The bustling street in the artisan district of the city was a kaleidoscope of peoples from around the world. Nearly every species could be found here from elves like Sylvae to full blooded orcs, all darting about buying and selling everything imaginable from across the planes. The diversity here made it relatively easy for Sylvae to blend in and go unnoticed, even with the fiery red hair and metallic golden irises that normally made her stand out in most places. The lithe elven woman stood against the stone wall of an arcanist and tinkerer’s shop, one worn boot flat against the wall, her knee bent. Her static nature was more out of place in this restless place of commerce than her well-worn adventurer’s garb and gilded rapier, or even her physical appearance.
The crowds might let her remain anonymous to a degree, but they also made the elvish warlock nervous. Sylvae, arms crossed, scanned the throngs of people for anyone with malicious intent. She’d made a fair few enemies in over two centuries of adventuring. Nothing seemed too worrisome. She noted a few cutpurses working the more unsuspecting members of the masses and what appeared to be a shakedown of a merchant by a local gang. Probably a protection racket from the looks of it, a part of the adventurer wanted to intercede, her right hand drifting absentmindedly to her rapier before she thought better of it. Still, she made a mental note to ask Dana if anyone had talked to her about needing protection. Sylvae knew her gnomish friend would likely have taken such a shakedown as an honest offer.
A wry smile came to Sylvae’s lips, Dana was brilliant beyond words, but lacked both basic common-sense and any sense of self-preservation. It was something she found endearing about the raven haired arcanist. Truth be told, there wasn’t much Sylvae didn’t like about the small gnomish woman, and that’s probably why she always dropped everything every time Dana sent her a message about needing assistance.
Thinking back, Sylvae had stumbled upon Dana’s shop perhaps six decades ago at this point, while looking for some magical item or other. She couldn’t even remember what the item was anymore. The shop had been smaller and more crowded back then, but the devices, mechanical, magical, and a blend of both, had been impressive. The proprietor had left an indelible impression, with her fast speech and extensive knowledge. Dana even convinced Sylvae to help with an experiment that very day. It had been a fairly tame endeavor, at least compared to what Dana had put Sylvae through since, but the elven woman had been mesmerized by the intellect and dedication on display even that first day. Now 63 years later Sylvae still came running at the slightest hint of need from the little gnome, and hells, she didn’t even mind waiting like she was today.
She wondered what crazy plan or device would be on the agenda for today. Perhaps testing some eldritch item or completing a mechanical device destined to revolutionize some industry that Sylvae had never thought needed a revolution. It never really mattered to her. The only thing that actually mattered was that she got to spend time basking in the glow of the usually grease and sweat drenched inventor. How could such a tiny creature command her and bend the illustrious adventurer to her will so easily? She’d probably get a teasing earful from her celestial patron tonight, but that was a small cost.
After what felt like far too long, but was only perhaps five minutes, the mechanisms on the heavy metal door to the workshop began to click and whir, the faint magical hum of protective glyphs fading as the familiar entrance opened, and standing perhaps half the height of the willowy six-foot Sylvae, was a gnome, the woman that had beckoned the elf here. Her black hair pulled sloppily up on the top of her head, plenty of errant strands of hair plastered against the woman’s sweat caked face. A bright smile contrasted the deep dark circles ringing tired eyes. She’s been working through the night again, Sylvae thought with a tinge of concern. She admired the inventor’s dedication and work ethic, but she also knew the small woman tended to put the work before her own health. It always caused Sylvae’s heart and mind a bit of grief. Still, she beamed a smile back at the friendly face looking up to her.
“Oh, hi Sylvae! You made really good time. I thought you mentioned, well that you were going to be away on some business on the other side of the ocean, so I really didn’t think I would see you for a few days, but you’re here and that means we might be able to put everything through even more testing than I had hoped,” the arcanist’s demeanor changing from happy to reflective as the stream of words progressed.
Sylvae did her best to sound blithe as she responded, interrupting the gnome briefly, “Well, things didn’t take long and I happened to be nearby.” Dana seemed lost in thought and didn’t appear to note the falsehood of Sylvae’s words.
In truth, the elf had indeed been clear across the world when the arcane mental message had reached her. Without hesitation the warlock had immediately burned a powerful and precious spell to get back here as quickly as possible. The little white lie aimed at shielding Sylvae from embarrassment, and to keep Dana from feeling guilty at recalling the elf from far flung adventures.
As the two entered the immense and cluttered workshop, the small gnomish woman seemed completely lost in reworking some plan muttering to herself in the chitterish sounding gnomish language, only the occasional word intelligible even to Sylvae’s sharp hearing. Dana got this way when solving a truly perplexing problem or when she was simply unsure how to proceed. Sylvae decided to pull her friend back from the personal dimension she had floated off to, asking, “So, Dana my darling, mind filling me in on what was so urgent to call me here?”
A slight jump and squeak from the gnome, clearly indicating she had truly gotten lost in thought, “Oh! Right, I didn’t mention much in the message, well I mean I couldn’t with the word limit on the spell and all,” her fast-fumbling words made a new smile grow on Sylvae’s face.
“So, I am sorry for the short notice, and all, but I got a contract the other day. It was from a very important person, see and it was a rush order and I had to put it to the top of the list, and well it is a bit of an odd request. I mean you know me, I love a challenge, and nothing about it was really that difficult per se, but it was certainly a unique request, and quite specific with a short turnaround.”
Sylvae nearly laughed as the two walked. Dana’s arms and hands began flailing about as she stumbled over a garbled mess of words that made little sense to the elf, but she knew it made complete logical sense in the gnome’s brain. It was really rather adorable. Still, Sylvae did need to start learning what crazed experiment she was about to be the subject of or party to. “Darling, would you perhaps take a moment to breathe, and then start with the basics? Client, what they want, and how specifically that relates to my presence?”
“Oh, uh, yes of course. I was rambling again, wasn’t I?” Dana said looking up into the bemused elf’s eyes.
“You were darling, but I can tell this project, whatever it is, has your formidable mind racing. Color me intrigued, my dear.”
The gnome nodded and took a deep breath before talking again. This time the words were marginally slower, and all in common thank the heavens, though they were still faster than the average person, “So, I got a missive the other day. Nondescript, but the envelope made it clear it was from someone with means, so curiosity got the better of me, and despite having too many commissions and personal projects in the works, I opened it. Inside was a strange drawing and a series of questions related to the, well let’s say, unique gear depicted.”
Sylvae raised an eyebrow, if Dana thought something was unique it certainly would have been outside the norm. She wanted to stop the gnome again to ask what was portrayed, but decided to let her friend tell the story her way. “So, since it was something so peculiar and the questions were intriguing, I decided to go to the tavern it mentioned. I met an elvish man there that was clearly in the service of someone of great means, but was trying to hide it, and I soon found out I was correct. Once I made it clear I wanted the contract, the man let it all spill.” Dana seemed particularly proud of herself for that. Sylvae choked back a small laugh at the idea of Dana being some kind of interrogator.
The amusing image faded quickly at the next words from the little inventor. “See he was representing the Andresti family, you know the royal family of the Queendom of Taelith. Specifically, their recently anointed queen herself, Queen Anora Andresti.” Sylvae’s head spun, the Andresti family was one of, if not, the oldest continuous ruling families of any polity in the world. You couldn’t get more affluent or snobbish than them in Sylvae’s mind, and she had been raised among some of the wealthiest nobility of the Empire in her youth. And what was more, Dana had been directly contacted it would seem from the most important member of that family, the current queen herself.
Seeing the shock on Sylvae’s face Dana nodded in bewildered agreement, “Yeah, I had that look too, especially when the man told me he was the queen’s personal attendant and that the sketched items were for the queen to use herself and demanded the utmost discretion and secrecy,” Dana snapped her fingers in a moment of realization, “Sylvae, I meant to say this at the start, and I suppose it is apparent now, but this project that I need help with has to stay secret. That means telling no-one of our work. That okay?”
Sylvae gave a look that said are you really asking me that, as she added, “Darling, any secret you tell me will go to my grave. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know. Still, this is kinda crazy, and a tiny bit weird, but really whatever strikes the queen’s fancy I suppose.” Sylvae gave Dana another look to get to the point. “Right, it would be best if I showed you some of the commissioned ‘gear’ that the queen asked for,” Dana ushered Sylvae into one of the back workrooms reserved for sensitive or hazardous projects. Sylvae had spent many hours in these spaces, and this was one of the larger ones.
As she entered, the warlock expected to see some sort of secret weapon of war, or some monstrosity designed for a devious plot of annihilation, the Andresti family had a reputation after all for unbridled bloodlust and conquest. Instead, the sight was perplexing, but somewhat underwhelming. In the center of the room was a metal apparatus sticking up perhaps 10 or 12 feet supported on four sturdy steel struts planted on the ground. Near the top of the contraption a singular metal arm hung out with an anchor point on the underside facing the ground, a length of chain dangled from it.
Sylvae’s golden eyes drifted from the imposing construction, to two nearby tables adorned with a range of leather and metal items. Much of it looked like beautifully made dark leather clothing including a pair of odd boots that appeared to be heelless and that had large rounded steel platforms at the toes. They looked almost like a horse’s hooves to Sylvae’s mind. In fact, now that she thought about it, most of the items on the tables seemed vaguely like tacking and accoutrements of an equestrian nature. Sylvae’s mind reeled trying to piece together the puzzle staring at her. The elf’s heart was racing and a small pit was forming in her stomach as some part of her jumbled mind had worked out some inkling of what was going on, while the rest of her mind rationally tried to shout that more perverse corner of her brain down.
Suddenly, the kinkier recess of her mind managed to silence the rational part of her brain, when Sylvae’s eyes glanced up to a set of drawings that made the use of the garments unequivocally clear. Tacked to various boards above a workbench and adjacent wooden table, were sketches of an elvish woman, who looked remarkably like herself complete with her signature septum ring that Sylvae very much doubted that Queen Andresti sported. The gear clearly was meant to evoke an equestrian appearance, but on an elvish form. The suspiciously familiar feminine form in the drawings, was nude save for a variety of the items made real on the tables. It was a strange sight, but to Sylvae’s disbelief she couldn’t deny that the renderings were oddly detailed and erotic.
Eyes wider than she meant, Sylvae looked down at the creator of this deviant and arousing attire as she asked, “D-Dana, darling, is this some strange sexual kink that our dear queen wants to indulge in?”
Dana fidgeted slightly, “Uh, yeah, you um see it appears she has some sort of fantasy about being a horse girl…no, ponygirl is what the note called it. Are you uh, too freaked out?…We don’t have to test this stuff if it’s a bit much for you…I mean really it is a bit odd, though the work was surprisingly inspiring.” Her words were a mess of concern, worry, embarrassment, and something else Sylvae didn’t quite want to acknowledge.
Dana was giving her an easy out of an increasingly bizarre situation, but Sylvae didn’t need it. Sure, this was on the odder side of things she had helped with, but strange kinky devices were nothing new to their work. After all, rich nobles always seemed to have some unique and curious sexual desire they were willing to dump copious amounts of gold on.
More than that though, Sylvae didn’t want to let her dear friend down. The mere thought of how dejected the gnome would be, made Sylvae’s stomach churn. Besides, the elf’s pride and carefully crafted façade of an anything goes adventurer was at stake, and she wanted to impress Dana more than anything. “Darling, this is nothing. We’ve done stranger things to me in this very workshop, and the life of an adventurer has taught me to, well accept adventure wherever it may come.”
The inventor’s demeanor changed drastically. Confidence, excitement, and a swelling of eagerness grew in the compact woman’s form. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she enthusiastically cheered. “I always forget that you are forty years older than me, and you would think that small difference in age for two long lived people like us wouldn’t mean much, but when paired with your adventuring, well, it makes you so unflappable in the face of the unknown. It’s really inspirational,” the gnome beamed with adoration and even what appeared to be a bit of blushing. Sylvae smiled, “So, I assume I’ll be trussed up in this, let us call it ‘unique’ attire, and then I’ll be expected to do what exactly?”
The genius gnomish inventor’s whole body began to vibrate as she spewed forth a veritable explosion of words explaining the intricacies of the work, and how it was necessary to test the functionality of each item. From the, at times very technical and erudite descriptions, Sylvae gathered today she would be suited up in what was considered the base outfit. The rest would be tried on subsequent days. Meanwhile, today she would have to spend time letting the enchanted apparel attune to her, then she would be attached to the device in the center of the room and made to walk in a circle for up to eight hours to stress test the pieces, and it seemed to make sure that the training enchantments on the device and clothing were working to the queen’s personal specifications. It sounded a bit tiring and daunting, but Sylvae’s pride and need to impress the small woman were too great.
Somewhat overwhelmed and still processing what exactly was going to happen to her today, the warlock let herself be led over to the tables cluttered with the commissioned gear. At Dana’s instruction, Sylvae began doffing her adventuring gear. The belt with a series of pouches and her rapier the first to go, but followed in quick order by her cloak, boots, and armor. Soon, she stood completely nude, her toned and lithe body marred here and there with the occasional scar that healing magic hadn’t quite managed to erase. She’d been unclothed many a time in front of Dana, and the gnome had always been clinically professional about it.
Sylvae enjoyed it though. She was confident in her good looks, and though she was sure it was her mind playing tricks, she could swear that ever so rarely she glimpsed Dana looking at her with the slightest hint of longing. It was certainly just Sylvae’s imagination, but she cherished the false hope it brought her. Perhaps one day she mused.
Next, Dana directed the nude elf to kneel so she could apply the first parts of the main outfit. The height difference necessitated the demeaning position, but Sylvae didn’t mind, it meant the delectable gnome would soon be touching her skin. The thought made goosepimples radiate across her skin.
The first item was a somewhat familiar one from previous forays into testing of kinky things for horny nobles, a leather armbinder. It was a single sleeve of supple leather that Dana slid up Sylvae’s arms. With experience, the warlock interlaced her hands and pulled her flexible arms together to make the work easier. With a few tugs, Dana had the sleeve in position, two leather straps curving around the elf’s shoulders. Sylvae felt her arms strain and pull together as the gnome tightened the buckles on the sleeve. She was too flexible for the strain to truly hurt, but it was noticeable as her elbows met under the leather. The elf knew the armbinder would make her push out her chest and she playfully shimmied when Dana did a quick circling inspection. The smaller woman chuckled at the show.
Next, was another not too unfamiliar item, a matching beautiful leather corset. The inventor quickly pulled it tight, narrowing Sylvae’s waist. The elf liked this item far less, it had the unfortunate quality of reminding her of her youth spent in etiquette classes for young nobles, a distressingly idiotic time foisted upon her by her conservative mother. Dana subsequently presented a strange tangle of leather and metal that was hastily wrapped around Sylvae’s head. The straps held square leather blinders next to the woman’s eyes, obscuring Sylvae’s peripheral vision, and restricting her sight to a forward-facing field. A bit of trepidation lanced into the adventurer’s mind. Noting the hesitancy, a stuttering Dana attempted to reassure Sylvae, “I um, promise this is all safe. You uh, trust me, right?”
“Of course, darling,” Sylvae answered back, somehow reassured by the words that would have sounded anything but to another person. For Sylvae though the stumbling words were honeyed and calming because of their source.
“Okay, I’m going to finish the head harness, but it means inserting the bit gag, so you won’t be able to talk. Will you be okay with that?” Dana asked, looking for consent.
Sylvae looked at the leather wrapped metal bit and thought it would likely make it difficult to speak, but not impossible. That said, Dana knew her stuff, so she took the inventor at her word. Sylvae answered confidently and perhaps even a bit cheekily, “Do your worst my dear.” The words made the smaller woman laugh slightly as she applied the bit gag, and buckled all of the straps into place. The gnome explained there were many more items.
Still, kneeling the elven woman felt a rigid leather and metal collar wrap around her neck, as a posture collar was set in place. It extended from her chin and lower jawline down across her shoulders. It made it practically impossible to move her head, and she had no way to look down now without having to bend her entire body. The final addition would be the strange heelless boots. For them, Dana guided the redhaired elf to sit in a nearby chair.
Sylvae, forced to look straight ahead, merely felt a tap on her right shin, and she instinctively raised her right foot off the ground. She could feel the tight leather slip up past first her foot, then her ankle, and finally the top of the boot stopped just shy of her knee. As the boot was applied, Sylvae felt her foot contour into the peculiar position. Once standing she would be on only her toes and the ball of her foot. She wondered how odd that would feel. She had always detested the high heels that had been in vogue among nobles when she was forced into her etiquette classes. She much preferred the feel of a well-worn set of traveling boots.
Soon she felt her left shin being tapped, and before long the second boot was in place. Both were quickly laced snugly to her legs and feet. “Okay, everything seems to fit, we are so lucky that you and the queen appear to have such similar measurements,” the gnomish inventor mused. “Really it is just that you have a smaller chest than her it would seem.” Sylvae huffed a little at that. “Anything feel off? Or painful?” Sylvae shook her head no. The outfit was uncomfortable in some ways, but nothing truly concerning to her.
“Alright, well, we’ll need to wait an hour for everything to attune to you. So, uh feel free to wait here on the chair, or if you want to get up and test things out that’s fine too, I guess,” Dana offered up. Did Sylvae detect a bit of hope lacing Dana’s second option? Well, who was she to deny the expectant woman?
With a bit of wobbling, Sylvae stood up and tested the boots. It was similar to her memory of walking in heels, or a more accurate description would be walking on tiptoe. After all, the pointed pressure that she remembered high heels usually left on the heel of her foot wasn’t there. What was more surprising, was that while she certainly had to focus on her balance, the metal hoof platforms below her toes and the balls of her feet, actually added more stability than a regular shoe would in this position.
After just a few minutes Sylvae had enough confidence to try a light jog. The entire time Dana was hastily scribbling notes and cheering Sylvae on. The elven woman loved the adulation heaped on her by the little gnomish woman. After trying out a few different motions and moves to test the extent of her range of motion, the hour of attunement came to a close. At this point, Dana explained that the queen, for obvious reasons, wanted the outfit to be something she could more or less apply and secure to her person with little to no assistance. Sylvae could understand that a powerful queen wouldn’t want the backstabbers in her court to learn she liked being laced up like a common draft animal.
As Dana continued to explain, she had layered a number of enchantments on the various pieces. With a mental command they could be tightened or loosened. Dana had Sylvae test this first feature, and as the ‘tighten’ command was given mentally, the elf felt her bondage and compression increase. The corset shrank by at least an inch, and the armbinder somehow found space to pull her arms ever closer together. Everywhere there was any slack in the straps and bonds Sylvae felt them tighten, and even in places she didn’t think there was any slack she was proven wrong. It all felt a bit uncomfortable to the elf, but she knew she could handle it for Dana.
“Incredible! It worked so well,” the inventor smiled. “Okay, the next part is kind of the point of no return, so I want you to really consider it Sylvae,” the gnome said in a surprisingly serious tone. “The queen wanted to be able to seal herself in without a means to escape for extended periods of time, so by thinking the word ‘seal’ and a period of time, the bindings won’t be able to be released without powerful dispel magic spells. So, uh you think you can handle eight hours like this for the endurance test or would you like to back out? It’s totally fine if you want to back out.” A sliver of concern cut through Dana’s words.
Sylvae was a bit surprised by the prospect, but nothing felt unbearable, so she attempted to say “I’m good,” or at least something close to it with the gag in her mouth, but she found herself shocked by the sound that came out. She had expected her words to be slightly garbled, but it was more extensive than that. In place of actual words, she made a whinnying noise like a horse. It was still in the tone of her voice, as if she herself were trying to imitate a horse. A look of utter disbelief washed over her.
“Oh! So sorry, I must have forgotten, yeah, the um bit gag has another spell on it that makes it so you can only make noises similar to a horse. Is uh, that okay?” she sheepishly asked, clearly embarrassed by the omission. Sylvae was used to small details getting lost in Dana’s tests. The inventor’s mind was always clearly thinking of a hundred different things, and sometimes she just forgot a detail or two. Most of the time it wasn’t really an issue, and even when it was, Sylvae didn’t really mind it. She had come to accept it as a sort of endearing quirk of the brilliant minded woman. Sylvae finally gave the faintest nod possible as the posture collar made anything more impossible.
Realizing the issues that might arise from the current circumstance, Dana offered up a way for the two to communicate more clearly, “Okay, since you can’t talk and your hands are hidden, let’s do this. I’ll stick to yes and no questions when we, erm, I talk to you. To answer my questions, you can stomp your right foot, or uh hoof I guess, once. And for no, you can stomp the right hoof twice. That work?” Sylvae stomped her right foot, or hoof as Dana was calling it, once in acknowledgement. It was demeaning, but Sylvae’s heart fluttered as her friend cheerfully said, “Good girl! That’s going to work so well.” Being called a “good girl” sent a warmth surging through her body to a particular spot between her legs.
Dana continued, “And lastly we need an emergency signal to tell me something is wrong or you want to stop and not continue the tests.” The small woman tapped her cheek, “How about we have you stomp your left hoof twice and then your right hoof three times?” Sylvae gave a single right hoof stomp. The gnome clapped her hands excitedly, “Alright then, let’s move on! If you are sure that you are good with being trapped for the next eight hours, go ahead and activate it with the word ‘seal’ and the number eight.” Sylvae did as instructed and she felt a small shiver run down her spine as a faint hum emitted from the various items, followed by a clear clicking noise that indicated that they were sealed on for the next eight hours. It was a peculiar feeling knowing she was truly stuck. Not concerning, but certainly a tension to the moment.
Dana gave a few of the buckles and lacing on Sylvae a tug. Nothing budged, and she quickly scribbled a few notes down on a clipboard. “Alright let’s get you hooked up to the training rig and try a few circuits around the circle before applying the last couple adjustments. Sylvae wondered what adjustments would be necessary, but decided she would just have to wait to find out.
Sylvae followed Dana over to the spot under the horizontal metal bar where the chain hung limply down. Dana, too short to reach the chain, quickly retrieved a small ladder and grabbed the chain, locking it to a small ring on the top of the head harness. A familiar hum and click came. The gnome explained that the training device had synced up with the settings on the rest of the gear and would not release for eight hours. Then using a small control rod, the arcanist activated what she was now referring to as a training walker, and the metal arm above lurched forward at a brisk but manageable pace. Sylvae only took a moment to adjust. She stumbled slightly when the chain went taut for a brief moment, but she recovered and kept up. The speed was similar to a fast walk, difficult in the boots that forced her to walk on tiptoe, but Sylvae’s travels as an adventurer and her natural gift as a runner kept it quite manageable.
After a few rotations Dana seemed satisfied, and she stopped the device. Sylvae came to a halting stop tittering in the boots slightly. Her arms uselessly fused together in the arm binder, unable to assist with the balancing act. Perspiration already streaked her pale skin. She was surprised at how winded the short stent made her. It boded ill for the longer duration the full test would take. In particular her toes and calves already felt an ache. As she considered her physical state, Sylvae heard Dana mention quickly that she was going to get the last things for the test and she stepped out of the elf’s limited vision. Not being able to see Dana made Sylvae a little nervous or perhaps anxious. She knew the gnome was nearby, but Sylvae simply felt better when she could see her friend’s sweat soaked and adorable features. It helped her center herself at moments of uncertainty like this.
With a small start, the gnome was soon in front of her again having pulled over the ladder to show the last items. Sylvae’s golden eyes widened considerably at what the gnome held. It was a belt like dark leather harness that had two disquieting items set into the webbing of leather. One clearly would rest between her ass cheeks. A tapered black butt plug of some shiny and smooth material. Sylvae clenched reflexively. Twice before she had allowed Dana to insert something like this into her. She really didn’t like the feeling, but just as with those previous occasions, she knew she would assent to the request knowing it was a part of the necessary testing. There was a small difference this time though that she noted, a tuft of long black horse hair dangled from the seat of the plug. A horse needs a tail she supposed to herself. The other intruder was a bit more welcome. It was a well-endowed, though not uncomfortably so, approximation of a male phallus, but with unnatural ridges and bumps that made it more effective in Sylvae’s experience than any fleshy appendage of an actual male.
“So, um, yeah, these uh go where you think they will. Just like everything else they will sync and won’t be removable once on until the time has elapsed,” the gnome was looking down at the floor as she explained, unable to look directly at Sylvae, a cute blush clearly radiating across her pale though dirty face. Sylvae smiled behind her bit-gag. Dana always looked so cute when she was bashful. “So, yeah, the other thing is these are meant for training according to what Queen Andresti instructed. So, they uh, once synced, they will give encouragement in the form of vibrations for good performance, and um for bad performance they will give moderate shocks.” Sylvae again found herself staring wide-eyed. This was definitely becoming one of the top three weirdest experiences of her life. “Yeah, that’s uh too much isn’t it?” Dana said, but to both her and Sylvae’s own surprise, the bound elven pony girl stomped twice with her right hoofed foot. Registering the sentiment, Dana asked one more time, “Are you sure Sylvae? This could get quite, uh, difficult.”
The elf took a brief moment to think. A small voice at the back of her mind screamed pointlessly to opt out, that this was too much, but the overwhelming portion of her mind was fixated on two rewards. The pleasure she would get for a good performance, and how proud Dana would be of her. The idea that she might get the punishment seemed a faraway impossibility only entertained by that small voice of reason that remained ignored at the back of her mind. With a look of determination, Sylvae gazed directly at the elevated gnomish woman, and stomped her right hoof once to indicate that she was indeed sure.
The inventor disappeared from view back down the ladder, and Sylvae could hear the woman applying a familiar lubricant to the two intruders. First to slide into place was mercifully the phallic device. Her sex was already wet, more so than Sylvae had realized, and with the addition of lubricant the device sunk in easily. Sylvae felt a slight heat arise on her cheeks as she thought about how Dana had probably seen how aroused she was. Nothing to be done about that now she realized. Next was the anal plug with the tail. She did her best to relax, but her arse would not fully comply, and Dana had to use some considerable force to drive the plug in over a series of probing efforts. Sylvae felt a severe discomfort before the damnable thing settled into place. Now the sensation was only slightly unpleasant and mostly it made her feel a bit full back there. With a familiar hum and click the belt synced and locked on. She would be stuck with them now until the eight hours were over.
The ladder was removed, and Sylvae became aware that Dana was making one last inspection. Using her senses, the warlock turned pony, waited until the small gnome was directly behind her, and she wiggled her butt causing the horse hair tail to sway back and forth. She also tried to say some words to elicit the expected whinny of a horse. A playful giggle escaped Dana’s lips before she added, “Such an eager pony, huh?” Her hand caressed Sylvae’s bare right thigh. The elf’s little outburst meant to fluster the gnome had backfired in that instant, as the soft touch caused the warmth that had been building in her womanhood to surge, her pussy clenching reflexively around the intimate intruder resting there. A small moan escaped Sylvae’s lips, mercifully transformed into a faint animalistic grunt that hopefully belied the origin of the sound.
“Okay, time to start the training regimen,” Dana declared, and soon the walker was rotating again. Sylvae, despite her excitement, started trying to match the brisk walking speed from earlier. Suddenly and surprisingly, her world went white with pain, her body spasming as a painful electric shock tore out of the anal plug and the dildo. Through the agony, the elf registered that Dana was telling her to speed up to match the pace, but also warning her to not go too fast to outpace the walker. The instructions were given in a surprisingly forceful and commanding tone, that Sylvae would have thought impossible for such a small framed creature. The imperious tone cut through the pain surprisingly well, and simultaneously aroused the elf in an unexpected way.
As Sylvae found the sweet spot, pacing with the walker properly, her thrill intensified, as she heard her beautiful and brilliant friend’s tone soften and praise her, “There you go. Good girl. That’s the pace. Steady.” Sylvae smiled around the bit gag at the encouragement, a bit of spittle tracing down her chin, but her smile and the building pleasure between her legs vanished in an instant as another horrendous shock ripped through her arse and pussy. She shook and spasmed, dragged ever forward by the uncaring walker. Her steps became a stumble. As the immediate intense pain receded, a worrying tone and series of words came from Dana, “What? Why’d that happen? It should be pleasuring her…What’s wrong?” About that time another shock arced through Sylvae. She screamed, the magical bit gag turning her elven shriek into the wail of a distressed animal. She tried to maintain her composure and keep pace with the walker, but mostly faltered forward, her gait distorted by the pain. Her legs wanted to lock from the electricity pulsing through her. She couldn’t last long this way. Then she heard Dana come to an epiphany, “Oh! Oh! I forgot! You are supposed to raise your knees really high with each step. I’m so, so sorry Sylvae! Raise them quick!”
Sylvae, now aware of the need to raise her knees high, attempted to do so, but was shocked for a third time before she finally managed the newly required form. The pace proved far more difficult with this last little forgotten detail from Dana. The elven pony girl clenched her teeth around the leather and steel gag, plunging forward with determination. Her legs strained to maintain the high step and her feet hammering with pain. She was vaguely aware of the apologies spewing from Dana, but what caught Sylvae’s attention was the growing vibrations in her most intimate of places. At first the feeling was welcome, and exhilarating even, but as she tried to keep pace with the walker, a terrible comprehension of her predicament came into sudden relief in her mind. The longer she succeeded, the more intense the vibrations became, and it would only be a matter of time before those same sensations would make her form falter, or worse drive her to an orgasm where she wouldn’t be able to continue marching. Then the cursed shocks would return. The queen must be a truly masochistic bitch, Sylvae dejectedly thought to herself.
After only a few circuits of the walker, the dreaded moment came. The vibrations became too much and she began having difficulty bringing her knees high enough. The vibrations ceased momentarily as a shock tore into her again with intense pain, teeth gnashing against the bit gag. She recovered as quickly as she could; Dana was gently and kindly reminding her to keep her knees high. Sylvae did what she could, but as the vibrations became intense again, she faltered and the pain returned.
Over the next dozen rotations, the precarious dance between pleasure and pain played out. Sylvae became somehow more frustrated at each denied orgasm rather than at the horrid shocks. Her arousal only worsened with the continued failures, and Dana’s voice began to take on a bit of frustration as she tried to continue to encourage Sylvae to keep the right form and pace. The gnome seemingly unaware of the exact hell the elf was experiencing. Eventually, the hints of frustration in the gnome’s voice shifted to a more authoritative command, and she began to bark orders at Sylvae instead of words of encouragement.
Apparently, the commanding voice Dana turned to was the extra push Sylvae needed, when as she neared an orgasm again but before her faltering form triggered the denying shocks, Sylvae’s lust crashed past the previously insurmountable barrier and she climaxed. Mid-climax the terrible shocks started to course through her, but they only seemed to accentuate the bliss at work in Sylvae’s body. The climax-addled brain of the elf became vaguely aware that she was currently dangling, her legs dragging behind her as the distant panic of Dana’s sweet voice said something. The walker stopped abruptly, and Sylvae hung limply. The head harness took the full brunt of her weight, but in her heavenly state, the elven woman didn’t care. She heard more sweet but hurried words coming from a gnome now trying to hold her up. Sylvae started to struggle, she tried to get her oddly booted feet, or was it hooves, under her. With some effort she managed to get her footing, and even began to register the apologies and words coming from her concerned friend, “Oh gods! Sylvae, ar-are you okay? Please gods above and below, let her be okay…”
Sylvae, still recovering from her orgasm, started to try to give Dana signs she was okay, and the gnome began to soothe herself once she noticed. Once both women had calmed themselves down, Dana, standing on her ladder again to be at eye level with Sylvae, asked in a slightly pained voice, “You want to quit after that, right?”
The elf took a moment to assess the situation. The current pace and set up was truly wicked. Her legs and feet screamed in agony already. She was going to suffer through a fair number of painful shocks over the remaining hours for sure, but there would also likely be a few more of those amazing climaxes. She reminded herself that this was for Dana, and finishing it would help the inventor. Psyching herself up, she looked straight into the worried eyes of the beautiful little inventor in front of her and stomped clearly twice with her right hoof.
Disbelief flew across Dana’s features, before a look of complete admiration replaced it, “You really are amazing aren’t you Sylvae?” Whatever doubts had remained in the elf’s mind vanished with those words. The ladder was taken away yet again. Soon Sylvae became aware of the other woman standing near her backside. A click and a whir hummed as the walker began to kick into life once more. Simultaneously, a crisp smack of flesh on flesh came as Dana slapped Sylvae’s toned ass, jovially encouraging the elf forward with a playful, “Giddy up little pony!” The woman surged forward on her aching hooved feet, a smile across her gagged lips and arousal between her legs.
The next several hours passed intensely for Sylvae. Most of the time she focused all of her will and energy on ignoring the vibrations and keeping her pace and form. She supposed that was the point, as it made her feel like a mindless animal. Occasionally, especially as timed dragged on, she would let herself give in to the pleasurable vibrations knowing full well that pain would follow. Comprehending the situation better, Dana often devilishly taunted her about her “poor” form and inability to keep pace. The little inventor clearly understood the teasing words only heightened the tall elf’s pleasure as after each torturous, yet equally delightful orgasm, Sylvae could make out the distinct mischievous giggles of her friend and current trainer.
So, the test and the game continued. Sylvae could feel the toll on her body from the combination of exercise, the restraints, the orgasms, and the punishments. She was weakening with every rotation. Her body was drenched in sweat and, well, other things. She had to smell absolutely rank. Exhaustion started setting into every muscle in her body. Mercifully, as doubt about her ability to continue began to creep into her mind, the walker suddenly stopped, and Dana appeared before her.
Sylvae used the opportunity to try to catch her labored breath. Hard pants leaving her gagged mouth as her chest heaved in an attempt to pull in enough fresh air to sate her burning muscles. After a moment, and once Sylvae managed to get her breathing under control, Dana revealed one final twist, “So, uh we only have a few minutes left for the test…but uh it would really be helpful to try the higher speeds on the walker to properly test it. How do uh, you feel about that?” Concerned furrowed the woman’s cute little black eyebrows, genuine care in her eyes. “Can you handle it?”
Sylvae knew at a higher speed it would be fairly hard, especially after several hours, to keep her pace and form, likely dooming her to a fair number of terrible shocks. In the end, she resolved to see this through fully. If it really would be helpful to Dana’s work she would do it without hesitation, besides she had come this far. She gave a single assenting stomp with her right hoof.
Pride and respect flared reassuringly across the gnome’s face. Dana eased Sylvae into the higher speeds, but even so, Sylvae’s thoughts proved quite prescient. For much of the final five laps she was constantly out of form or being dragged along while her body spasmed from the electrifying punishers inside her. All the same she persevered through the strain and pain. Animalistic grunts escaping the magically modified bit gag.
The walker eventually came to a full stop. After a few brief moments standing still recovering, Sylvae felt a hum and heard the clicking across her restraints. The time had thankfully expired, and within seconds Dana was tearing the items off the exhausted and depleted elf. Once free, Dana led the tired Sylvae to an awaiting bath that she helped Sylvae soak in. The inventor was all flattery and admiration as she kept saying how impressive Sylvae was. It was almost too much, almost.
Dana even offered something she had never offered before, she proposed to massage Sylvae’s aching muscles while she relaxed in the bath. The elf perked up at the offer quickly accepting the proposal, it spoke to a vague dream she had once had some years ago shortly after meeting the gnome. The elf’s heart quickened at the prospect of being so touched by her dear friend. The inventor’s talented hands, honed over years of crafting, were remarkably capable as she worked her way across the taller woman’s body. She paid especial attention to Sylvae’s legs and feet which had taken the worst of the abuse.
Once recovered, Sylvae donned a simple robe she usually left here at Dana’s for times like this. It was a blue and black silk piece. Far nicer than anything she took on the road. The two women retired to a small room on the second floor of the workshop, Dana’s bedroom. The walls were covered in bookcases and schematics of half thought-out devices. After some discussions about the day, Dana asked Sylvae if she were still up for more tests in the coming days. The elf didn’t hesitate agreeing, exhilarated by both what trials she might face next and how it would keep her at the gnome’s side a bit longer.
Soon after, Dana started writing down notes at her desk in the room, and a tired Sylvae laid down on the cot set up on the opposite side of the room. It was no cushy bed, but miles better than a bedroll on some forest floor she thought. Seeming to think along similar tracks as Sylvae, Dana remorsefully lamented that she wished she would remember to buy an actual bed for the elf to use since she was staying over so often.
Sylvae, just grunted something approximating agreement, too flustered to say any meaningful words. The elvish woman drifted off to sleep quickly. Sometime in the middle of the night Sylvae awoke to find Dana usurpingly slumped at her desk, passed out. Sylvae wished the intelligent woman would learn to take better care of herself. Sylvae carefully scooped up the tiny slumbering inventor and placed her gently into her actual bed, tucking her in with a practiced hand. This was nothing new for the elf whenever she stayed over. Sylvae wiped a wayward strand of black hair out of the sleeping woman’s face, tucking it neatly behind her cute little pointed ear.
Sylvae settled back onto her cot. Before sleep took her again, a familiar dulcet voice entered her mind, that of her celestial patron. “That was an interesting evening…” Sylvae was not in the mood for any teasing, however lighthearted it may be, she just wanted to cherish the mental image of a quiet and sleeping Dana, as she herself drifted off to dreams. The entity in her mind seemed to accept this, saying in a far more serious tone than usual, “You really should tell her how you feel.” The elf’s golden eyes closed, and she uttered out loud a simple two-word response, “I know,” before slipping off to sleep.