Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

Three Steps

by Dark Marcy

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© Copyright 2012 - Dark Marcy - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF+/f; naked; bond; boots; chain; corset; armbinder; bit gag; ponygirl; toys; insert; climax; denial; cons; X

Part One

Adam’s Range Rover crunched around in a wide arc on the gravel driveway and came to a halt with its passenger door facing the wide gatehouse of a large brick building. The gatehouse itself had a wide arch in the centre which led into the courtyard of what was clearly a large stable-block, though one which might seem, on closer inspection, to be rather excessively clean, free from hay, and conspicuously short on horses.

Jennifer was largely unaware of these minor details. All she could think about was that she had been asked to strip herself free of all clothing before Adam would drive another foot down the driveway some ten minutes earlier. Her dress, her stockings, her bra and panties all lay haphazardly upon the back seat of the Range Rover. Now that she was naked, she was suddenly very aware of her skin, the brief draft from the air conditioning directed toward her, the warmth on her right arm from the sun, the slight clamminess of the leather seat against her bare ass.

She looked across at Adam, only to catch him staring back at her, they both grinned nervously and she looked away, but he broke the tension by leaning across the centre console and placing a light, brief kiss on her turned cheek.

“Sure?” he said.

“No.” she replied, and enjoyed the brief worried look on his face, “I sit in cars naked for the kicks.”

He grinned and looked her up and down, “You’ll be getting your kicks this weekend, I promise you that.”

He popped his door open and trotted around the front of the car to open hers. His strong, square face was illuminated by an almost boyish look of anticipation as he handed her down to the driveway. Jennifer gave a brief gasp as her toes sank into the gravel, the small stones were cold, but dry; and they were round. Hmm, expensive. Jennifer thought.

“This way, Jen.” Called Adam, opening a heavy door in the inner wall of the gatehouse.

“You have to go in here without me,” he explained, “its part of their safety measures.”

“You’ll be out here waiting for me.” She said.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” He grinned darkly, and swung his free arm to gesture her inside.

She was still standing next to the Range Rover, having not moved since he first helped her down onto the gravel. The few short steps into the room took her from the gravel; pliant, cool and dry; onto the warm flat cobbles of the courtyard, and over cold tiles that made her arch her feet upwards and walk on tiptoe into the room itself. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the lesser light in the room, and she was aware of the door swinging closed behind her. The last noise she heard of the outside world was a soft tweet as Adam set the Range Rover’s alarm. The iron latch squeaked into place, and the room came more clearly to view.

“Good afternoon, Jennifer” said a woman seated behind a desk in the far corner of the room, maybe ten feet from where Jennifer stood. The woman was dressed in a simple black trouser suit, she was blond and maybe fifty, but carried her age exceptionally well; she looked steadily across the desk at Jennifer. In the presence of this calm, controlled, and above all, dressed woman, Jennifer was sharply aware of her own nakedness, and moved her hands together over her mons. In her disadvantaged state, eye contact became very difficult, and Jennifer found herself staring at the floor, her dark brown hair flopped forward over her breasts, and the slight tickling sensation as the ends brushed her nipples sent a brief tremor of pleasure through her in spite of herself.

The woman noticed her awkward position. “I shouldn’t stand on ceremony whilst you’re here, Jennifer. We shall all be seeing a great deal more of that before you leave, I should imagine.” Jennifer relaxed a little, and stood up straighter.

“That’s a good girl.” Said the woman, brightening suddenly. Her accent was definitely upper class, with the suggestion of being used to giving orders, and having them obeyed. “First things first, then.” She said somewhat loudly. At the back of the room a door opened and a man stepped in carrying a pair of heeled shoes and a length of chain. “Ian here will just introduce you to our little establishment.” Ian pulled a chair into the room with him and placed it squarely in the centre of the floor. “If you’d just sit down, please, miss.” He said quietly.

Jennifer paused and looked towards the woman, who raised her eyebrows and flicked her eyes helpfully at the chair. Jennifer stepped over to the chair and sat down.

“Left foot first, please.” Said Ian, and Jennifer complied, placing her left foot in his outstretched right hand.

The shoe, such as it was, was made of black leather, and fashioned into an ankle boot. It slipped onto her size six foot beautifully, Adam had clearly given them her measurements beforehand. At the ankle of the boot was a thick strap, and a piece of metal projected from the outside edge of the shoe. On the back of the boot, above what was roughly a five inch heel, was a small metal loop, hanging down from a smaller metal fixing on the back of the boot. Ian laced the boot up rather tightly, then set about closing the strap. The metal piece protruded through the strap once it was wrapped snugly around her ankle, completely enclosing the top three crosses of the lace and the knot itself, and a small padlock was placed through the metal piece, securing the strap in place. The boot was a snug fit, and wherever Jennifer twisted her ankle, she could feel the strap firmly holding her foot in the boot. The padlock clicked from side to side in its hasp as she turned her foot.

“Right foot, please.” Said Ian, cutting into her train of thoughts. She snapped to attention, and immediately placed her right foot in his waiting hand. He tied the laces and strapped her foot into the boot once more, taking another padlock from his pocket and snapping it into place. Finally, he took a twelve inch length of chain and two more padlocks and snapped the chain onto each of the metal rings on the back of her shoes. Without another word, Ian stood, turned, and left the room, closing the door behind him. Jennifer sat on the chair, her ankles chained together, the chain resting gently upon the floor at its centre.

“Stand please, and step in front of my desk.” Said the woman.

The chain rattled and pulled taught as Jennifer stood. She would have preferred a little more slack, particularly if she had to walk far, but the twelve or so feet to the woman’s desk, increased though they were from six quick strides to a half minute or so of clinking her chains, scraping her heels and the occasional wobble as the both conspired to trip her up, proved to be no great obstacle. Adam had often had her shuffling around the house in much more restrictive conditions, she thought, and at least now she had her arms to balance. A brief smile flicked across her face as she considered the occasions when she had not. The heels were a little high for her, and she could feel the tendons in the back of her legs protesting under the task of balancing, even in that short hobble from the chair to the desk.

She stood before the desk, naked, chained, and horny as hell. Jennifer could feel her heart racing and the giddy, excited feeling of that first drop in a roller coaster or the fast mountain bend. With an effort of will, she focused on the woman behind the desk, who, coincidentally, had stood and was walking around to stand in front of her.

“Jennifer.” She said, “Here at the Manor house, we have a safety policy. We only want women and men here who willingly take part in our activities for their own enjoyment, and that of their partners. During your initiation here, you will be given three attempts to refuse, we give this first interview without your partner that you might be free from any pressure he might exert upon you. This is, therefore, your first opportunity to refuse and leave. On my desk are the keys to the padlocks on your ankles, so I must ask you now, Jennifer, are you aware that you are here to become what is commonly referred to as a ponygirl?”

At this first, verbal confirmation, Jennifer felt a thrill of anticipation.

“Yes.” She replied.

“You are aware,” continued the woman, “that during your time here you will be chained, bitted and likely whipped and required to perform training rituals associated with your complete subservience to your partner and his elected trainers, who include all the staff at this establishment. You will be a ponygirl, prevented from speaking, kept in a stall, and your only means of release will be in your partner’s hands. This is the end of your first refusal, do you accept our terms, and do you consent to continue?”

Jennifer shifted her weight and moved her right foot out to the end of its chain. The clink as the chain taughtened, the grasp of the leather around her ankle, it all excited and aroused her, she wanted this.

“Yes.” She almost gasped. The woman nodded, and her gaze moved from Jennifer to something over the girl’s shoulder. Jennifer turned to see Adam standing behind her in a circle of daylight coming from the doorway.

“This way.” He said, there was a stern edge to his voice, it was the voice he used during their games. Commanding, authoritative, it was almost coincidence that she wanted to obey as well. Adam stepped away into the daylight, and Jennifer clinked after him, twelve inches at time, unsteady on the cobbles in her high heels. He walked quickly away across the courtyard and disappeared into a stable door diagonally opposite her. She made slow progress in her chains, and when once she fell it took her the longest time to lever herself up onto the heels again and continue her journey. In the ten or so minutes it took her to cross the twenty yards across the stable yard, she had time to observe the old red brick from which the stables were constructed, and above her a small clock tower stood upon the back wall of the stables, over which she could see the second floor of the Manor House in which she assumed Adam would be staying over the weekend. She looked over to her left, to the slowly approaching stable door. My home. She thought. For the next couple of nights, at least.

In a few more steps she was through the door, and into what would ordinarily be called a tack room. The floor was concrete, neat and smooth; there were thick wooden pillars dotted here and there to support the ceiling, and each one had a set of tether points set about five feet above the ground, just what you might expect in any stable. The equipment on the walls, however, was unlike that you might normally find in a working stable. It was all clean and new, most of it was black or red, and if you looked carefully, all of it had been designed to lock on.

Adam sat on a wooden chair about eight feet away on her right. He had turned his chair backwards, and straddled the chair with his elbows resting on the back and his arms folded. In his slightly protruding right hand, a bunch of densely nested keys was turning over and over, making light chinking noises as it did so. Further back in the stable were two men and a woman, they were standing in a loose triangle around a pile of equipment similar to that on the walls, she could make out lots of metal fixings, lengths of chain, buckles and hasps, but no specific details. Next to the pile of equipment was a smaller cluster of brass padlocks, identical to those currently holding the boots on her feet, and all opened.

“Step forward, please.” Said the taller of the two men. He held a slightly larger padlock in his hand. “Stand over the D-ring, if you please.”

Jennifer trotted forward until she was over the metal fixing he had indicated, it was concreted into the floor, and once she was close enough, the man took the padlock and slipped it though the D-ring and around the chain between her ankles. It was more or less pulled taught, and her movement was limited to a few inches in either direction, dependent upon what slack she could provide by moving one foot closer to the D-ring that the other might move away. The woman came forward and turned her around by the shoulders. Taking a comb from her pocket, she calmly combed Jennifer’s hair into a ponytail, quite high near the top of her head, and secured it with a black rubber band. Adam was now behind her, and she twisted her head around to look at him, taking a couple of tiny steps to turn. He stared at her with unusual intensity, a look of both gratification and perhaps also gratitude upon his otherwise calm face.

“Look forward.” This order came from the woman, who had lifted a large, torso shaped piece of leather and buckles from the pile on the floor. Jennifer turned to face this second woman, who was dressed like a groom if you ignored the high heels and the blouse showing off most of her breasts. “Lift your arms.” She ordered, and Jennifer did so.

With a little more roughness than might have been necessary, the woman pulled the large leather garment over Jennifer’s head. Once it was arranged upon her, Jennifer was able to see that it was made of one piece, split at the back with buckles either side. There was nothing between the legs, and it fit closely over her shoulders and chest. In the front panel were two holes which allowed her ample breasts to protrude. She was allowed to arrange the suit around her so it sat more neatly on her shoulders and did not chafe against the sides of her breasts.

On each shoulder of the garment was a D-ring, and circling the neck was a thick strap which the woman now fastened snugly around her throat. The first of the little brass padlocks from the pile on the floor went through a pair of holes in the buckle and snapped shut. The taller man stepped behind her and began fastening the long line of straps down her back. The garment gradually became a great deal tighter around her chest and waist, cinching the latter quite tightly. To Jennifer’s surprise, the man did not apply the padlocks to these buckles, but left them half fastened down the length of her back.

He stayed behind her, and said, “Breathe out.”

Puzzled, Jennifer did so, gently letting the breath out through her nose.

“Further.” Said the man.

Jennifer turned her head slightly to try and see the man, but caught a sharp look from the woman standing in front of her and thought better of it. Confused, she exhaled to her limit.

“Hold it.” Said the man.

With unusual dexterity, he rapidly re-fastened each of the buckles around her chest and waist, pulling the straps to their absolute limit before slipping the buckle closed. With her breath held out, the man ran down the buckles once, and then went back up them, re-tightening as he went.

The leather of the garment…

Garment? This is a corset. Thought Jennifer.

The leather of the corset was pulled tight around her chest and waist, Jennifer’s breath came in short gasps at first, her chest unable to expand in the strict leather, but steadied as she realised that slow but shallow breaths were the only way to control her breathing, to get adequate air into her lungs and avoid hyperventilating. Her waist was cinched into an elegant hourglass shape by the corset. Jennifer wished she had a mirror.

The woman passed the taller man a handful of padlocks, and he carefully snapped them onto the buckles down her back. Trapped. She thought. Her breath quickened as she considered her predicament, chained to the floor, and with an unforgiving corset buckled and locked onto her. She gasped for breath and her vision started to narrow, she swayed slightly.

“Frightened? Or excited?” said the woman. She didn’t wait for her answer, but crouched down in front of Jennifer and looked between her legs, where the shaven expanse of her vagina glistened in its own juices. The woman looked up at Jennifer and smirked. “Excited, I’d say.”

Jennifer heard a chuckle from behind her, it was Adam’s laugh. He knew she’d be enjoying this, and he was probably enjoying it just as much. She imagined how she must look, her figure given a new curve in the leather corset, her breasts heaving at every shortened breath. She imagined his massive erection, and the self-control he must be exerting just to keep himself in that seat; she pictured his fingers whitened around their grip on the back of the chair, desperate to grab her.

“Put your arms behind you.” the woman’s voice cut through her haze of fantasy.

Expecting some form of arm-binder, Jennifer put her arms as close together as they would go, palms together, but found her arms rearranged by confident hands so that the right hand was clasped around the left elbow and the left hand around the right, her arms forming a U-shape behind her back. In this position, she felt her forearms encircled in leather, and straps tightened around them. Two more thicker straps ran around her arms above each of her elbows, and these two in particular were tightly fastened close around her biceps. Once again she heard the clicking noises as padlocks were placed along the straps on her forearms and one on each of the bands around her biceps. She sensed the man step away from his handiwork, and felt that she ought to get the measure of this slightly irregular bondage. Her arms moved a little up and down at the shoulders, and would traverse very slightly from side to side, but the leather of her armbinder was stiff and unyielding, keeping her elbows crooked more or less at right-angles.

The man stepped up to her back and ran a single leather strap through two eyelets positioned centrally, one above the other, on the back of her corset. This strap then ran around the device her arms were held in and was pulled tight, pressing her arms against the small of her back, it too was locked in place. There was barely any movement available to her arms now. The second man, who had stood quietly by up until this point, now stepped in front of her.

“Jennifer, this is your second chance for refusal, and the last chance you have to refuse verbally and most certainly. You are halfway through our dressing process, you may not use your arms from here on in, and in the next stage you will lose your speech. The keys to all the locks on your garments are in the hands of your partner, and at this moment, but at no point after, he must surrender them to me to release you. So I ask you to confirm most certainly to me; first, that you wish to continue; and second, that you are in no degree of discomfort which you do not willingly accept. Jennifer, do you wish to go on?”

He stared at her very carefully, and Jennifer was not sure whether this was merely his concern to obtain her consent or the fact that he had a helplessly bound woman standing in front of him, gasping provocatively short breaths. She tested her bonds, twisting gently this way and that to generate any slack, but none came, and the corset did not allow for much movement in any case. She flexed her arms against their bonds, and the leather creaked as it rubbed against itself, the padlocks clicked and rattled as they slid back and forth in their hasps. She moved her feet in tiny steps to the limit of their tether on the floor, listening to the chains rattle and clink, and feeling the unyielding resistance. A tremor verging on orgasm rippled through her as she felt and thought about all she was undertaking and experiencing. She turned to Adam, his face was pensive, waiting for her decision.

“Yes, I want to go on.” She turned to Adam, and added, “Master.”

He tried to look superior and dignified, but there is only so much one can do to restrain a smile. The second man nodded at her, smiled somewhat unusually, and walked away. The next thing she saw was the woman retrieving from the pile of oddments what looked like a large vibrator attached to a trio of leather straps. The woman inserted the vibrator deep inside her, and attached the buckles fore and aft to her corset, two at the front with a neat leather panel between them, and one behind, such that the whole contrivance was much like a thong. The locks were placed and closed. Jennifer squirmed a little at the feeling of invasion, first at the size of the object nestling in her vagina and, she thought she could feel, projecting somehow to touch her clitoris; and second at the person who had mechanically inserted it into her, apparently ignorant of her brief gasp of pleasure as the vibrator was thrust up inside her, rippling against the nerves of her sex. Jennifer bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, she knew that at this moment, aroused and enervated as she was, the briefest hum from that vibrator would collapse her to the floor, and she had no way of stopping herself, let alone standing up again.

When she opened her eyes, the woman was holding a small black device that looked for all the world like the button for a car alarm. Jennifer was anything other than green as far as bondage was concerned, and immediately recognised the remote to the radio-controlled vibrator currently locked inside her.

“I don’t think I could…” was as far as she got before a powerful thrumming sensation burst from between her legs. Her muscles tensed against every one of her bonds, and she gasped to intake breath against the stricture of the corset. Each fettered muscle served to remind her of where she was, what she was doing, and how much she loved all of it. Waves of orgasm battered their way through her body, and she gasped ragged breaths against the quivering tide of sensation. Her legs trembled and gave way, despite her battle to make them support her weight, and she tumbled…

Adam’s arm was around her in a moment, her nostrils filled with the scent of his aftershave, and with the scent of him. He help her upright, smiling gently as she looked up into his eyes. She could hear the chains between her ankles clinking against their tether on the floor as he lifted her slightly and placed her back upon her feet.

“Better now?” he asked.

She looked down at his right hand, where the button to the remote was clasped, apparently in the off position.

“Yes…” another gasp, “Wow, I thought…”

Another powerful vibration turned her legs to water, and she heaved for breath against the corset, but only briefly this time, the vibrations stopped as soon as they had begun. When she looked up at Adam this time, he had a grin on his face.

“But more of that later.” He said, “if you’re good.”

He stepped away from her once he was sure she could stand on her own two feet again, and looked over her shoulder.

“Bit her.” He said peremptorily.

From over her head came a thick leather bar that was pressed into her shocked and gaping mouth. Straps ran under her chin and around and over the back of her head. The ponytail that the woman had combed earlier fitted through a ring in the topmost strap. Jennifer felt the straps being tightened behind her head, but could see little thanks to two large blinkers which extended beside either eye, and kept her field of vision to a narrow band directly in front of her. The bit itself was perhaps an inch in diameter, maybe a little more, and was pivoted against a strap so that when one of the reigns to which it was attached was pulled, the bit would be drawn further into her mouth. Sitting in her mouth as it was, with no tension on the reigns, though slack, it wasn’t going to move anywhere, and the bit pressed gently against the corners of her mouth, drawing her lips back slightly to show the very edges of her neat white teeth. She found herself attempting to chew it and adjust its position with her tongue, all to little avail.

I’ve seen horses doing this, she thought, it’s called ‘champing’. I don’t expect they enjoy it quite as much. There was a short series of clicks behind her as the final few padlocks were applied to the buckles securing her bit in place. Finally, the woman stepped into her field of view.

“Jennifer, you have been bitted and restrained just as every ponygirl to step through our doors, all your bonds are locked onto you, and only your partner, Adam, has the keys.” A jingle on her right made her move her head around to look at him, he was twirling the diminutive bunch of keys around his finger. The woman continued, “Adam will now place the keys into a locker, to which only he has access.”

Jennifer watched as Adam did just that.

“If you wish to continue, and finalise your agreement with us, you must do two things. First, I want you to whinny. You should be unable to speak with the bit in your mouth, but you can communicate by whinnying. Should you need attention for any reason, simply whinny and a stable hand will fetch your Master here to attend to you. Can you whinny?”

“Ehh.” Said Jennifer, the bit was just as much of a bar to legible speech as she had feared it might be.

“Ehh, I aa ii-eee.” She tried again, and then harrumphed in frustration, her locks clinking as she shook herself.

Jennifer took a deep breath, as much as the corset would allow.

“EeeEee.” She whinnied.

“Good.” Said the woman. “Finally, we are about to release you from you tether on the floor. When we do so, and to finalise your agreement to spend the weekend within the rules of our establishment, you must walk over to the locker and press it closed, do you understand?”

“EeeEeeEee.” Jennifer smiled, pleased with herself at the better second effort she had made.

You’re getting into this already.

The taller man from earlier stepped forward and knelt down to unclasp the padlock chaining her to the floor. Timidly, Jennifer took a step forward. The twelve inch chain still held her ankles tight, and now her arms were secured behind her, balance became much more of an issue. At each short step she felt a thin leather strap tapping against the back of her thighs.

They must be the reigns, she thought. My reigns.

It was about ten steps to the locker, and she felt every one of them as the vibrator shifted inside her and brief involuntary muscle movements designed to balance her normal walking merely highlighted the fact that her arms were no longer of any use to her, sheathed in leather and strapped and locked behind her back as they were. The locker was directly in front of her. Carefully, ensuring her balance in the heels was maintained, she nudged the door closed with her nose, pressing her cheek gently against it to get a little more pressure to push it home. With a hollow metal clunk, it snapped closed.

I’m in for the long haul now.

Her reigns were lifted over her head until they ran out in front of her. She looked at Adam as he held her reigns, a stern but affectionate look on his face.

“Come on.” He said, and led her over to a ring on one of the posts, where he looped her reigns round in a loose knot and stepped away out of her vision. Jennifer stared at the loose knot holding her to the tether point on the wall. It was such a feeble knot, if she had the use of just one hand, if her teeth could bite around it, she could undo it and walk away. The bit sat in her mouth, the last bar to her freedom. She could feel the saliva pooling in the bottom of her mouth, and the shallow breaths the corset forced her to take were of no help in preventing its build-up. She realised that she was panting, and that a thin line of drool was working its way down her chin.

Jennifer took a step backwards, drawing her reigns taught, and the pivot on her bit lifted upwards, pressing the bit against the top of her mouth and forcing her head back. Her arms flexed involuntarily, and once again she could hear that delicious creak of immobile leather. She could hear quiet talking behind her, but Adam had tied her very close to the post, and moving her head around to look behind her was impossible. Her body quivered at every sensation, and she realised that she needed to come again.

“EeeEeeEee” she called out to Adam, and he stepped back into her field of vision.

“What is it?”

“I – A- Ah.” She said around the bit.


Her lips narrowed over the bit to try and enunciate more clearly.

“Wi – ray – ah.”

Adam looked at her with a puckish grin. “You want me to turn your vibrator on?”

“Eh.” She nodded vigorously.

He lifted the remote button into her field of view. “Just a little press on this, hmm?”


He took the remote, which had a small metal clip on the side, and fastened it to the left hand side of her bit.

“I think I’ll just leave it there. That button is only for treats, and I don’t think you deserve a treat yet.”

He reached down to her nipple, protruding from the corset and squeezed it tightly. Jennifer shook in her bonds and pulled back to the limit of her tether, trying to get away, but quickly reached her limit.

“You do not ask for treats, I give them to you. Are we clear on that?” there was a harsh tone in his voice, but a glimmer in his eye that was anything but malice.


“Are we clear on that?” he twisted her nipple slightly.


“Hmm.” He gave a short smile, and then reached between her legs to press his hand against the bottom of her vibrator, thrusting it just a few millimetres further into her. The sensation was just enough to make her quiver with anticipation, but no more.

She caught a scent of Adam’s aftershave, he had moved behind her, and his mouth was close to her ear, so close that she could feel the condensation from his breath. Tethered to the wall, she couldn’t turn around to see him. Her head twitched from side to side in spite of herself. His breath was hot against her neck.

“Right, shall we begin the training?” he said.

End of Part One.

If you'd like to see more write to: [email protected]

12.07.12 (originally posted Bondage Stories 05.08.02)

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