ponies. Really, they were all in it together, against the tyrant behind them.

What Annie minded far more about being in the back was the fact that it gave the assistant director an excellent view of her spandex-covered, crotch-strap-split ass. Even without being able to turn and see him, she just knew that his sleazy eyes were watching her rear-end jiggle with every step she took, and she knew with certainty that he was watching her rear shake every time he struck it with his crop. Worst yet for Annie was the fact that it was all still turning her on. Even though she had developed quite a hatred for the jerk whose eyes were constantly roaming her ass, the fact that she was helpless to hide that ass from his eyes made her horny. Her arousal was heightened further by the fact that he could, and did, spank that ass, and by the fact that there was nothing she could do to prevent that either.

The very worst part about this for Annie was the knowledge that at some point later that day, it was going to be Arnold Schwarzenegger riding in the chariot behind her. It would be his chauvinist eyes on her readily available butt cheeks, and his chauvinist hands slapping and grabbing her helpless body, and his chauvinist self that would be arousing her newly-discovered dark desires. This made Annie dread the end of their training even as she wished it could just end as soon as possible.

After a few laps, the constant threat of punishment did get the ponies to a level where they were able to march the length of the warehouse without a single trip. Annie knew that Paul's careful eye still would have seen numerous problems, but it was good enough for the assistant director.

He jumped off the chariot and said, "See? I said I could train you faster than that fetish club freak, and I have! Now, before we move on to learning your turns, I am going to borrow a page from Paul's playbook, though of course I'll make it better. You girls all gave us permission to give you sexual rewards, which I have to say is a pretty slutty thing for you all to have done. However, since you did, I'm going to go ahead and use your permission to reward you for a job well done."

Annie almost choked when she saw that Randy had a Hitachi wand vibrator in his hand. She had been fighting to conceal the arousal that she was still getting from the whole helpless situation. How the hell was she going to stand up against that? She couldn't bear the thought of this hated director finding out that his torment was turning her on.

Randy started with the front-right pony. He turned the vibrator on high and pushed it hard against the girl's crotch strap. He did seem to know his anatomy – he had found the spot directly opposite her clit. The crotch strap was pressed hard against that sensitive bundle of nerves, so the vibrations from the wand transmitted straight through. Randy used his free hand to grab the girl's propped up D-cups, squeezing hard and pinching her nipples through the thin fabric that covered them. In almost no time, front-right let out a moan and started swaying her hips.

As soon as his first target started getting into it, Randy moved on to the next. Front-right groaned in frustration, but the jerk just said, "That's all you get for now. We're on a very tight schedule. You'll need to keep working hard if you want another dose."

This was not at all what Paul had done with his rewards. What the ponies had agreed to was a slight touch that made them feel good and appreciated. The assistant director was just trying to make the girls sexually frustrated, and he was using it as an excuse for his own groping. He ran his hands all over middle-right's body as he pressed the vibrator into her crotch.

"You don't feel so tough to me," he mocked. He squeezed her hips, ass and tits and said, "In fact, you feel rather soft. I don't know why you even bothered trying to stand up to me. Look, you're already melting into my vibrator."

Middle-right stamped her high-heeled boots in frustrated rage as Randy left her behind. Annie, however, had other things to worry about. There was a man stepping up to her helpless body, with the ability to rub, squeeze and vibrate that body in any way he pleased, and she didn't have even the slightest ability to resist. Try though she might to cool herself down, that thought alone nearly sent her over the edge.

Annie started moaning before Randy even touched her, a fact that he did not miss. "What have we here?" he asked. "It looks like someone's getting off on her little predicament. Well, no sense in wasting time on you, you're getting your pleasure-reward every step of the way!"

Annie would have hung her head in shame, except that her tall posture collar didn't even let her look down. This pervert had discovered her new dirty secret, and had proclaimed it for everyone to hear. And worse, she was disappointed that he hadn't used the vibrator on her. She was furious with herself. She couldn't help it.

Once Randy had frustrated all of the girls, he dug out four long reins from the chariot. Each rein was supposed to be tied along one side of one column of ponies. There were spots on either side of their headgear to attach the reins, but it still took some finesse to get the spacing just right, so that when one rein was pulled it would direct all three of their heads in that direction. Randy clearly did not have this finesse. He made something that he thought was passable, but it ended up constantly pulling back on the right side of middle-left's head, and the tension never reached front-right on either side.

To compound the matter, steering six ponies with four reins requires a good amount of skill, which Randy was also lacking. He kept pulling the wrong two reins at a time, pulling the right column to the right and the left column to the left, or pulling both sides of one column and neither side of the other.

The ponies, of course, became extremely frustrated as they bore the brunt of the assistant director's learning curve. The idiot with the reins blamed the girls for every mistake, even when the mistake was obviously his, and he would always dole out punishment with his crop.

Annie and three other ponies decided to boycott at the same time after an especially egregious set of mistakes and punishments. Randy was livid, and he rushed over to the four offenders with crop raised. He only gave them one painful tit slap each, then unclipped front-left, who had not been involved in the latest effort. He turned her around like he had the last time, then gave her twenty hard tit slaps in fast succession. Annie and the others were broken after the first ten. Randy said that the second ten were for good measure in case they ever thought of being disobedient again.

Annie felt like a fool for thinking she could have withstood the assistant director's psychological attack. The only outcome of their effort was that he had shown again just how quickly and easily he could break them.

As Randy straightened out the front-left pony and reconnected her to the lead pole, Annie was surprised and thrilled to watch the week-willed woman slam her knee into the assistant director's crotch. Apparently everyone had a breaking point, and hers had been the gratuitous second set of tit slaps.

Randy doubled over in pain while Annie and her fellow ponies mentally congratulated their partner who had finally taken a stand. Of course, all they could actually do was stand there while Randy slowly recovered. They were still standing there, helpless, when Randy got back on his feet. Annie was still glad that front-left had found some backbone, but the gleam of anger in the assistant director's eyes made her more than a little worried.

Randy stood to the side of the front-left pony, where he had full access to her body but she had no way to reach him. He stroked her cheek as he said, in a quiet, creepy voice, "I bet you feel pretty proud of yourself, showing off to your little friends that you aren't a total pushover. Well, we'll see how happy they are with you when they learn what your thoughtless act of violence has earned them."

The vengeful assistant director left them for a moment, then came back with a big grin. "Look what I found!" he gloated. "It's an extension to the crop that will let me whip your tits from my chariot. Isn't that fantastic? Really, you should thank front-left for goading me into using it on all of you. I bet you'll fix your mistakes real quick now, so you can all be out of here sooner."

Annie saw that Randy had replaced the short leather rectangle at the end of his crop with a longer, thinner piece of leather. He would be able to swing the crop and wrap that leather piece around their bodies, landing the tip on the ill-protected skin of one tit or the other. 

To the ponies' great consternation, Randy was able to master the flicking motion of his new whip much faster than he was able to master the control of the reins. Whenever he landed a particular nasty blow, one unlucky pony would suffer a brutal sting, and they would all have to listen to a self-congratulatory cheer from behind 

The ponies and their driver eventually came to an understanding with the reins that allowed communication to flow, but the ponies still had to learn how to physically make the turns. It was no simple matter, though the risk of an unannounced, searing tit-sting really did force them to come up with a solution as fast as they possibly could.

Just when the ponygirl team started making workable turns, the head director walked into the staging warehouse with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Annie's breath caught. She hated this guy, but couldn't deny the hot anticipation she felt when thinking that his big strong hands might end up on her body. Randy was simply thrilled with the timing. He hopped off the chariot so he could brag about his girls to the boss and the big name actor. Initially, those two were quite happy with what they saw and complimented Randy on the excellent outcome of his casting call and the terrific quality of his costumes.

Annie felt like a piece of meat being inspected, especially when Arnold hefted front-left's boobs and said, "Really, you must tell me, how did you find six sets of big matching boobs that all had great legs and asses to go with them?"

"I just announced that I needed extras who would be working with you," Randy replied to the actor, "and hot girls came flocking!"

The three men laughed as the silent ponies' faces burned. Annie was especially annoyed, because if she had known that Schwarzenegger was in this movie she wouldn't have even shown up and would have avoided this whole mess altogether. She and the other ponies who were regular movie extras were accustomed to being treated like cheap commodities by the directors and the lead actors. It was different, however, after being trapped, bound, trained against their will, and displayed in such an obscene fashion.

The director was looking a little impatient, and asked Randy, "So, where is Paul from the fetish club? I expected him to be here working with the girls."

"I had to fire him," Randy declared brashly. "He wasn't getting results, and he wasn't going to come close to getting the girls ready in time. You'll see that I have done a much better job myself."

The director's face went ashen. "Do you realize," he said in a low, menacing tone, "that Paul is the best ponygirl trainer in the city, if not the country, and that it took me weeks of cajoling to get him on board?"

Randy started mumbling a defense, but the director said, "Stop! You'd better just show me what you've been able to train these girls to do, and it had better be good."

The assistant director swallowed hard. He gave the ponies a hard stare, as if to say, "You'd better not fuck me now," and tapped his crop in his hand as a warning. Annie and the others did go ahead and perform about as well as they ever had, which is to say that they were able to march and turn without tripping over each other, but it was far from elegant.

The director was shaking his head when Randy pulled his team to a stop. "Randy you stupid shit," he said, "did you even watch the videos of what we're trying to recreate here? These ponygirls need to be graceful, instead you've got them tripping around like a bunch of clumsy calves! Now we're going to have to shuffle the afternoon schedule around again so they can be trained the right way. Get Paul back in here ASAP. He'll have to work fast – Mr. Schwarzenegger here is catching a plane to his island off Fiji for some well deserved R&R, so we have to start shooting in just two hours tops."

Randy started babbling again, but the director shouted, "This is not a debate! Get Paul back here to finish the training or you will be fired."

Annie was thrilled to hear her tormentor get dressed down by his boss, and to hear that their training would be passed back from Randy to Paul. Her happiness was cut short, however, when Arnold opened his mouth. He was resting his hand on one of the front pony's hips as he said, "You know, since these girls need more training anyway, maybe we should rethink the slow march they're doing. All the other dream scenes we're shooting are fast-paced and hectic. Maybe they should be doing a quick trot or something instead."

"You are absolutely right," the director agreed, "but I don't think they'll have time to learn to trot before your flight."

"That's okay," Arnold said, "I want this thing to be done right. I'll just push the flight back. Do you think five more hours of training will do the trick?"

Annie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Apparently they had been busting their asses just so this asshole actor could get off to Fiji sooner. Then he makes a little suggestion, and they're stuck training for another five hours? After just two hours, her feet and shoulders were killing her and she felt ready to collapse. How on earth was she going to survive five more, even if they got Paul back as the trainer? And how could they possibly be expected to do anything that resembled a trot while wearing the high-heeled boots and all the gear?

Arnold and the director left while Annie was worrying. She was shaken out of her reverie by hearing Randy on the phone, begging Paul to come back. "Yes, I know I rudely kicked you out," he was saying. "But now I need you to come back... Wait, please, I really need you to... No, Mr. Esja, you don't understand, I'll do whatever it takes... Yes, really, I'll do anything... Yes, of course I'll come pick you up at your club... Yes, sir, I'll pass that along."

As soon as Randy was off the phone, he shouted, "Joey! Get over here!"

Annie thought Joey looked like he was barely eighteen, and saw that he was clearly shy about being around her and the other attractive, bound ladies.

"Joey," Randy instructed, "I need you to watch these girls while I'm gone. Here are your exact instructions, which you are to repeat word-for-word if Paul asks when he gets here: 'You are to sit the ponies on their benches, then loosen the laces on their armbinders, without touching the straps around their wrists. You will then water them through the holes in their mouth plates and massage their shoulders. Also, tell them that Randy is... is... a douche-bag.'"

Annie loved it. Paul had clearly pressed his advantage over Randy. She could only wonder what else Paul would make the asshole assistant director do. However, in the meantime, she and the other bound women were now alone with yet another stranger. She was glad to see Randy leave, but still incredulous that complete control of her helpless body could just be passed from person to person like a baton. Now that baton holder was nothing more than some kid. Albeit, a rather cute kid with a well-built body, but still, it was outrageous!

Joey moved the benches into place and the ponies got off their sore feet with great relief. The relief in their shoulders as their new handler began loosening their armbinders was even greater. Annie noted that Joey carefully followed his instruction not loosen the strap around her wrists. She was still equally helpless, just a little more comfortable.

Annie could tell that Joey was nervous and hesitant to touch the bound ponies as he worked at loosen their armbinders. When he moved on to watering them, he seemed even more nervous. Paul had held his ponies' heads back and squeezed the water bottle to help them drink. Joey seemed embarrassed to touch them. He still got them watered, but they had to do most of the work, and ended up getting a lot of water spilled over their spandex suits.

There was no way for Joey to minimize touching while following his final instruction: giving shoulder massages to the helpless, spandex covered beauties before him. Annie had guessed that this kid's apparent lack of desire to touch them was actually just a result of his shyness. She supposed that the six sets of spandex covered D-cups could be intimidating, even if their owners were helplessly bound.

Annie was again the last to be watered, but the first to get Joey's hands on her shoulders. "Uhhh, sorry about having to do this," he told her. "Just let me know if I'm squeezing too hard or anything."

Annie could tell that this kid had big strong hands. The feel of them around her shoulders made her breathing get faster and she felt herself getting hotter. Unfortunately, her big masseuse was going way too easy for her tastes. Both her sore shoulders and her new sub-personality wanted those big hands to really take charge and dig in. She moaned her frustration, which Joey took as a sign to back off.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "Was I squeezing too hard?"

Annie shook her head No as emphatically as her collar would allow. "Uhhh," he said, "do you want me to stop all together?"

Annie shook her head and stomped her feet. That was not what she wanted!

"Ummm," came Joey's slow realization, "so... does that mean you want me to squeeze harder?"

Annie nodded as hard as she could. The kid finally put his hands back on her and said, "Okay, just keep nodding until I'm going hard enough for you."

Joey gave her shoulders a rather weak squeeze and said, "Harder?" Annie nodded her head vigorously, and continued nodding and nodding until the big hunk behind her was digging into her shoulders with everything he had. He told her as much, but she just kept nodding anyway. Her shoulders were loving the attention, and her whole body wanted more of it. She let out a moan that even the shy kid could only interpret as a sexual pleasure.

"Oh, uhh," he stammered, "I guess you're enjoying this?"

Annie nodded and moaned more. The kid finally started getting some confidence. Most of his shyness originated from his assumption that these beautiful women wouldn't want anything to do with him, but that was clearly not the case for the hottie currently moaning in his hands. He started branching out, massaging her upper arms and the parts of her back that weren't blocked by the armbinder or corset. She encouraged him with new moans every step of the way. When he moved to the front of her shoulders, the proximity of his hands to her breasts started driving her crazy. She moaned as loudly as she could and started leaning back into him.

Joey was finally picking up cues pretty quickly. His big hands slid down to Annie's D cups and squeezed with authority. He probably didn't need any more encouragement at that point, but Annie's moans kept coming anyway. She couldn't stop them if she tried, and at that point she would not have been able to stop Joey even if she wanted to. He proceeded to squeeze her breasts like they had never been squeezed, groping her big mounds and pinching hard on her very erect nipples.

Annie whined in displeasure when Joey's right hand left her right breast, then she squeaked in shock as that hand started pushing its way under her crotch strap. She had a moment of panic when Joey started rubbing her clit through her spandex suit, realizing that she may have pushed the formerly reserved assistant too far. She was, however, powerless to stop him at that point, and that powerlessness drove her sexually crazy.

Annie had been riding a climactic edge ever since Joey's hands hit her boobs. She orgasmed almost as soon as her clit started getting attention. If Joey noticed this orgasm, however, he showed no signs of stopping or even slowing. Annie's hyper-sensitive body continued to writhe beneath his hands as he grasped and kneaded her with a primal urgency.

Annie's second orgasm built more slowly, then eventually crested with even more force. Her intimate masseuse still showed no signs of stopping or slowing. At that point she knew she needed to tell him to stop, but she was completely unable to communicate with the sexual maniac behind her. She tried shaking her head and stomping her feet, but she was also still moaning uncontrollably. Joey took any and every sign as an encouragement to manipulate her body harder and faster. Annie became convinced she was going to suffer a death-by-orgasm.

Just after Annie orgasmed for the third time, she heard a familiar, deep voice, and opened her eyes to see Paul with his hands extending to the assistant behind her. "Joey," he said, gently but firmly, "it's time to stop."

"What? Huh?" Joey stammered, then came back to earth and said, "Oh my gosh! What have I done? Oh shit, I am so sorry!"

"It's okay," reassured Paul, "I'm betting that she'll thank you later, but for now why don't you help her out by giving her some more water."

Annie gratefully accepted the water from the thoroughly embarrassed assistant, and even winked at him to try to let him know that everything was okay. She then watched as Paul proceeded to give quick but thorough shoulder rubs to her fellow ponies. Of course, they were considerably less thorough than the massage she had received, and she thought she heard a couple of the ponies whine because of this. Annie was pretty humiliated about the orgasmic sound show she must have given her comrades. At least their whines for more let her think that some of the other women would have done the same thing in her situation.

The whines changed tone when Paul started to re-cinch up their armbinders. Annie had been so relieved to have him back instead of the maniac Randy that she'd almost forgotten how strict and demanding he was. He was a master ponygirl-trainer, and they were his ponygirls, whether they liked it or not.

With his ponies laced up and back on their feet, Paul said, "All right ladies, I'm afraid we're going to have to take a couple of steps back. It sounds like Randy has ruined some of the fine form you were beginning to pick up, so we're going to have to start again with high-stepping in place."

Annie and a couple others groaned out loud. They knew how far they had to get, if they were going to actually master some kind of prance pace, and starting all over was frustrating.

"Hush ponies," Paul said. "You'll have to trust me that this is the fastest way to get where we need to end up. I do have something that might lift your spirits, however."

He pulled out his phone and brought up a live video from inside his club. There, the ponies could see that their former tormentor was receiving a taste of his own medicine. He was completely naked, except for a set of gear that was unquestionably worse the gear locked on the women. His arms were trapped in full reverse-prayer. His posture collar was topped with spikes that dug into his chin if he didn't keep his head back as far as it would go. Nasty-looking clamps had been fastened to his nipples, which held up little buckets. He was forced to use those buckets to ferry water back and forth across a large room. His crotch and ass were completely unadorned, leaving them open as clear targets to the women with crops and whips who harried him as he ran back and forth.

Annie laughed soundlessly along with her fellow ponies. Paul explained that that the assistant director had been so desperate to keep his job that he had agreed to the entire predicament just to get Paul to come back and complete the ponygirl training. Then Paul told his ponies it was time to re-start that training, and that he still expected their complete focus and effort.

Paul soon had them marching in place to his metronome, but quickly found that the light corrective slaps he had been using before no longer had the desired effect. It wasn't that the women were ignoring his corrections, it was just that the low-level pain no longer triggered the necessary muscle memory.

"I'm sorry, ladies," Paul said, "but it looks like Randy has raised your pain tolerance quite a bit. I'm going to have to increase my corrective slaps accordingly if they are to have the affect we need. If we had more time, maybe we could find another solution, but time is unfortunately not a luxury we have to work with."

Annie should not have been surprised that Paul was capable of delivering an even more painful slap with the crop than Randy had been. She couldn't make herself get mad at him for it, though. It was Randy's fault for upping the ante, and the studio's fault for setting ridiculous time schedules. Anyway, the slaps were targeted and timed perfectly to correct very specific problems, and they quickly helped the ponies get back into fine marching shape. As they crossed the warehouse, every knee was lifted in perfect unison, each one rising until the thigh above it was exactly parallel to the ground before heading together back downward. It was truly a thing of beauty.

Paul patiently instructed his team in the finer points of making turns while marching. He led them through a couple of exercises before getting in the chariot himself and guiding them with the reins. Annie was a little annoyed that they had to bother with the marching turns at all, since the director was only going to be filming the supposed prance pace that they still had to learn. As if he had read her mind, Paul announced that it was critical to learn these intermediary steps if they were going to be successful at the much more difficult prance turns.

Annie wasn't entirely convinced, but the point was not up for debate. Paul made this clear with judicious use of the long crop, which still sported the long leather whip end that Randy had attached. Paul never used this to whip their breasts. Every stroke stung a body part in the precise place that it had gone out of compliance. Annie, marching in the back position, had to take turns more slowly than the front ponies. She started off trying to push the turn too fast. Paul swung the crop so that the thin leather end wrapped around her calf, painfully stinging the outside edge of her calf while he firmly told her to take the turns slower. She never made the mistake again.

Annie wondered about the acceptability of Paul using the whip crop on them. They had given him permission to use a crop, but that was a long time ago, and didn't seem like it should have included the use of the more painful whip end. It had certainly seemed like an unfair extension of authority when Randy used it, and it was just as painful when Paul used it, even if it was being used to produce better results. Of course, this point was not up for debate either. Annie was in no position to question anything; her only role was to follow.

While Annie's thoughts dwelled on her subservience, she remembered how much it had bothered her to have Randy right behind her in the chariot, with a front-row seat to watch every wiggle and jiggle of her ass. Now there was another man with that same view, and even though he wasn't as much of an asshole, it still bothered her. She wanted to know if he was actually looking, or if all his attention was on correcting their high stepping legs. 

Annie clenched and wiggled her ass in quick succession. Sure enough, almost before she was done, the crop whip stung her left butt cheek and then her right. "No extraneous movements, pony," Paul commanded from behind her. Annie realized that he was indeed watching her ass, but it was with the same eye that he was watching every part of her body, and every part of the other ponies' bodies. It didn't creep her out the way Randy had, though it did highlight her extreme vulnerability, which she now recognized was a big turn-on for her.

The team progressed quickly when mistakes were only made once, or twice at most. They were soon pulling Paul all over the warehouse, turning in perfect unison as the reins guided their heads to the left or right. Soon enough, their trainer pulled them to a stop, got out the benches, and gave them a well deserved break.

When the break was over, the prance step turned out to be every bit as difficult as Annie had feared. Every step was a little jump off the ground, and if they didn't all jump at exactly the same time then they would all be thrown off. Simply jumping together, of course, wasn't good enough. Their knees had to be lifted even higher than was required by the marching pace. Their lower legs then had to be kicked out and quickly brought back in before they landed.

The prance was ridiculously hard to accomplish in the high heeled boots. Annie's feet were hurting before they even started to prance. Every prance step she landed made it worse than before. If she could have, she would have screamed that she couldn't take it anymore. However, she couldn't scream, or voice her complaint in any way. She and her fellow ponies had no choice but to continue, pushing themselves to far greater heights than they could have achieved had quitting been an option.

Paul was, of course, aware that his ponies' feet would be quite sore. He gave them frequent short brakes, and kept them practicing hard the rest of the time. The sensuousness that Annie felt from her position only increased as her skill increased, and the attraction of being helpless in Paul's care never diminished. She worked hard in order to impress him as much as she did to avoid his whip, and kept yearning for the small rewards of touch he gave her during the breaks.

Time passed in a blur for Annie as she and her teammates made slow but steady progress. The five hours seemed to pass in a blink, though by the end she felt as though she had been a ponygirl for an eternity. She worried vaguely about what this was doing to her mental state, but she was in no condition for a self-analysis. That would have to wait.

The director and Arnold Schwarzenegger returned right on schedule, and were absolutely amazed with what they saw. Six sets of long, shiny legs leapt off the ground in perfect unison, rising high and landing together step after step. Annie also noticed their gazes lingering on the six sets of breasts that were bouncing in unison. Annie still wasn't thrilled about showing off her body in this obscene way in front of the men, but she was quite proud of what she and the team had learned, and did appreciate the compliments that their eyes gave her.

The compliments that they spoke, however, were all for the trainer. "You have done a truly amazing job training these girls," the director said. "They were like blobs of clay before you came, and your firm hand has molded them into something beautiful."

"Agreed," said Arnold. "I thought they were hopeless when I saw them tripping all over each other. If you can train them, you've proven that you could train anyone!"

Paul did step in and say, "These ladies have all worked very hard," but the director just told him he was being modest. Annie knew that Paul did indeed deserve a lot of the credit, but she'd been working her ass off as well. They didn't need to go and call her a barely trainable blob. It was especially annoying because the director had put his hand on her ass and squeezed as he called them blobs of clay. Why did he assume that was acceptable? Just because she couldn't do anything to avoid it?

Paul spent a couple minutes showing Arnold how to handle the reins. Annie had forgotten that the whole point of their training was so that this asshole actor could ride them around in front of a camera. She really didn't want him holding her reins or standing in that command position behind her. Unfortunately, her trainer was handing off the reins to him, and with them, complete control over her body.

Arnold took a couple spins around the warehouse to get used to driving. His commands weren't nearly as smooth as Paul's, but the well-trained ponies were able to follow them clearly enough. Annie hated being in the back all over again. Arnold made no secret of the fact that he was staring at her jiggling ass cheeks, calling out, "Shake those fine asses, girls!" He even reached down and pinched her butt mid stride, nearly throwing the entire team off balance.

"Okay," the director said when Arnold pulled the team to a stop, "We're ready to go! Let's get these girls out to the plaza before we lose the daylight altogether."

Annie wanted to shout, Wait! What do you mean, 'out to the plaza?' She had assumed that they were just going to be doing the filming inside the warehouse, maybe in front of a green screen or something so they could paste in a fantasy backdrop. She couldn't be all that surprised that they hadn't told her all the plans. Directors often left extras largely in the dark and just expected them to go with the flow. That seemed to be especially true when those extras were unable to move or speak or complain in any way.

Annie just prayed they didn't mean the very large, very busy plaza right outside the studio. It seemed silly to be concerned about people seeing her in her outfit, when millions would see her as soon as the movie came out. There was something much more personal, and more humiliating, however, about the thought of being seen in person. 

Sure enough, Arnold drove the team out of the staging warehouse and down the road to the big plaza. A movie crew had cleared out half of the big open-space for the shooting, but that only meant that an even larger-than-normal number of people had gathered to see what was going on. The crowd had swelled when rumor got out that Arnold Schwarzenegger would be there, and it swelled even further as friends called each other to say that they absolutely had to come see the crazy fetish scene going on.

Annie wanted to die from embarrassment when she was pranced into the plaza. The crowd of onlookers went silent when they first caught sight of the team of buxom, spandex-covered babes prancing towards them. One viewer let out a whistle, and that opened a flood gate of cheering, clapping and cat-calling. Annie wanted to turn and run, but trying to do so would just cause the whole team to wipe out. She wished she could at least hide her erect nipples, or stop her boobs from bouncing all over the place, but with her arms trapped strictly behind her there was no way to keep her tits from putting on their erotic show for the onlookers.

The arrogant actor behind Annie was clearly loving all the attention, and was surely continuing to enjoy his prime view of all the spandex covered bodies in front of him. He drove his team in a wide circle around the outside of the area the studio had roped off, giving everyone present an up-close look at the bound and prancing ponies. Annie wanted to at least resist the pull on her reins that guided her right up to the rope, but any misstep on her part would just trip up her fellow ponies and make them all look even more foolish. Instead, she strictly followed every tug on her head and command from her rider, as she had been trained to do. 

When they finally got down to business, the actual filming was fairly quick. They did a number of takes, but each take just involved the ponygirl team being driven around a corner and past a large gothic building on the side of the plaza. Arnold would then turn them around and prance them back to the starting point. The cameras did a lot of close-ups of the big name actor behind Annie, but also rolled in close to her at one point. It looked as if the cameraman was focusing solely on her tits. She snorted in her disgust and frustration, which Arnold and the director apparently thought was authentic-ponygirl and awesome. Annie's irritated reaction had just secured a place in the movie for her big bouncing boobs.

After the filming wrapped up, Arnold drove the ponies back to the warehouse. True to form, he walked around to each of them, patting their asses and squeezing their boobs. He finished with the very panicky and very turned on Annie, but didn't even look at her eyes and never had any idea how aroused she was. He just said, "Thanks for the lovely ride, girls, now I really must be going."

The actor left, leaving the ponies alone with Paul and just a couple other assistants who were cleaning things up in the warehouse. This meant that Paul was on his own and had to release and unbind the ponies one-by-one. Annie wondered if this was done on purpose, so that the freed women wouldn't have a chance to talk with each other and plan any kind of retaliation. Annie also wondered if it was a coincidence that Paul had left her for last. By the time he unhooked her from the chariot, everyone else had left the warehouse. She saw Paul look around to confirm that they were alone, then he grasped her by both shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Pony," he said softly. "You appeared to enjoy your training more than the others. Am I correct in guessing that this was your first time being helplessly bound, and the first time you realized that you are sexually submissive?"

Annie wasn't sure she was ready to apply this label to herself. It did not jive with her feminism or her self-image. It was, however, undeniably true. The gentle, dominant man holding her knew it; he was just looking for her to admit it to herself. Annie looked up at the big man and meekly nodded, Yes.

"This was a not an ideal setting for your first encounter," Paul continued. "I would suggest that you come back with me to my club, now, dressed as you are, so that you can be properly introduced to your own inner desires and needs. You will have to come willingly, though. Nod your head if you would like to come with me."

Annie was sure this was a bad idea. She had been through so much already. Her feet, legs, and shoulders ached worse than she could ever remember. She wanted to get out of her gear, take a long bath, and... and... and pleasure herself like crazy. As insane as it seemed, that was her most pressing need. If she just went home, she wasn't sure if she would be able to fill that need with her own fingers and vibrator. The man standing in front of her clearly knew much more about her own needs than she did, and his recommendation was that she come immediately to his club. She had no idea what she would find there, or how much longer she would be stuck if she agreed, but she found herself unable to resist the temptation. She took a deep breath, looked up, nodded Yes, and was whisked away on an adventure that lasted for the rest of her life.


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