The Nude Marathoner 2: Initiation

(story continues from The Nude Marathoner 1: Seduction)

Part Three:Initiation

Suzie directed him into shower area, freed herself from his arm around her neck, and propelled him into one of a bank of roomy shower stalls with elegant sheet glass doors. As soon as he got into the stall, she took his shackled wrists and brought them up to a waiting stainless steel hook about eight feet from the tiled floor. Stretching to his full height to avoid strain on his shoulders, he watched her close a hasp on the hook and he realized that he was now locked to the wall with his arms up in the air until she let him down again. He tested his weight on the hook, and found that it would easily take his full mass in the event that he lost his balance. It also meant there was no way he was going to use force to rip it out to gain his freedom by choice.

Noticing him go through this, she slapped his naked bottom again, still playfully but with significantly more force that before. He felt the skin warm and tingle pleasantly, and twisted around to grin at her to indicate that he was definitely waking up. He looked down and saw his cock rising to confirm this quite for all to see.

The beautiful woman grabbed her hair back and pulled it into a tail, then wound it up into a bun pinned together against the back of her head. Satisfied that it was secured out of the way, she slipped easily out of her bathrobe and hung it on one of a bank of hooks on the far wall. Padding softly back toward her shower partner, she stepped in to join him. She flashed one of her megawatt grins at him as he studied her nude form displayed out in front of him. He of course had seen her naked many times before, but the fact of everything he had been through combined with the reality of him being chained to the wall and unable to act on his desire to embrace her caused his cock to stand straight up and harder than he had felt it in a very long time.

Without a word, she turned on the water and proceeded to give him a delightfully soapy scrubdown that was, to be plain, quite, quite thorough indeed. Unable to do anything except stand there and let it happen, he found himself closing his eyes and leaning into the tiled wall of the shower stall and savouring every scrubbing caress. When she was finished, she gave herself a quick clean, and then put her tools away and stepped back in to just rest her clean, warm wet skin into his own in a truly loving embrace that was perhaps the most simple, intimate act of affection he had ever experienced. He could only hang there, feeling her warm breath against his upper chest and her soft breasts resting into his ribs as her silky fingers held his sides and rose and fell with his slow, utterly relaxed breathing.

The only thought that consumed him was that he was right to have trusted her. He was right to have believed in her. Even though he had spent the day naked, bizarrely publicly nude, had been subjected to an astounding succession of embarrassing and humiliating surprises, and was now shackled to a shower stall in the middle of goodness knows where, it was all so very, very, absolutely right. She was revealing herself to him. She was revealing something in himself to both of them. And everything was . . . perfect.

As if in response to these, his innermost thoughts, she took a deep, deep breath and sank to her knees in front of him. Taking up his balls in her hands, she reached out her lips and began nibbling at the very tip of his penis. Pulling back the rest of his foreskin, exposing the most sensitive part of his entire body, she started to flick her tongue against him teasingly. Slowly, desperately slowly, she worked her way down and up and down his rock hard shaft, and he felt his knees buckle and he let his bound arms take his full weight as he surrendered to the mastery of her magical treatment.

She took him full into her mouth, and began pumping and pumping her face on him, and he sank deeper and deeper into an emotional and sensual place he had never knew existed inside him before. He felt his whole pelvis teeming with energy, and it began to rise up his spine and light up something deep in his brain. What was she doing to him? How could she make him feel so . . . so . . . alive? He was losing his sense of himself as a flesh and bone creature and thought he would dissolve into a bubble of pure energy.

His eyes rolled back into his skull and he was so far gone that he barely noticed her release him and rise up to turn off the water and open the glass door to reach for the pile of soft, plush towels nearby.

She let him drift in his intoxicated reverie as she toweled herself dry, and then tossed it away to get a dry one to do him. Keeping well clear of his still rock hard member, she began at the top of his extended fingers and worked her way down each arm. It wasn’t until she began pressing the cloth into his chest that he came back enough to understand what she was doing to him. She smiled as his eyes opened, and then she began rubbing his skin more vigorously to really dry him.

He exhaled a deep sigh that was equal measures ecstasy and frustration, and he realized that he had not climaxed, he had not been done to full release. He was still so deeply sensitized and stimulated that he thought a butterfly flitting by could have been enough to make him explode like Vesuvius. And yet, here was this gloriously naked goddess rubbing him with such an expert touch that he somehow know he could not do it.

“What are you DOING to me?” he gasped in desperation. She ignored him completely, instead rubbing him down with increased energy as if not wanting to waste a single towel stroke until he was totally dried off.

Letting out a breath that was half gasp and oddly half almost a sob, he squeezed his eyelids closed again in an attempt to ride out the crashing waves of sensations and emotions carrying him in six directions at once.

She stepped away from him, satisfied that he was dry, tossed the towel into another waiting hamper, and pressed a button on the wall by the door. Turning back to him, she stood in silence and patiently waited for him to calm down enough to open his eyes and proceed to the next stage of her work.

At last he did so, and he opened his eyes again and smiled at her, half in pleasure, half in a puppy dog plea for her to finish what she had started. She moved a step closer to him, but made no motion to touch him. “I believe you’re presentable enough for a bit of the tour now. Shall I let you down so we can proceed?”

Realizing that she was ignoring his pleading looks, his heart sank a bit, but then he found that he wanted to do nothing to displease her. “Yes. Whatever . . . whatever you want.”

She took his chin with one firm hand. “There’s a good boy. I think . . . I do believe it’s time you started addressing me properly. Don’t you think so?”

Without thinking, he blurted out, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She instructed him without the slightest hint of admonishment. “Yes, Milady.”

Instinctively, he took up the command and accepted it. “Yes. Milady. Yes, Milady.”

She smiled contentedly, and reached up to unhook his wrists. Bringing his arms down, she let her grip go and reached to massage his tight shoulders for a moment.

“Thank you, Milady. That feels wonderful.”

She resumed her grip on his shackled wrists, and raised them up and kissed his fingers as a reward for his good behaviour. He smiled, feeling suddenly a deep happiness, and allowed her to guide him out of the shower stall and then out into the hallway again.

This time, they proceeded further on down the passageway, toward the soft, warm lights of the cozier, less institutional parts of the building. With him trailing behind her, his gaze respectful but very intrigued by the soft swaying of her beautifully rounded buttocks, she led him into a large room full of soft couches and chairs and a big open area in the center. The far wall was all plate glass to the outside, and in seeing that it was dark out, he realized that much time had passed since he had been spirited away from the humiliation of the race’s end. He casually noted a large, heavy wooden table on one side that seemed in the process of being set up with food and drink for some sort of social event, but with a large empty space in the center.

She brought him across to the middle of the open space, and he smiled at the feeling of the soft, thick silk Persian rugs under his suddenly very sensitive feet as he shuffled across the room. She positioned him to stand at a spot, and she moved to one of the couches to find a short kimono jacket that glowed of the finest silk satin in a wonderful emerald green colour. Slipping into it, she tied the belt snugly around her waist, and unfastened her hair to let the waves of soft, blonde tresses spill down to frame her face, across her shoulders and down the back of the luxurious robe. He sighed at how lovely the colour of the emerald green was against her golden mane, and his heart swelled with a sort of pride and honour that he was in the company of such radiance and beauty.

She extended a finger toward the couch again, and he let his gaze focus on it more clearly. “What do you see there, my pet?” He blinked to make sure, and his eyes made out a dozen or more bundles of what appeared to be soft, blue ropes neatly coiled and laid out.

“Rope, Milady? Bundles of rope?”

“Do they intrigue you? Do they call out to you? Are they yours, my pet?”

He was unclear at all what she wanted, what he should say or do. “Milady?”

She moved closer to him again, so that he could sense the intoxicating perfume that must have been infused into the robe she was now draped in. “I would like to give you my ropes, my darling boy. I can hear them calling out to you, and I want to give them to you. Will you accept my ropes? Are you strong enough to bear the weight of such a gift from your Lady?”

He felt a sudden wave of energy crash up his spine and explode into his brain. It was so intense, it first seemed a chill, then a heat, then . . . he didn’t know how to describe it. He was instantly consumed with the realization that she wanted to tie him up. Not like he had been, like he was right now, simply cuffed or shackled. That was rope. Soft, blue, radiant rope. Coiled there, ready to take him. Almost glowing with life of its own, with a will of its own. And there was so very, very, very much of it. He swallowed hard and looked into her eyes.

“Milady?”

She stepped right into him and took hold of his manacled hands with a touch that was firm, insistent, yet also desperately vulnerable, as if she needed for him to want this. As if it only made sense if it was his choice. She was strong enough to take him, but that wasn’t the way it needed to be. She needed for him to give himself to her, freely, happily, honestly.

Without thinking, he found himself kneeling before her. He couldn’t resist burying his face into the silken, fragrant fabric covering her most intimate magnificence. In an instant, her hands were in his hair, pressing him deeper, deeper into her. He breathed in her perfume, her musk, her deepest, most secret need, and he knew. He just . . . he just knew.

Tilting his head so that his eyes could look up to her gazing down at him, he spoke simply and truly. From his heart to hers. “I accept. Milady, I accept everything.”

He could feel her spirit rise. She released his head and touched his shoulders to indicate that he stand up. He got to his feet again, and she kissed him once right in the middle of his chest. Her hair and her robe brushed against him, and he barely noticed that she was unlocking his shackles. He felt a sudden, deep pang of loss as she stepped back with the cuffs in her hands, and he realized that, for the first time in many, many hours, he was free of restraints. Their eyes locked once more, and they both knew he was free, but he would never, could never leave. He was bound to her in a spirit of absolute surrender.

She smiled wistfully, and moved to set the cuffs down. She selected a coil of the soft, blue rope and stepped back toward him, uncoiling it as she moved. When she reached him again, he was ready. And she began.

Speaking softly, but for him with the power of utter dominion, she guided him, “Turn around, my pet. Turn around and give me your hands behind your back.”

He swiveled slowly away from her, and found his heart instantly aching for the sight of her magnificent beauty. Realizing he was crossing another new threshold, he let his arms inch their way behind so that his fingers were resting lightly on his naked buttocks. He felt her lean into him, and her whispers went straight into the deepest recesses of his brain.

“You will now know me as my true self. I am the Lady Suzanne. You will from this moment forward know me, think of me and refer to me as such. Tell me and show me that you understand this, my pet.”

He spoke softly, trying to match her delicacy as well as her passion. “You are my Lady Suzanne. I know you only as Lady Suzanne. Milady, thank you. It is an honour beyond words to finally meet you in your true magnificence.” Despite his trancelike mood, the depth of the words coming out of his mouth surprised him. And yet still, he felt his heart swelling with pride, deep abiding pride.

She flicked her tongue tenderly over his ear as a reward for his heartfelt obedience. “Very good, my pet. The ropes will now possess you.”

She let her fingers slide down his arms all the way from the shoulders to his wrists, then she gripped him and brought his wrists in close and flattened his palms out against each other. The whole time she never stopped purring into his ear from someplace deep in her belly, setting off wave upon wave of energy descending his spine, through his legs and down to his toes. “Just relax, pet. Just let the ropes take hold. Let them take you. Let them possess you. Let them love you. Let the ropes control you and love every inch of you, body and soul.”

The rope encircled his wrists and tightened. She looped it around three full turns, neatly stacking the rows, then twisting to loop them between to cinch the tie securely. “Just breathe. Deeper. Deeper.” She knotted the ends off well up and away from his fingers, then rested his bound hands into the small of his back and kissed his shoulder as another reward.

He exhaled deeply as her lips touched his skin and he still felt her kiss as he sensed her move to the couch to bring more coils of the rope to bind him. Without a sound except for his breathing and her whispered purring instruction, she uncoiled another length of rope and slid it around his arms just above his elbows. “Relax, little one. Let the rope work its magic. Relax into its touch. Let it guide you. Let it make love to you. Relax. Relax.” She felt him let go another layer of resistance and used the moment to draw his elbows closer and closer, almost touching. “Relax. Trust the love. Trust the truth of it. Relax.” He let out another sigh, and she tightened once more, and his elbows came fully together. She continued her stacked loops around his limbs, and then cinched the tie off as with his wrists. Her work was simply flawless.

She kissed him right at the base of his skull, and he felt his knees weaken. In a sudden wave of panic that he might disappoint her by losing his balance, he sucked in a deep draught of air, and straightened up to his full height, settling in to the feeling of having his arms lashed so tightly together behind him. He felt his chest expanding, his ribs opening up, and a new wave of pride and happiness thrilled his spirits. Something deep in his pelvis dropped, relaxed, sank into a vulnerable openness he had never dreamed he could feel. His cock rose again, now simply a small outward sign of his profound, complete stimulation.

She looped a new strand of the rope through his wrist tie, then brought it round his waist from each direction at the same time, hugging him, letting the soft skin of her forearms and the satin luxury of the sleeves of her robe caress him and coax him deeper into his surrender. She made several neat loops and tied the ends off around his wrists, binding his hands firmly down to his lower back. “That’s it. That’s it. Just relax. They love you. They want you. They must possess you completely. You belong to the ropes. You love the way they own you. You love the way they possess you. Relax.”

Another rope, this time around his chest, pressing his elbows against his spine and locking them there. Tying it off, she immediately took another strand and matched it with more loops binding his upper arms, almost fusing his limbs to his torso. As much for artistry as binding, she formed a knot in the front and brought the rope down to loop through the lower wrappings so that he was cinched up so tightly and beautifully that he would from this point almost feel like he was wearing a rope corset. She tied the ends off down to his elbows again, and gave him a moment to adjust his breathing to his deeper confinement. “Just breathe. Slowly, deeply. Relax into the rhythm. Nothing matters now but the ropes and the breath. Very good. Very, very good.” She leaned fully into him and embraced him to help him relax and get used to his new breathing rhythm. With another kiss right between his shoulders, she retrieved yet more bindings.

More strands around his waist, this time dividing in two in front just below his navel. She reached around and brought the rope ends through between his legs, on either side of his cock and balls. Cinching it up snugly, she brought the ends through the mass of rope cinching his wrists, and he blanched at the realization that if he even wiggled his fingers, these strands would rub his balls and tickle his anus invasively. His cock, already hard, stood up again and rudely demanded attention that he simply knew would not be coming.

She brought the next piece around his thighs, locking his upper legs together and driving the rope even deeper into his most physically intimate places. She managed to squeeze the ends through to cinch these loops, and her silken tresses drove him even more into his passion as they brushed and caressed his legs and buttocks with tantalizing feathery wafting. Her scent was all over him, her fingers, her hair . . . she was drowning him in the essence of her supreme power and will.

Finally, she brought several coils and moved around in front of him. He gazed down at the top of her head and watched her sit cross-legged at his feet. He desperately desired for her to look up, even for a second and flash him a smile, a wink, anything, but she was too concentrated now on finishing her work.

More rope around his legs: above his knees and cinched, below his knees and cinched, then cinched between the loops, framing his knees in the glowing blue bindings. He told himself he was not a prisoner, he was an object of her art, and he knew that it was true. Every loop, every knot, every strand was so elegantly placed for look and for binding. He was being possessed by her art, and he felt such joy as he had never thought possible. His ankles were next, and in a flash he was fully bound. By the strength of the emotion between them, he was able to stand straight upright, but otherwise, he could move his head, wiggle his fingers and toes, and that was the end of it.

She rose again, floating up almost as if by force of thought, and she took a second to confirm that she was satisfied. Leaning her soft, silken form into his chest, she kissed him on each nipple, then embraced him fully as a well-deserved reward for being so utterly cooperative and obedient. Sliding around behind him without letting go, she felt him sigh all the way down to his toes.

Whispering into his ear, she rendered her judgment, “I do believe you are now presentable, my pet. Are you ready?”

The tingly washes of energy coursing through him from her caresses turned icy cold as he realized what she was saying. There were others about, and he was to be shown off to them in the full glory of his naked surrender.

She felt his whole body turn rigid as he faced his powerlessness in this new light, and she clutched him tighter, and her whispers turned to firm, yet reassuring, commands. “That’s right, pet. You must know every Lady has her Court. You have been fully prepared. And now you will be presented. Trust me. I am your Lady and you are my pet. You have surrendered all this to me. You are loved. You are safe. You are mine.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and wanted for one briefest flash of an instant, to be able to run, run like the wind into the night and never stop running until . . . until . . . until . . . nothing. He exhaled it all out, as he knew he was not lost. He was found. There was nowhere to go, because this, here, now was everything and was all. He opened his eyes once more and waited for whatever was to be.

It was not long in coming. Feeling him relax again, she held him by the elbows and stepped to his side. Calling out in a firm, relaxed command, she summoned those awaiting. “It is time. Your Lady is ready to command you.”

He felt movement in a passageway opposite to the one they came through from the treatment rooms, and he sucked in a deep breath and held it, in spite of himself. What appeared from that hallway was both utterly shocking and yet totally inevitable.

Four essentially naked figures glided silently in a line into the main room and arranged themselves in a row to present themselves to the Lady Suzanne, their Lady. Two of them were men, the men who had carried him in from the taxi, although right then he did not know them as such. They were naked, save for heavy steel manacles on their wrists in front and their ankles, joined together by lengths of heavy chain that restricted their movements but clearly allowed them to execute Milady’s commands. Each of them also wore a thick, stainless steel collar that appeared to be welded or latched on permanently. A small medallion dangled from a ring below their chins, with a large “S” formed into it with embedded gemstones.

The men stood at either end of the row, and the two figures in the middle were the cause of Jonah’s surprise. It was none other than Charlene and Maggie, his running mate and her bound-to-the-bed plaything. Of course, he thought. Everything was all connected somehow. He didn’t know the full story, but now at least he knew that there was one. He smiled at the feeling, and he knew that his trust in these strange, beautiful creatures was absolutely, utterly correct. He belonged to them. He belonged with them.

He saw Charlene smile in response to his grin, and he took a moment to take in how she was presented. Both young women were naked, but they were also restrained, in ways that he had seen pictures of, but never in the flesh.

Charlene was restrained by a thick, black leather sleeve he thought was called an armbinder. It enclosed both her arms behind her back helplessly, and it was held from slipping by a harness of straps across her shoulders and around her breasts. Her hair was pulled back and tucked under some sort of head harness that framed her face and seemed to have snaps and buckles all around its lengths to have things attached to it. Things like gags or blindfolds or ornaments of some sort. She, like the men, wore a collar, but hers was of thick, black leather, and was clearly buckled tightly at the nape of her neck. She did however have the matching medallion dangling down from her throat. Another thick strap of leather formed a belt around her waist, and bore several thick metal rings all the way round it.

Musing on what her “uniform” meant, he turned his attention to the woman he had encountered in the hotel room, the blindfolded, helpless one who had insisted on being kissed by a total stranger. He wondered if she had actually known who he was, or if her surprise at his arrival and her open, courageous playfulness had been genuine. Something told him that it was a surprise to her, since she was now gazing at him as if eagerly meeting him at last for the first time. Maggie’s attire, such of it as it was, was the clearest statement of what passed for a uniform. She was bound in an armbinder and collar like Charlene, but there the similarities ended. Instead of the head harness, she wore a neat, frilly maid’s cap, made of black and white bits of silk satin and lace. Rather than the thick, heavy waist belt, she had a white satin apron tied in a big frilly bow at her back, with a front piece just large enough to cover her crotch, and most likely tickle her lightly with every step she took. Descending from her collar, besides the requisite bejeweled medallion, were two chains that supported the front of a small serving tray that was affixed to her just below her softly rounded breasts. He noticed that there were what seemed to be several neatly folded bits of fabric on the tray, and his mind immediately jumped to where that might lead.

None of them wore anything on their feet, and Jonah assumed it was some sort of house rule, perhaps to protect, and enjoy, the expensive rugs that seemed everywhere.

After having given her five subjects the chance to drink in their assessments of each other, Lady Suzanne took a step away from Jonah, and beckoned to the two men. “Boys. Help him to the floor, please.”

The two men shuffled silently forward, the chain links sliding noiselessly along the thick silk carpets, and they each took one of Jonah’s bound arms and eased him expertly to the floor on his stomach. He took note that they were smaller than him, but much more muscular and compact. He had no doubt at all that they were well strong enough to flip him around like a rag doll without even breaking a sweat.

He didn’t have time to muse on what was next, since immediately he felt his lady’s hands on his ankles, drawing them up toward his bound wrists. He was being hogtied, he concluded, and he was right. Quickly looping one last coil of rope between the cinches of his wrists and ankles, she finished his bindings completely, and neatly wrapped the rope ends around and around and tucked them in out of sight perfectly.

“Up onto the table, please.” He felt again the four strong shackled hands raise him up, and he watched the room spin around him as they whisked him across the space over toward the huge wooden buffet table. They positioned his hogtied body right in the center, filling up the big, empty space that had been left for him, and he smiled to himself that he had been turned into the centerpiece of the serving table. For a party?! Yes, he thought to himself, for a party. He had only met her staff members. Apparently, there were to be guests arriving as well. He sighed and awaited her pleasure.

Craning his head around, he saw Lady Suzanne swish by Maggie’s motionless form, and grab up the silk fabric from her serving tray. Moving toward him on the table, she shook one scarf loose and bunched it up into a ball with one hand as if she had done this a thousand times before, and he realized to himself that she probably had. “Open your mouth, pet.”

He did his best to give her his opened mouth, and she packed the silk fabric into him, all the way in until he felt he must look a bit like a squirrel with a mouthful of acorns. Before he could let his chin rest down again, she set down the remaining scarves, grabbed up a second one, and rolled it diagonally into a long blindfold. He giggled to himself at his mistaken conclusion, as she instead used the scarf over his mouth to complete his gag and prevent the packing from coming out, by intent or by accident. She tied the ends off at the back of his head, and her soft, firm fingers coaxed his head back down to rest on the silk satin table cloth beneath him.

She gazed deeply into his eyes, and he watched her blow him a sweet kiss as if to say goodbye for the moment. She picked up the last silk scarf, folded it diagonally again, and this time, to his surprised relief, did apply it over his eyes, easing him back into the darkness that he had experienced before, only this time with a completely opposite emotion. Before, when he had been hooded in the square, he wanted to die. Being blindfolded by his Lady for her pleasure, he felt pampered in a deep state of erotic, serenely impassioned bliss.

He felt her bend down to his ear one last time, and he heard her voice through the layers of silk that encased most of his head, “You have done so much better than I ever imagined you would. I am incredibly proud of you, my sweet pet. Enjoy yourself now. You have nothing more to do but let yourself be presented to my little assemblage. You have met my staff. You have passed every test with exemplary obedience. Let your dreams take flight about what lies ahead. There will be many things to talk of when I am ready to attend to you further.” She kissed him affectionately on the forehead, and he felt her move away to address her final necessary preparations.

As Lady Suzanne and her staff prepared to receive the guests for her intimate little celebration, Jonah was fully left to adjust his body to the strain of his intricate and stringent bondage combined with the exhaustion from his physical and emotional marathons of the day. He tried to concentrate on letting his mind process everything he had been through, but he finally faced the fact that he was just too drained in every way possible. All his other senses taken from him, he tried to analyze the faint, muffled noises and voices that managed to make their way through the layers of silk that encased his ears. Giving up on that too, at last, he simply collapsed against the network of loops and cinches that held him utterly immobile. He focused on his breathing, and let everything else drift into a woozy, dizzying haze of sensation.

Time passed. He had no idea how much. He had been vaguely aware of hands touching him. Touching him, investigating him, teasing him, caressing him. Whose? He did not know; he did not much care. There had been voices. There may have been music. He wasn’t sure if it was in the room or in his head. It was very soothing and melodious, not at all what one would imagine to be party music. He surmised there must not have been dancing. At least, not THAT kind of dancing. Sinking deeper and deeper into his isolated, exhausted daze, he finally drifted off into what under the circumstances would have been considered sleep.

As he drifted eventually back toward the light, Jonah became aware that his physical condition had altered dramatically. Still in relative darkness, he felt a scratchy, prickling sort of sensation over all of his skin. He stretched out in a full body yawn, and thought to himself, how can I be doing this? Am I not still tied up? He twisted his limbs around more consciously, and concluded that he had been untied, and probably moved. Slowly prying his eyes open, he discovered that he was not still blindfolded either. He had just been unwilling to open his eyes and face his new situation. Doing so at last, he assessed that he was still naked, totally devoid of ropes and scarves, and that he seemed to have been dumped in a huge, soft pile of what apparently was straw, or possibly hay, if there was a difference between them. He chuckled to himself that he felt compelled to make such a distinction after what he had been through. Hay or straw, he mused, which have I been dumped in?

He tried to prop himself up, but only managed to sink deeper into the pile of what he decided to call straw. Rolling and flailing about in the loose mountain of the stuff, he eventually succeeded in reaching a spot which was not so deep, and harder packed. He righted himself onto his feet and was able to stand.

Immediately, he realized that, although he could move, he was most certainly not free. Letting his hands investigate the thick, heavy chain that led from a mounted plate in one wall of his little stall area to up under his chin, he correctly diagnosed his condition as now wearing a very solid metal collar. He had enough range in the chain to reach every corner of his modest, straw-filled space, but he barely had enough slack to reach what appeared to be a hinged gate, let alone go through it.

He saw that his stall was illuminated by light which diffused in from someplace in the hall outside his prison, and he concluded that he was chained up in a horse stall in a barn. He laughed darkly to himself, and muttered that there seemed to be no end to the bizarre journey he had unwittingly begun. He saw that it seemed to be still dark out, so he felt it was the same day, or possibly very early the next morning. He sat back down in the pile of straw, and just focused on breathing.

Suddenly, his reverie was interrupted by a soft voice from across the hallway outside his gate. The voice was clearly a woman. It was vaguely familiar, and it seemed to be called his name. That is, if he was correct in remembering what his name actually was, he chuckled mirthlessly.

“Jonah? Jonah? Is that you? Are you awake yet? Jonah?”

Arising again, he approached the gate as far as the chain would allow, and he decided to play along with the new game. “Yes. I’m Jonah. I think. Who are you?”

The voice giggled, sighed, and responded, “It’s me. Charlene!”

It made sense. It sounded like Charlene, from what he remembered. “Hello. Where are you calling from?”

“I’m in the next stall from you. I guess you’re chained up to the wall like I am?”

“I’m chained up. You say you are as well?”

Charlene’s voice rose, clearly quite happy that she has him there to talk with. “Oh, I’m chained up every night for bed in here. I was tossing and turning, just hoping for a chance to hear your voice and make sure that you’re all right.”

Jonah paused a moment to digest what she had just admitted to him. “Would you mind if I asked you just exactly what is going on here?”

Charlene was clearly eager to tell him everything, but the tension in her voice indicated that she was under orders not to. “I really should wait and let Milady tell you what she wants to tell you. I will say that I sincerely had no idea that she wanted to bring you here. I really did meet you for the first time at the hotel, and missed you so much when we got separated during the run. When I got back to the room and found Maggie had been tied up there by Milady, I guess to shock you or something, I right away got a call from one of the groomsmen - the naked men you saw in the lounge - that Milady had rescued you from the crowd and that I should untie Maggie, gather up your belongings and come back here to the ranch. When we got here, we were put to work on party prep, and then I saw you in the lounge all tied up. You were brought out here fast asleep by the groomsmen who untied you before they went to bed.” She paused a moment, then blurted out, “It’s really nice to have somebody out here for company. Especially you, ‘cause I think you really are magnificent.”

He could feel the heat of her blushing cheeks as she felt so nakedly exposed in admitting how much she was attracted to him. He pondered her story, then finally focused on the biggest shock to him of all. “Are you telling me you live out here? In a horse stable? All by yourself? And, you sleep here in a pile of straw every night?”

“There are a few temporary pony trainees every so often, but there hasn’t been anyone at all yet this summer.” As an afterthought, “Of course, the groomsmen sleep in the staff room on the other side of the stable, but I rarely see them. They’re locked in their cages every night as soon as I get bedded down.”

“They sleep in cages every night?”

“They do. Their doors are on an auto-timer which open up in the morning in time for them to get out and clean up before getting to work on their daily chores. I usually have to wait until mid-morning to be let out for a run, then a rubdown before I get to eat brunch with Maggie in the kitchen.”

Jonah was utterly baffled at the things she was telling him. Was she saying that she was living the life of a horse? It made no sense at all. His brain was working so hard, she could feel the tension over in her stall, so she tried to calm him down. “It’s late, and I’m sure Milady will wake you early and tell you whatever she wants you to know. She’s an amazingly kind, loving and generous person. I’m sure you can tell yourself that you’re right to trust her completely. But for now, I’m just glad you’re okay. You really should try and get a bit more sleep. You had a big day yesterday, and I would imagine there’ll be more coming. You’ll want to be as rested as possible.”

He contemplated his little stall and its mountain of straw, and suddenly realized something. “Um, I don’t mean to be indelicate, but . . . what about if we need to . . . go to the bathroom?”

She couldn’t resists a low giggle. “Oh, I have permanent plumbing in my stall. They’ve put you in one of the training stalls for those who need to learn about self-control and proper discipline of bodily functions. I’m sure you’ll be moved to something . . .” She cut herself off in a panic as she realized she was about to give away something that would get her into a lot of serious trouble. “Please. Just lie down and go back to sleep. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

He found himself straining hard against the chain in a sudden desperate need to look over the gate and get a glimpse of the strange, beautiful woman who was telling him all these impossibly odd things. She heard the links of his chain clinking with his efforts, and she spoke more quietly, sincerely needing to settle him down as if he were a skittish stallion. “Shhh now. Shhhhh. There’s nothing to be done now except rest. If you like, I’ll sing for you so you can go to sleep. Would you like that?”

Jonah didn’t say anything in response. He merely surrendered to the situation, and shuffled back to make a soft pile of straw to sleep in. She felt him relaxing, and she began to sing a soft, wordless melody that soothed them both into a shared, deep reverie. After a few moments, her voice tailed off into the darkness, and all that was heard was the sound of the two of them breathing softly in slumber.

* * * *

Jonah was awakened by the sound of footsteps approaching in the dirt floor of the stable passageway. There was sunlight peeking in from a small window high above him, and it seemed that it was the soft light of early summer morning, so he figured he hadn’t really slept for that long. The latch sprang on his gate, and Lady Suzanne, dressed in a radiant blue silk satin blouse, very tight brown leather riding pants, high leather riding boots and a black velvet equestrian helmet, entered with a jaunty air. She set down a sumptuously padded three legged milking stool in front of him, and perched herself on it with an attitude of supreme comfort and ease. “Sleep well, I trust?” she offered politely.

Jonah shifted around and found a comfortable position kneeling, sitting on his heels in the straw. He smiled at her in spite of his million questions and managed, “I think so. It feels like it’s still pretty early, though.” She gave him a frown that was more of a gentle, chiding reminder than genuine displeasure. He got the message and added quickly, “Milady! Uh, thank you so much for asking.”

She smiled, satisfied, then launched into her story. “I’m sure you have a parade of questions you’re just dying to ask me. I’d like you to hold them for a moment while I tell you a few things that may address most of them anyway.” She cast a glance through the open gate at some noise behind her, and then turned back to Jonah. “They’ll be a while getting Wind Spirit brushed out and into her tack, so we might as well pass the time in a bit of pleasant conversation. Don’t you think?” she added almost gaily.

Jonah was quick to respond in his eagerness. “Yes, Milady. That would be nice.”

She grinned and arranged the neat ponytail of her long, golden tresses to fall across her shoulder and down across the blue satin covering her breasts. She saw him relax at her attention, and she settled him down further with the slightest hint of a kiss pursing on her ruby-coloured lips.

“Fine then. I won’t bore you with a lot of utterly unimportant back story. Let’s just describe what is, and let you digest it as you may need. I work in the city because I enjoy the chance to meet new people and travel about quietly in search of new . . . opportunities. I most certainly do not need the money. I very quietly operate what is known in the right circles as a pony ranch. Friends and associates enjoy these facilities by our mutual convenience to act out their desires to live life as a pony girl or boy, or the desire to train, run and own someone who wants to be one. Occasionally, I accept a willing candidate for comprehensive training in becoming a pony, and a significant fee is arranged for them to take up residence in the stables here for such time as may be required to achieve the desired attitude and skill levels to be provided at auction to be sold.”

Jonah felt a cold chill pass down his spine, and she sighed sweetly to calm him. “Please understand, this is absolutely done with the subject’s total consent. It is a trusting bond of trainer and candidate. There are people in this world, I assure you, who find this sort of thing overwhelmingly fulfilling and it brings them deep joy and profound satisfaction. On occasion, I find myself drawn to a particular soul, and end up incorporating them directly into my own entourage, and they find themselves a permanent home here with me. Young Charlene is one of those people. She lives her life as a pony; she lives quite contentedly in her cozy stall, and is utterly owned, cared for and protected by me. She has taken the name, as I mentioned, of Wind Spirit, and she only ever leaves the property upon my instruction to participate in events of my choosing. Knowing how much she loves to run and how comfortable she is with being naked in front of anyone who happens to be here, I arranged for her to volunteer with the Sun Tanners run and to be one of the nude participants. As a reward for being such a skilled and obedient little pony for me.”

Jonah opened his lips to begin to respond, but she held a finger to her own lips as a signal for him to wait. “Let me say now that Chris is not involved in any of this. His uncle really did pass from cancer, and he really did want to run in his memory. He actually did break his ankle, and I . . . well, as I mentioned, I am always ready to seize a new . . . opportunity. From our little flirty dalliances, I had a deep suspicion that you would be interested, so I gave you the chance to discover . . . what you are in the process of discovering. It’s very clear to me that you’re having a very powerful and fulfilling awakening, but it’s not for me to do anything except provide the experience and let you embrace it.”

He found himself bowing his head slightly, and mumbled, “Thank you, Milady.” He trembled a bit in surprise at how quickly he could blurt out such heartfelt gratitude for the incredibly bizarre events of the past twenty-four hours, and then he closed his eyes to let her continue.

“You’re very, very welcome, my pet. You have been such a sweet, little boy about everything. I can barely recall a single thing I can use as an excuse for a bit of punishment training, you’ve been such a darling. Oh well, perhaps there’s the rest of the day still ahead . . .” He looked up nervously again, and she smiled coyly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll enjoy being disciplined just as much as the rest of it. I really do have a very sensitive touch for exactly the right amount of . . . necessary reinforcement.”

More sounds drifted in from the passage, and she glanced to check on things. “Hmm. Not quite ready yet. So, then. Maggie is here as my maid, cook and general servant. Raymond and Marcus, you met, do the necessary manly chores and groom the ponies as part of their own training. We are a small family at the moment,” she added wistfully.

“Does everybody have to be naked all the time?” he blurted out, then added quickly, “Milady.”

“During the warm summer months, all staff and ponies, yes. Utterly nude, except for any required uniform or tack. During springtime and autumn, I switch everyone to silks and latex as stimulation and reward, or burlap for training. In winter, I’ve designed some very lovely bodysuits made of thick leather with insulation and smooth satin linings. You’d be surprised how warm a pony can stay in one of those as they prance and frolic in the snowy pastures, even on a blustery morning in the deepest of winter. Everything is custom made and fits everybody perfectly.”

“It seems as though you think of everything, Milady,” he mused.

She beamed at him with pride. “I do my best. Thank you, pet.” She checked the hall again and decided it was time to proceed. “Ah. They seem to be all set for us.” She stood up and beckoned for him to rise as well. “Stand up and let me unchain you.”

He rose quickly, eager to find out more about what was happening to and around him. He took a step toward her, and she grabbed his shoulders with her strong, firm, velvet gloved hands and wheeled him around facing away from her. Quickly, she unfurled the silk scarf from around her neck, caught up his dangling wrists, and securely bound his hands together behind his back. He acquiesced obediently, and let out a soft sigh of resignation. Satisfied that he was sufficiently bound, she produced a key from the pocket of her riding pants, unlocked the collar from his neck and dropped it into the straw with a dull thud.

Taking hold of his upper arm, she led him out into the passageway, and he finally got a chance to see that he was in a very well kept and modern stable with enough stalls for at least a dozen individual occupants. The floor was well-manicured earth, and the walls constructed of poured concrete and wooden slats, rails and gates. There was an odour of faint perfume, sweeter and more flowery than the provocative scent worn by Lady Suzanne, and the whole setting was oddly comforting to him. He looked around to catch a glimpse of Charlene, or “Wind Spirit”, but he and his Lady seemed to be at the moment alone.

Lady Suzanne led him all the way out into the bright, morning sunlight, and he felt the air just a bit cool on his naked skin, confirming the thought that it was still very early in the morning, probably just after summer sunrise. She guided him over to stand next to the gate of a small paddock, and she took up a rope that was draped over the fencing. Looping it around his neck loosely, she affixed the other end with a simple hitch across the rail, and he got the immediate intended feeling of being a horse tied up to wait for his rider. Lady Suzanne patted her gloved hand against his naked bottom pleasantly, and then called out to her staff. “My boys, we are ready for you.”

By response to this, one of the groomsmen, still naked, of course, emerged from the stable with Charlene, clearly now Wind Spirit, in tow, high stepping behind him on a leather lead about a dozen feet in length. His hands were shackled together, and he was wearing his collar, but his feet were unencumbered to enable him to work the pony girl without difficulty.

Jonah was allowed to study her as she was led past his curious gaze, then she was led through the gate into the paddock. The groomsman closed the gate behind them, and Lady Suzanne beckoned for Jonah to turn and watch them in action.

To become her pony self, Charlene was decked out in a quite elaborate and custom fitted tack set. A complex web of leather straps formed a harness around her torso, accentuating her lovely breasts, and providing all sorts of metal rings for potential adornments. There was a thick leather corset around her waist that served to draw in her figure and protect her skin from possible chafing from the heavy leather ringed belt that had been strapped on over it. Her arms were again held fast behind her back with a very strictly tightened armbinder, and he noticed that she had been secured inside the sleeve with outer straps encircling her wrists, elbows and upper arms. He noted that even a double jointed gymnast would not be getting out of such an arrangement without help.

She was wearing another leather collar, and the “S” medallion indicating she was owned by Lady Suzanne had been replaced by one displaying her own name: Wind Spirit. An even more elaborate head harness gripped her entire skull, and it was fully geared up with an attached bit gag clamped firmly between her lips and teeth, and heavy leather blinders removing all but a very narrow view directly in front of her. He noticed the collar was thicker than the other one as well, and it seemed to hold her head straight and with a slightly elevated chin.

Every bit of the leather ensemble fit her like a glove, and had been dyed a very feminine lavender which contrasted nicely with her slightly tanned skin tone and soft brown hair. On the top of her head harness, lavender plumes stuck out like a lovely crown, and he imagined she was quite proud of the way she looked. From the way she raised her knees up to slightly above her waist with every step, she really did give even a casual observer the notion that she was a very proud, but highly trained pony.

The groomsman moved to the center of the paddock, and, letting the lead out to its full length of about twenty feet, began walking her around him as the center of her circling path. It was then that Jonah noticed two other details he had missed on his first view of her attire. Her feet seemed to be wearing thick leather boots, but then he realized that they looked eerily like actual horse’s hooves. Apparently they had been constructed in such a way that she was walking on her toes with her heels highly elevated by some reinforced metal sole that did not require any sort of heel support. The lower part of her legs really looked like a pony, and she was clearly standing almost six inches taller than when he ran with her in bare feet the day before. He marveled at how effortlessly she pranced in the strange footwear, and determined that these things he thought of as hoof-shoes were very masterfully designed and constructed. He was also reminded of how gloriously strong, slim and muscular her legs were, and he felt himself flush a bit at how appealing she was to him all decked out like this.

The other thing he noticed was that she seemed to be sporting a very long tail, leading down behind her from between her legs, an exact match in colour and texture to the “mane” streaming out from her head harness and down her muscular back. He mused on this until she came round enough to let him study her backside with more attention, and he shivered with oddly warm interest that it seemed to be attached to something protruding from her anus. Fascinated with this discovery, he watched her tail swish and swirl with the motion of her gait, and tried to imagine all the sensations it was giving her. It was packing her bottom solidly enough to remain without attachment, and the waves of hair tickled and brushed against her naked thighs down to the backs of the knees, and occasionally flipped up and caressed across her athletic buttocks. Was it a breeze, or did she somehow have a mastery over the thing that was invading her rear passage so unavoidably? He was increasingly curious to find out this, and so, so much more.

As she came half round again, he discovered she had something clipped to each of her nipples, and he thought perhaps they were bells, but he didn’t hear anything tinkling, so he decided they must be some sort of ornamentation or discipline tool.

After giving her pet enough time to make his observations and drink in the pony’s beauty and artistry, Lady Suzanne continued her monologue. “I present to you my pride and joy, the darling Wind Spirit. Perfectly trained, strong, agile, fast and yet utter docile and compliant. Isn’t she a marvelous sight?”

Jonah felt his cock rise at her words, and dared not look down to confirm it. “Yes, Milady. She is all that, and more.”

Smiling at his response, she continued. “It’s such a pity that she’s so sad these days.”

He couldn’t resist looking at her, with a combination of surprise and sympathetic sadness and concern. She answered him before he could speak. “She’s pining.” She paused for full effect. “For a mate. She’s so desperately heartsick and lonely.”

Jonah shot another look at her, and had to bite his lip hard to resist the response that nearly jumped out of his mouth without asking. She gave him a sober, baleful gaze and, despite the knowledge that he was being utterly manipulated, he felt a deep, profound need to tear himself from the rail and jump into the paddock to run and give the poor, suffering spirit a passionate, deeply loving embrace. He concentrated on exhaling powerfully, and stamped his foot in frustration, and then turned a bright shade of red as he realized that he had just acted and sounded even more like a horse than ever.

Lady Suzanne looked into his eyes, and she offered him her kindest, most knowing smile, but refused to say a word for a long, suspenseful moment. It was almost as if she and her pet were in some sort of standoff, neither willing to offer the other a way to save face or claim victory. Jonah tried to slow and quiet his breathing, utterly mortified about the storm of confusion raging inside him over what to do, what to feel and how to imagine who or what he might possibly be becoming.

How did this woman know him so well? How was she able to lead him to the water, and get him to drink deep soul-stirring draughts and make him believe that it was all his own idea, that he was actually silently begging her to treat him this way? He didn’t want to, couldn’t want to do it, be it. But he did want it. He wanted it more than he had wanted anything ever before. Would she let him? It was now his desire, but it was not his to decide. Why wouldn’t she speak? What does she want from him?

At last, she broke the tension with a soft chuckle under her breath, and then she turned and called out to the far side of the stable. “Hitch her up now!”

The second groomsman immediately appeared from around the corner, chained exactly as the other one, but dragging behind him a small two-wheeled cart of some kind, all gleaming metal and velvet padded seat, with two long poles sticking out in front. He quickly made his way to stop in front of Lady Suzanne, at the same time as the first groomsman brought Wind Spirit back around to converge together.

Working in expert synchronicity, the two men backed Wind Spirit into between the long poles, and fastened the ends to big rings on either side of her waist belt. One of them removed her lead from her neck, and replaced it with two leather reins, one on either side of her head harness beneath her blinders. The other offered a hand to Lady Suzanne and helped her step up inside the cart and settle comfortably down on the elegant bench seat.

Lady Suzanne gave Jonah one parting glance and flick of a smile, took the reins from the her boy, then she produced a riding crop from underneath the seat and gave Wind Spirit a gentle tap on her bare bottom. The pony girl immediately began moving off with an easy gait, barely straining at all in hauling Milady on the cart behind her.

As the two men each grabbed Jonah’s upper arms and held him fast between them, Lady Suzanne called back to them without turning around. “We’re going for a bit of a spin around the property. Have him done up in full tack by the time we get back!”

She applied the whip harder to her pony’s bottom, and the girl dug in her hooves and they tore off down the lane toward the trees on the far side of a green, well-manicured pasture.

Jonah swallowed hard as he watched them disappear, and then felt them transfer their grip to one man holding him and the other uncoiling his rope lead from the rail. Without so much as a word or a glance, the first groomsman moved back toward the stable, and Jonah had no choice but to follow. Even though his legs were longer, he found that he had to trot a bit, tied as he was, to keep up with the men as they led and propelled him to meet the next phase of his fate.

Thirty humiliating minutes later, Jonah, now a fully tacked pony himself, was led slowly back out of the stable, and brought back toward the paddock gate. He was striding a bit awkwardly as he figured out how to walk with the strange hoof-boots locked and strapped over his feet, and he felt odd thinking that he was now, with the thick platform soles and him walking on his toes, effectively almost seven feet tall in the things.

Thinking he was going to be returned to his spot at the rail, he tried to stop, but the groomsman with his lead opened the gate and dragged him into the paddock for his own exercise. They moved to the center of the dirt-surface enclosure, and his trainer gave him only about four feet of lead to make very small circles around him.

Letting him walk slowly at first, his trainer allowed him to get used to the boots and the various leather harness straps that adorned and confined his naked torso. At least he had not been corseted, he thought. And the waist belt was not so massive, so he figured he would not be hooked up to the cart. At least not right away. It was an odd feeling to be walked in a circle by a lead attached to his neck, and it took him a few rounds to find a way for the thick, high collar which kept his chin up and his head straight from applying too much pressure to his throat, triggering his choke reflex.

Walking with his arms useless behind him in the armbinder didn’t help much either. It was quite a procedure getting the sleeve onto him, with straps underneath it around his wrists and elbows, then the sleeve laced up tight, then outer straps to keep his hands completely trapped at the base of the thing. A small inner hook had been fastened to a ring on his belt, ensuring that he couldn’t even wave his arms side to side for any sort of balancing maneuver.

He had a bit gag in his mouth, and blinders snapped on the head harness that gripped his face like a vice. It really was disorienting to not be able to see anything but a four foot path directly in front. It was also hard to look down at the ground because of the collar, so he was grateful that the trainer wasn’t working him too fast too quickly.

The biggest humiliation of course was when they gave him his tail. His question about the thing was all too easily answered when he watched, all shivering, as they produced the long, thick hair tail dangling lifelessly attached to a plastic cone that looked like a pine tree, about four inches long and over two full inches at its base. It pinched at the end, then flared out again, so that, after they lubed it up, bent him over and eased it into his uncooperative rear hole, his sphincter closed around the pinched part and it was quite solidly anchored up into his bottom. They straightened him up, and he felt the silky waves of his new tail dangle oddly down the inside of his legs, and he felt uncomfortable, humiliated, and a lot more than ridiculous. But now, as he stepped along, he began to be accustomed to the insistent pressure in his abdomen, and tried to focus on the way the tail tickled his legs and to pretend that it was actually something pleasurable.

After about five minutes of small circles, the trainer began poking his knees with a riding crop, indicating that he should begin to step higher, raising his knees up to his navel with every step, as he had seen Wind Spirit do earlier. He nearly toppled over when he first realized how high he needed to go, but after a couple of circles, found his balance point and was able to do it with a touch more grace and, he chuckled at the thought, dignity. What in the world is dignified about being pranced around a ring in the middle of nowhere, stark naked, bound helplessly, with a nonsensical hank of horsehair protruding out his ass? He was doing it, but he really didn’t understand why.

Slowly, the trainer gave him more lead, and his circles widened. At last, he was almost trotting around in a full twenty foot radius circle, feeling like, having mastered this insanity, he could probably do just about anything. He found himself stepping with more spirit, elevating his chest out with more strength and confidence, and, not labouring at all, his breath was coming slow, deep and steady, just as when he ran in “human form”. The other male, he still didn’t know which was which, called out, and they all noticed Wind Spirit being driven hard, dashing full of the energy that had led to her name, kicking up dust on the final leg of the path back toward them at the paddock.

His trainer decided to make him pick up his pace to show off how much he had been taught while Milady was away on her ride. He found himself circling the naked man, running hard in his full character as a pony, and for a brief flash, actually felt himself channeling the spirit of some magnificent stallion, racing free across the wide plains, the wind whipping at his mane as his muscles strained in ecstatic motion. He became so engrossed that he didn’t even register the cart’s return, nor Lady Suzanne stepping out of the cart to come to the rail and watch him run. On and on he ran, and it was several minutes of full out racing before a shrill whistle pierced the warm summer air, and his trainer reined him in and gathered up the slack on the lead to stop him.

Milady’s voice rang out, clear and commanding. “Bring him to me.”

The male led Jonah, who finally realized he was gasping to catch his breath as he came down from the pumping endorphins, but he held his chest up and his head high as he was brought before Milady to be evaluated.

She gazed at his heaving, harnessed chest, and got an idea. Chewing on it for a long, suspenseful pause, she finally came to a decision and allowed a beaming grin of pure joyful pride break fully across her magnificent face. She took off her riding helmet, shook her golden hair free, and it sparkled like a halo about her face and shoulders as she prepared to speak.

“As I felt yesterday, as I see today. Simply magnificent. An awesome beast indeed. You will be trained and cultivated, and you will be something to behold, my pet. It is a legacy to aspire to, a destiny to embrace and fulfill the challenge of: I name you ‘Northern Dancer’.”

He felt rather than heard Charlene, Wind Spirit, let out a joyful whinny of shock and unbridled enthusiasm. The groomsmen, taking their part in the success, stood taller, and silently awaited the commands that would be quickly forthcoming.

Lady Suzanne gazed for another long moment at his glistening flesh, and then she was finished. “Free them from their tack. Leave only the boots, armbinders and gags. Let them free in the lower pasture. They’ve earned a chance to frolic together and see how well they truly care about each other.”

Without another word, she spun on the heel of her boot and strode off toward the main house. His groomsman led him back toward the stable, and the other began unhooking Wind Spirit, and she continued to whinny and softly stamp her feet, impatiently eager to meet the new stallion. The man carried on about his work, but allowed a hint of a smile to creep across his face, happy that the young filly had finally found a potential companion.

Moments later, the two ponies, Dancer and Spirit, stepping happily in their hooves, were being led, naked save for their armbinders and the bit gags preventing any sort of intelligible human communication, to the gate of the vast green expanse of the enclosed pasture. The gate was opened, their leads were unhooked, and they each got a sharp slap on the backside to entice them through the opening and into their play space. The gate was fastened behind them, and the two males watched the ponies gallop off wildly across the open field to enjoy their frolic. The grooms wanted to stay and watch, but they wistfully tore themselves away and ambled slowly back toward the house for their next duties.

Charlene, fully committed to her pony identity, took off like the wind, truly happy to be able to just run and run and run, the soft grass beneath her hooves, the gentle summer breeze in her hair and across the full expanse of her nude skin. She was free and she loved the pure exhilaration of the ecstatic exertion.

After a few half-hearted gallops in totally random directions, Dancer pulled up and watched the filly racing around, and his heart simply melted. She was so utterly, joyfully beautiful. So happy, so real. He didn’t understand why, but he knew that he wanted to touch her, to possess her, to join with her. To experience even just a taste of what she was obviously so unabashedly celebrating. Throwing the last bits of his resistance and confusion to the blue, clear country air, he reared his head back, let out a glorious laugh from deep down in his belly, and took off after her.

On and on, they ran. Side by side, him chasing her, her chasing him, they frolicked and they spun out the joy of their play. Finally winded, she stopped to catch her breath, and he came up in front of her, and began nuzzling his face against her cheek. As best they could, they pressed themselves into each other, and wiggled and nuzzled at every bit of exposed skin, seeking out all possible opportunities for intimacies, pleasures and sensations.

Finally regaining her breath, Spirit dashed off again, this time hell-bent directly for some spot that she had picked out in her mind. Sensing something new and even more special was afoot, Dancer charged off after her in hot pursuit. They dashed, laughing and gasping across the grassy field toward the far edge that was lined with a variety of very shady, leafy trees, yet still inside the fence line.

When they arrived at the spot she had chosen, she slowed and trotted her way straight to a small construction in a beautiful, isolated, totally private copse of trees. It was a thick rail perhaps six feet in total length, padded with weathered leather, just about waist high, and supported by very sturdy wooden brackets on both ends. Smiling as best she could with the bit in her mouth, she turned to face the rail and pressed her hips right into it. Bending herself over, she laid down over the rail, and began wiggling her beautiful naked backside directly at him. The message was utter primal lust, and there was absolutely no mistaking what he was being instructed to do.

He waited a moment, frozen not in doubt, but in amazement. She was so utterly needing him, wanting him. She was so astonishingly gorgeous, draped there naked, offering herself for him to take her. At last, having burned the image of her beauty into his memory forever, he moved toward her. Laughing to himself about how he would manage to join with her with his arms held uselessly behind his back, he looked at his straining cock jutting out so insistently, and he knew things would go fine.

He felt himself dig into between the globes of her waiting bottom, the tip of his cock felt for and slid easily to the edge of her dripping, grasping vagina, and in a second he was inside her. Together, they wiggled and bucked as she felt him thrust into her. They danced, they fought, they wrestled with their aching, burning need. Their bodies glistened against the sunlight in the shelter of the small clearing, free of the breeze that had stoked the fires of their lust as it had caressed their nude flesh across the open pasture. They moaned and whinnied. They laughed, and they wept. Finally, she exploded in a cataclysm of convulsions, and he bucked harder, letting the full fury of his suppressed and overstimulated passions build to the volcanic eruption that he knew was inside him. In one great roar of delight, he came. Pumping and pumping, he let every drop of the storm of his lust plow deep into her, filling her with his power, with his seed, with his profound, aching love.

When it was over, he bent down over her sweaty back, pressing her leather-sheathed arms between them, and they collapsed against the firm support of the rail. They lay there and just breathed, allowing their breaths to become as one, inhaling and exhaling together in perfect, ecstatic peace and release.

At last, he stood up and slipped himself out of her, and she slowly levered herself around and managed to join him upright. They nuzzled each other blissfully, and gazed deep into each other’s eyes, united.

They walked slowly back out of the trees, across the sunny, breezy afternoon, and eventually made their way back to the pasture gate, leaning on each other’s bound bodies in exhausted, joyful union. When they reached the gate, it was Maggie, in her maid’s apron and hat, but otherwise unbound and naked, who was there to receive them.

“Well,” she announced gaily. “I guess I don’t have to ask how well you two got along.” She laughed, delighted for their happiness, and wagged her finger at Dancer. “I knew you were a sweetheart. Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I?” Exhausted, he nodded weakly at her in confirmation, and she laughed again. “Good for you. Good for both of you.”

The maid opened the gate, and the ponies came through. Maggie closed the gate again, and, inserting herself in between them, she put a free arm around each of their naked shoulders, both wanting to share a tiny piece of their joy, and to let them lean a bit on her body as the three of them made their way back toward the main house.

Hours later, they were all having a picnic out behind the house. Lady Suzanne of course held court, but the two groomsmen, now he knew them as Raymond the taller one and Marcus the one with the better tan, Maggie, and Charlene and Jonah were all out of their roles, simply naked save for a neck shackle each with a long lead chain giving them each a hundred feet of mobility to enjoy the afternoon as a family. They all ate their fill, they chatted about anything and nothing. They bonded all together, and welcomed Jonah into their band without reservation.

When they were done, Lady Suzanne excused herself and requested that the two boys present themselves to her in an hour, after she had had a chance to take a nice, relaxing tub in her private chambers. They all exchanged knowing looks and a friendly, lustful laugh together. She told Maggie to get the two ponies properly showered and groomed, and gave her another wink as permission to let any passions that may arise be followed through without fear of disapproval. Maggie beamed as she was presented the key to unlock all their collars, and they all watched Milady stride off to her own private business.

Maggie led Charlene and Jonah to the showers, and before they could get all properly soaped up, they were joined by the two men, who confessed that they had nothing to do for an hour, and thought the best thing to do was get themselves clean. Jonah giggled to himself that what was obviously about to transpire would be the capper to the most bizarre, yet undeniably happiest thirty-six hours of his entire life. Thinking back afterward, he concluded that he had not been wrong in this expectation.

After their showers and accompanying combinations of passionate connections, Jonah and Charlene were rewarded by Maggie with the chance to sit together in the main lounge in soft, satin robes and get to know each other in a more conversational aspect.

They found that they shared many common interests besides running about naked in a field dressed as ponies, and what they disagreed about, they did so in a most agreeable fashion. It seemed they were meant for each other, and there was nothing that could stand between their chance at a blissful union in all ways.

After several hours, they noticed that it had started to darken, and Lady Suzanne reappeared, relaxing in her own silken robe, glowing with the joy of having had her boys most properly attend to her. She presented Jonah with a bag that contained the bundle of his clothes, and smiled ruefully at the lovers as they stood to await her pleasure.

She spoke wistfully, yet not losing a shred of her commanding presence. “The day has gone better than even I in my wildest dreams could have anticipated. What remains is for everyone to put their hearts and their passions to one side for a moment, and take a cool, objective look at what lies ahead. As distasteful as that may seem just at this moment, it is there to be done, and it will be done. Jonah, you have opened yourself to things about yourself that you now know and have embraced with much gusto and respect. Charlene, you have discovered that there is hope for your barren heart at last, and that pining away into nothing serves no one, least of all yourself. For now, my order is that Jonah be taken back to his home in the city, where he can revisit his worldly life and decide just how much or how little of these new horizons that he truly, ultimately wants to pursue. Charlene, you must meditate on your capacity to truly trust that you will be provided for, in all ways, if you can manage not to judge or to grow fearful of losing what can never be lost. I, from my perfectly positioned place of objective truth, will monitor your meditations, both of you, and we will see what we will see. Is that fully understood and accepted?”

Jonah, unable to resist clutching Charlene’s trembling fingers, dropped his eyes in respect for Milady’s wisdom, and slowly nodded his agreement. Charlene sniffed back a sudden urge to burst into tears, then recovered herself and knew that it was truth. She looked at Jonah, she squeezed his hand reassuringly, then, clear-eyed, looked up at her owner and smiled her consent.

“Good. Then that’s that.” She was about to continue, when her attention was distracted by the shadow thrown by some sort of flashing lights coming through the windows at the front of the house. Rising in annoyance, she moved to see what was going on. “What the devil is this about now?”

Before she could get to the side of the room, a bustling of noise came from the entranceway, and the police officer from the previous morning strode in, full of professional purpose and an edge of personal annoyance. She strode right past Lady Suzanne, and moved quickly to re-apprehend her escaped detainee.

“There you are. You have no idea the trouble you’ve caused me, as I’ve tried to sort all this out for you. What did I tell you? Co-operate. All you had to do was stand there and co-operate, and we could avoid making things worse than a little bit of confusion and embarrassment. So what did you do? Run away. Run all the way out here and get yourself involved in goodness knows what sort of shady arrangements.”

She grabbed his wrists and, with real handcuffs this time, locked his hands together behind his back.

Lady Suzanne, nonplussed, move to intercede. “On what basis are you arresting my houseguest?”

The officer, not intimidated in the least, shot back, “On the basis, whoever you are, of evading arrest and unlawful flight. Oh, I checked out his story all right. Turns out every last thing was on the up and up. Ten minutes patience and I would’ve taken him back to the hotel myself and sent him on his way. Now, I’ve got an open case of him running away from me, and wasting my whole weekend tracking him down. My captain is loaded for bear and he won’t settle for anything less than me bringing full charges against this silly naked fool.” She grabbed Jonah by the arm, and scolded him, “You could get actually jail time for this, you idiot.”

Lady Suzanne, resigned to the idea that she would have to fight this another way, relented. She calmly stepped forward looking to negotiate terms. “Well, if you must, you must. I certainly can’t stand in your way. May I ask you one small favour as you take him away?” The officer, sensing the cooperation of all, softened and listened. “I suppose so, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Lady Suzanne move closer to Jonah’s restrained figure. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. It’s just that . . . well, this silly boy arrived here with that hood on, and he really has no idea where my home is. Would you mind if I blindfolded him as you took him away, so he can’t find his way back here to annoy me any further?”

Jonah and Charlene blanched at the change in Milady’s tone. The officer nodded quickly, and the Lady produced a satin scarf and smoothly knotted it tightly around Jonah’s shocked eyes. He was suddenly right back where he started, and now nothing made any sense all over again. Lady Suzanne produced something else from the bag of his belongings, and moved around in front of him. She spoke to the officer, who oddly complied with her directions without comment.

“Could you just hold up the front of his robe for one second. I have just one more thing to do before you take him away.” Jonah felt her hands doing something to his genitals, and he froze in complete confusion as she finished and let his robe drape back over his hips again. He felt some sort of odd weight down there but he hadn’t the slightest idea what had just happened to him.

“All done. Here are his clothes. If you’ll see that they are properly processed along with him, please.” The officer took the bag of clothes and, without further comment, escorted her prisoner out of the room, and was gone. Lady Suzanne retreated to her private chambers with a look of pure annoyance, and Charlene was left standing there alone, utterly shocked and heartbroken.

Jonah felt himself being escorted out to the waiting police cruiser, and was stuffed into the back seat and ferried back into the city. He heard the muted noises of the police radio from the front seat through the folds of the scarf around his head, but he was too shocked and scared to pay it any attention. They rode for an hour or so without interacting in any way, and at long last, the car pulled up to a stop, and he heard the officer get out.

Opening his door, she hauled him out, stood him on his bare feet on the cold, evening concrete of a sidewalk, and she jammed the handle of his bag into his nervous, twitching fingers. “Here. This is yours. You carry it.” She was still completely angry with him.

Dragging him along beside her, she hauled him into a building, through a lobby, and into an elevator. They rode up several floors, and then moved down a carpeted hallway and then stopped. The officer rustled around a bit, then removed his blindfold and stuffed it in his bag.

He was shocked again to find himself staring at his own front door in his own apartment building. As he registered this revelation, he felt the officer gruffly removing the restraints on his wrists. She tucked the cuffs away in her service belt, and suddenly smiled broadly at him and snapped her fingers in his face as if to wake him up.

“Hey, bozo! You’re home! Time to snap out of it and let me know you’re alive in there!”

Finding words at last, Jonah still didn’t have much to say. “What the . . . ?” was all he was able to manage.

The officer poked him in the arm affectionately, and laughed. “All right. All right. You’ve been through so much and been such a good sport about it, you deserve an explanation at last. Suzie and I go way back. Junior high school someplace we’d both love to forget. Oh, I’m a real police office, but I also do special custom work as an outfitter. I make all Suzie’s custom leather, latex and satin gear and play toys. Some metal work, too, if it’s not too involved. It’s a safe bet you’ve been wearing more than just my handcuffs this weekend, my boy. Hope they delivered for you. Frankly, I do good work and I can’t say anyone’s ever complained yet. Of course, if you’re bound and gagged with my stuff, it’s hard for me to hear anything you have to say, but that’s another story. Anyway, your keys should be in the bag somewhere, and she told me to tell you there’s a little something extra as a little token of her sense of fun. Enjoy!” She poked him again, then turned to go. “Oh well, as they say, duty calls!”

She moved on down the hallway, her laughter echoing from one end to the other as she disappeared into the elevator and was gone.

Jonah stood for a moment, unable to decide whether to laugh, cry, melt, scream or just kick the door down without bothering to find the key. At last, he elected the path of reason, fished out his key chain and went inside.

He found Suzie’s package right away, and moved instinctively over toward his living room window as he opened it. There was a letter, and a stainless steel collar bearing one of her signature “S” jeweled medallions dangling from it. He examined the collar and found that it had a spring latch internally so that, if someone put it on, it would need some sort of special tool to get it off again, as well as a very deft, practiced touch. He read the letter.

“Dear pet,

Just a little gift for you to use as a prop for your meditations on how you want to live the rest of your life. Whatever you decide, know that I love you and respect you more than you could possibly know for your strength, your open heart, and your untarnished spirit. From my side, there will always be a stall open next to my sweet Wind Spirit, if you find yourself so inclined to occupy it. If not, then bless you on your journey with all sweetness and joy. If my Northern Dancer wants to join me and my heart’s family, then he need just lock on this collar and wait for my pleasure.

You will have discovered that I have placed a lightweight but highly effective chastity device upon your private parts. This is to prevent you from distracting yourself with any unwanted stimulations while you are engaged in the contemplation of your choices. If, after the passing of thirty days, I have not found you choosing to place the collar upon your neck, I will forward you the key to unlock yourself from the genital device and you will be free. You may keep both the device and the collar as mementos of your adventure, if you choose to move in some other direction, all with my most sincere and heartfelt blessings. If it takes you more time than this to ultimately choose to surrender to the collar, well then . . .

I will be watching.

With Deep, Unconditional Love,

Suzie/Lady Suzanne.”

Jonah dropped the paper in confusion, and, in a panic, shrugged off the satin robe and let it fall in a puddle around his feet. He stared down at his groin, and realized that he had been too scared about going to jail that he had numbed himself to the strange weighty feeling from his private parts. Examining himself at last, he found that his cock had been crammed a bit too snugly into a small plastic tube sort of thing, and a tiny cage of plastic webbing shielded his scrotum from any contact with anything else. He instantly concluded that any sort of sensual stimulation or excitation of any kind would be at least totally frustrating, and possibly quite painful. He was mortified, scared and a bit angry all at once. Then, he was just very, very tired.

He opened the drapes of his living room window, and stared, naked and exhausted, out into the night, not even realizing that he had instinctively taken up the stainless steel collar in his right hand, and had begun working the hinge back and forth absentmindedly.

Jonah stared out the window over the lights of the city, and he dreamed.

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03.11.12