Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

Three Steps Part 3

by Dark Marcy

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© Copyright 2012 - Dark Marcy - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF+/ff; ponygirl; leather; bond; boots; chain; corset; armbinder; bit gag; training; bdsm; crop; cart; nipple; tease; climax; outdoors; cons/reluct; X

(story continues from )

Part Three

“Walk on, Jen” said Adam again.

It wasn’t that easy, however. With her arms strapped behind her back, Jennifer was already slightly off-balance. The heels didn’t help in the slightest, and the cart tethered to her waist made setting off a much more complicated affair than simply putting one foot in front of the other. She lifted her right foot a little, but her own weight didn’t carry her forward as it would normally, the cart sat motionless behind her, and by virtue of the clips fastening it to her waist, Jennifer remained stationary also. She felt the cart move a little as Adam shifted his weight on the seat.

“Walk on, Jen.” There was an edge to his voice this time, the reigns smacked against her cheeks as he flicked them.

Little clouds of dust kicked up around her ankles as the heels scrabbled in the dirt for some kind of purchase.


As she yelped in surprise, Jennifer stumbled forward, her weight dragging the cart into motion. Just as she began to steady herself, Adam unleashed another lash against her behind.


The cart was moving at a steady walking pace by now, and Adam swished his riding crop above Jennifer’s head, making her flinch but successfully communicating that he wished this motion to continue. Jennifer’s motion was far from the elegant trotting she had seen Destiny demonstrate a few minutes earlier. The motion of the cart was itself peculiar, at one moment it would seem like there was nothing to pull as it accelerated with her, at the next it would be dragging her upright and she would have to lean into its motion to keep it moving. With each jolting step, Jennifer’s breasts, unsupported by the bodice, gently bounced in syncopation. Preoccupied by a world of minor discomforts, Jennifer began to slow down.


She yelped and tried to turn around to give Adam a reproachful look, but as soon as her head twisted away from her direction of travel, he gave a sharp tug on the opposing reign, steering her head back on course.

“Walk on, girl,” was all he said, giving the reigns another flick.

Muttering under her breath, which earned her another sharp and painful flick of the reigns, Jennifer abandoned all attempts to slow down and continued jogging. Drawing the cart was harder work than she had imagined, and within a couple of minutes thick streamers of saliva began to well from the sides of her bit, running across her breasts and making rivulets along the matt bodice of her harness. Adam made her complete several circuits of the corral, weaving in and out of the other people as the fancy took him. The cart rattled and the padlocks jingled against their buckles, and all the time the snapping groaning sound of tightened leather accompanied Jennifer’s every breath.

She couldn’t seem to breathe, the corset made each breath so shallow that she was reduced to furious panting to keep a decent amount of air in her body. She must have been around the corral ten or twelve times by now, never slowing. The effort quickly became too much for Jennifer, and she again slowed, this time the threat of the whip seemed inconsequential, there was no run left in her at this point. Jennifer felt the reigns go slack, then the cart shook furiously as Adam jumped out of it. Michael was facing her across the corral, and Jennifer was sure she could make out a tiny smile upon his lips.

“You don’t seem to have this straight yet, do you Jen?” Adam said as he once more appeared in her field of vision.

Anne lifted herself down from her seat on the fence and stalked over to the both of them.

“Adam,” she said quietly, “we often get wild ponies here at the Manor, and sometimes it is best to show them that being here, and being trained, has considerable benefits,” she looked into Jennifer’s eyes, “compared with being all alone, in the wild.”

Adam ran has hand through his hair, and gave Jennifer a slightly apologetic look, which hardened slightly as he caught himself.

“Whatever you think best.” He said.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little lesson to give the new trainees a little perspective.” She turned to call down the corral. “Michael, would you harness up Destiny to the cart here and we’ll take Jen here out in the wilds for a little while.”

Little clouds of dust kicked up from the dry floor as Michael jogged over and busied himself unfastening the carabiners from around Jen’s waist and attaching the cart to Destiny. Anne took Jen’s reigns and led her to the back of the cart, where she looped them through a rail and tied them off tightly. All the time Adam kept giving Jen odd glances, as if he was undecided about something. Michael finished harnessing Destiny, she knelt when he commanded, and he clambered into the cart, sitting over to the right of the bench seat. Anne stepped lightly over the 'stays' and sat next to him.

“Stand.” Said Michael, and Destiny did so, her head cocked to one side as she felt that there was more than just her master in the cart.

“Walk on.” He commanded.

Destiny leaned forward and the cart began to follow.

“Wait!” called Adam, appearing to suddenly make up his mind.

Michael pulled back gently on the reigns.

Adam stepped in front of Jen again, and leaned in close to her.

“You’re going to learn to do as you’re told whilst you’re here.” He said to her softly. “And when you don’t, there are penalties.”

He reached out for her breast, and it was at this moment that Jen caught sight the metal jaws of a nipple clamp squeezed between his fingers. There must have been a point or serration of some kind on the end of the clamp, for she felt it bite down onto her protruding nipple much more than a regular clamp would. Another clamp went on, and Adam then clipped a short length of heavy chain between them. She could feel the chain swinging gently to and fro almost immediately.

“The better you behave, the less it will hurt. Do you follow me?”

Jennifer nodded tentatively, already wincing at the rivulets of sensation passing through her breasts.

“Good. Make a leg, Jen.”

One leg angled forward, she bowed low, the short chain swinging away from her chest giving rise to more subtle pains. Adam turned to the two grinning individuals in the cart.

“Don’t take them off.” He told them. “And if she misbehaves, whip her until she cries.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

He flicked the reigns, and told Destiny to “Walk on.”

Jennifer was forced to follow as her reigns pulled taught. Michael steered Destiny out of the corral and turned right onto the dirt track outside. Once they were on the straight, Michael flicked the reigns again.

“Yah!” he shouted, at which Destiny doubled her pace.

Jennifer couldn’t believe the speed this woman could run in heels, whilst she herself stumbled and staggered on behind, any loss of momentum being rewarded by a sharp jolt from the advancing cart to which her reigns were attached, jarring her neck and rattling her teeth. The nipple clamps bounced against her breasts as their chain traced erratic patterns in the air. Again Jennifer found that she couldn’t breathe properly, but this time there was no stopping, no protesting of any kind. Even if she stumbled and fell, Jennifer had the feeling that the startlingly athletic ponygirl in front would simply drag her along in the dirt for a good few yards before stopping, by which time she would have been thoroughly the worse for wear.

There was no time to watch the scenery, and the blinkers prevented it anyway, there was only running, all her attention focused on avoiding the next stumble. Breaths emerged hot and ragged from her fettered mouth, and white webs of saliva were spun out from the sides of her gag, slapping against her bare arms. Jennifer’s ankles screamed out under the pressure of completing this route march effectively on tiptoe. Despite her best efforts not to show weakness, Jennifer found herself simpering and uttering plaintive sobs as the running continued.

Just when she thought that her legs were about to give out from underneath her, Jennifer sensed the cart slowing. For the first time since they had set out from the corral, there was slack in her reigns. The road began to wind upwards, this must have made pulling the cart significantly harder for Destiny, as they dropped down to a steady walking pace. In brief glances between the heads of Michael and Anne, Jennifer could see the thick sheen of sweat on Destiny’s bare shoulders, her legs seemed to be quivering slightly.

With a moment or two to catch her breath, Jennifer took the chance to look at the two Owners sitting in the cart. They were chatting, mildly distracted, out for a pleasant ride in their Pony and Trap, they showed absolutely no signs that they realised the ordeal they had just put Jennifer and Destiny through. The unusual group of four crested the hill and came to a halt. Jennifer looked around, there didn’t seem to be anything special up here. A thick, sturdy tree, and an old stone water trough, that was all.

“Looking a little less rebellious now, aren’t we?” said Anne with a sneer, she had turned in her seat and was sitting with one arm resting on the back of the cart, looking directly at Jennifer.

She reached forward with one finger to touch the layer of sweat coating Jennifer’s bare breasts, and in doing so brushed the left nipple clamp gently to one side. The yowl Jennifer emitted at that point must have been audible back at the Manor

“You must have a very cruel owner to force you to wear those.” said Anne with mock sympathy.

Adam. She could imagine him now, sitting, idly flicking through a magazine in his room at the Manor. Every now and then he would in turn imagine her. He was making a point by causing her to suffer like this, he may have sent her out beyond his sight with two strangers, but it was his choice, they couldn’t do anything to her without his consent, and that included dispensing mercy. He was still in charge.
He would be grinning about it now.


The cart tipped forward as Destiny knelt to allow the Owners to step from the seat. Michael walked back and unknotted her reigns from the cart, then lead her to the very top of the hill, past the water trough and toward the tree. They passed Destiny, kneeling, still breathing heavily from her run. Jennifer felt a little sorry for the girl, having run all this way she was unable to enjoy the view behind her blindfold.

“Stand, Destiny.”

A sharp downward tug on the reigns brought her eyes around to meet Michael’s.

“Forgotten our training already?” he said. “When owners are present you look nowhere but straight ahead, I thought we’d got that clear. Look at my beautiful Destiny.”

He pulled her head around with the reigns gripped together just below her chin. It was true. Destiny, despite being unable to see, was standing to strict attention with her legs tight together, staring directly ahead just as Michael had left her.

“We don’t want to have to carry out your owner’s instructions even before you’ve begun your punishment,” grinned Anne.

Whip her until she cries. That had even surprised Jennifer. She and Adam had both been to extremes in their games before, but it was always at the hands of the other, never strangers. Then again, thought Jennifer, it was Adam who told them to do it.

She glanced Anne up and down.

And she would.

“Stand, Jen.” said Anne, sternly.

Jennifer did as she was told, silently revelling in the tickle of fear she found at the back of her neck. She was lead a little closer to the tree, and as she passed into the shade her eyes adjusted to allow her to see in more detail. Screwed into the bole of the tree with four enormous coachbolts was a metal plate with a d-ring welded to the front of it. Padlocked to the plate was a long coil of light but strong looking chain, and on the end of that was a metal clip.

“Down, Jen.” ordered Anne.

Jennifer lowered herself onto the grass in front of Anne and sat back upon her heels, but was immediately drawn up to her knees by Anne pulling on her reigns. Anne fixed her eyes on Jennifer’s.

“This is the just the first of many ways that we can break you for your owner. It teaches the wild pony that being wild isn’t perhaps as nice as living in a stable and being looked after by kind owners.” She turned her head slightly, but kept her eyes fixed on Jennifer's. “Michael?”

Michael was standing a couple of feet behind the kneeling woman, holding one end of the chain in his hands. He quickly hunkered down and clipped the fastener over the ring on the back of Jennifer’s left high-heel.

“We’ll be back in a while to see if you’re feeling a little more biddable.”

With that, Michael and Anne strolled back to the waiting cart, climbed in, and rolled off down the hill without casting her another glance. The pony and trap diminished slowly into the distance, and as she followed them Jennifer became aware that she could see several similar traps being pulled around the fields and lanes. Up toward the Manor house itself she could see a larger carriage, completely enclosed, being pulled by, she counted, eight bound figures. At this distance it was impossible to determine what gender the ponies were. But then again, she thought, I haven't seen any men trussed up like this since I arrived here.

This last thought stimulated a tickle between Jennifer's shoulder blades, which she struggled vainly to alleviate. As she flexed her arms back and forth, she could feel the flat panel of leather that ran between her shoulder blades twisting, and considered that if she could move it around enough, it might be possible to scratch. Jennifer imagined her back, the thick buckle and padlock at the back of her neck, a short expanse of featureless smooth black leather running like an hourglass between her shoulder blades, and then the top of her armbinder, strapped and padlocked on its own, and in turn lashed to her corset, which continued below in line after line of horizontal leather, metal and locks. A trill of excitement ran down her spine. She chewed on the bit.

Gagged, bound, terrifyingly, exhilaratingly helpless, and completely alone. To indulge the fantastic reality a little more, she pulled and struggled against her bonds, emitting harsh gasps of mingled frustration and pleasure as each strap and lock served their purpose, trapping her inside this bizarre concoction of metal and leather she had invented with Adam a lifetime ago. Rapt in her own indulgence, Jennifer pitched over on one side, rattling and creaking as she rolled a couple of times, the padlocks making their presence felt as each was sequentially crushed between the ground and her body; the nipple clamps, twisting as she rolled, bit into her tender skin, making her squeal in a tangled mix of ecstasy and pain. Her reigns wrapped themselves in disarray around her head.

She lay there for some time, allowing herself all the breath she could muster in the corset, each laboured pant bringing the sensation of unyielding pressure against the base of her ribs and waist. The heavy chain between her breasts clicked gently with each constricted breath, and tilting her head downward as much as her collar would allow, Jennifer could just make out the shiny black and silver contraptions, gripping her flesh with nothing more than a spring and sharp teeth, a ceaseless reminder of her fettered state. Pain, so easily alleviated by just one free hand. Freedom, the most basic freedom of sparing herself discomfort, denied; those things which were so simple to her a few hours ago, now doled out as privileges by her unseen lover. He had the right to inflict pain on her as he chose, and he could administer the mercy of freeing her from it, and she was to be thankful, because she could do nothing else, all power was his.

These thoughts all came crashing down through Jennifer's mind, and as they did so her blood started to rise, her fingers probed and flexed within their prison, her biceps quivered and tensed, strong, but nowhere near strong enough. She began to moan and heave up from the ground, licking and sucking upon the bit between her teeth, tongue probing the air beyond her lips. Her eyes closed, and her legs clamped together, rubbing one against the other bringing only vestiges of sensation upward into her body. The clamps, one moment ago the originators of this divine torment, now felt as though they were part of her, became permanent attachments of sensation. Two bright spots of agonising pleasure inches in front of her. The visceral sensations of her bonds mingled with the helplessness in her mind, and in a brief bright second she was crashing down the waves of an orgasm. She arched up into the air, pressing her head hard against the ground, her heels carving little furrows into the dirt as her midriff was thrust higher. Every muscle in her body constricted, shuddered, and released as the sensations began to abate.

And then, as it was every time she orgasmed whilst bound, there was the return of discomfort. The gradual seeping realisation that her climax did not signal the end of her torment. Sated, exhausted, her muscles and nerves began to protest. She longed to stretch out between blankets and drift away into a satisfied doze, only to be reminded a second later by the clinking of padlock against buckle that she was a long way from anything resembling her bed, and a world away from comfort.

This then was the first wave of frustration, the tingle of self-deprecation. In the few moments of stark reality which exist between the crescendo of one orgasm, and the first mental stirrings of the next, Jennifer felt temporarily ridiculous. Dressed in bizarre clothes, trussed like an animal, had she ever really volunteered for all this? Had she sat with Adam at her desk one long ago night and hurriedly sketched out the designs of her fetters. What kind of being plans its own torture?

Had she quietly thrilled at her powerlessness as strangers had forced this bit between her startled lips?

Reflection, sampling, the continual process of experience and memory, and suddenly she could see herself again. Every glorious bond, every strap, hasp and buckle. Every bone in her corset, every detail of the harness about her head from the ring for her hair to the levers beside her mouth. She had put it all there, drawn and thought it out, in order to be some spectacle for Adam, and in seeing his desire, see herself through his eyes. A beautiful, powerful and yet helpless woman. The things she and Adam would do and allow to be done to each other; asked for, begged for, and willingly given.

For a few moments, Jennifer lay upon the ground picturing herself as though viewed from far away. A black, sensuous, sinuous, shape, expanses of flesh terminating in straps and shiny metal. She remembered the look Adam had given her when she was first led out of the stable, lust, joy and thanks all seemed too much for one set of eyes to express. The wind gusted across the hill top, colder than before, and suddenly Jennifer was faced with the very real problem of finding some shelter. Then there was the problem of getting on her feet again.

Having rolled to point slightly downhill in her earlier throes, Jennifer now found that her head was at the lower end of her body; performing a sit-up in this position normally was extremely difficult, and the corset, which kept her back and midriff strictly straight, made this completely impossible. She lay and stared at the sky for while, letting her breathing slow, trying to find a relaxed way of dealing with her situation. There had been times, she remembered, when she or Adam had left the other bound for days, testing their limits, both as submissive and Dom. Nothing like this, though. They had never left the other completely alone. True, she could remember being hogtied, chained and gagged, lying on her side in a bare room, shrieking with the stricture of her bondage, but in the corner of her mind in all those experiences was the knowledge that Adam would be a few rooms away, and if she knew him at all, watching the monitor camera they had installed in their play room, staring at the clock, determined not to go back to her until the hands had swung around to the time he had allotted, not just for her, but for him as well.

It wasn't the same now. She could cry all she liked, she could struggle and buck, kick and rant. She could give their safety word, which thanks to the fact that she and Adam frequently used gags, was to hum the 1812 overture. Nothing would get her out of this right now. She was alone.

Adam lowered the binoculars and turned to Anne, who was sitting in a high-backed chair against the far wall idly flicking through a magazine.

“What's she doing?” asked Anne, noticing his movement from the window.

Adam seemed to ponder for a moment.

“She's just lying on her back, staring at the sky” he replied.

“Do I take it that means she's finally settled in, then?” asked Anne, without looking up.

Adam scratched his chin, pondering.

“If I know Jennifer, she's a lot of fight left in her yet. She's only been bound now for, what, four hours? It will be at least tomorrow before she's given in. And when she does, you'll have a fight on your hands, her last struggle is always a furious one, I can tell you that.”

“Really?” Anne raised an eyebrow.

A grin crept onto Adam's face.

“One time, not so long ago, she dislocated her shoulder trying to get out of an armbinder I'd put her in. What with getting her out of all the gear, dressing her in something normal and coming up with a decent story for the guys in A&E, she was in agony for an age. It put me off our games for some time, seeing her like that, but she never blamed me.”

“Getting hurt for real can make a lot of people think twice about S&M” agreed Anne.

Adam shook his head. “Not Jennifer, within a week she was begging to start our games again, and when we did I think she noticed I was being more careful with her. In some ways, I think this weekend is more a case of her testing me. She wants to know that she can really depend on me to be harsh when our roles demand it.”

Anne stood and walked the few paces across to Adam, she met his gaze levelly.

“And are you? Ruthless, I mean?”

He looked lazily out of the window, to where a figure dressed mostly in black was struggling to sit upright on the top of a distant hill.

“In some ways, it's me against her,” he smiled puckishly, “and she really hasn't taken account of my competitive streak.”

The sun had gone in, and Jennifer's upper arms, legs and breasts were dimpled with goosebumps trying to ward off the cold gusts of wind to which the hilltop was open. A dull throb came from the nipple clamps, made worse by the chilly air. She rolled onto her side and drew her legs in, even this manoeuvre was made difficult by the corset as she felt her muscles bunching under the unrelenting panels of bone-framed leather.

With the little sideways movement available to her arms, Jennifer rocked herself back and forth, gathering momentum with each pendulous motion, each swing accompanied by a rattle from the chain on her left foot. With one thrust of effort she was able to turn herself all the way over onto her knees. Her face, being the only point of contact she had, was crushed against the floor. Blades of grass flicked in between her parted lips, and the aroma of fresh soil rushed into her nostrils, but she was upright again. The chain between her nipple clamps, cleared of the ground, now swung back and forth, rivulets of pain seemed to originate in her breasts, punctuated by the throb of every swing.

She was on her knees now, prone against the ground but nearly there. Between her buttocks, the rear strap of her vibrator pulled taut with the position she now occupied, and that long forgotten invader writhed gently for her attention. She put those sensations aside, and with a grunt of effort, forced herself into a sitting stance, now looking like a servant attending the side of some immense throne. Jennifer could feel the thin lines of her heels pressing against the bare cheeks of her ass. Getting into a standing position from here was going to be a problem. I could just stand as quickly as possible, and hope that I can balance on the heels she thought to herself. Then again, I can always pitch over on my face and roll down the hill until this chain stops me, and no-one will know.

She looked over at the old oak to which she was chained. The branches were high, and the bark looked rough, but not unbearably so. With awkward, unbalanced movements, Jennifer walked on her knees to the foot of the tree, all the time the length of chain rattling behind her, describing an arc on the ground. Once there, she leaned one shoulder against the bark and pushed herself up with her legs, progressing up the side of the tree in a series of syncopated little jumps until she was once again on her feet again.

Almost immediately her weight was back on them, her feet began to ache, as did her calves. There seemed to be no position she could occupy, standing, lying or sitting, in which some part of her was not in discomfort. She held each foot in turn in the air, and rotated them in a circle. The strap pressed against her ankle as each foot turned, showing its encirclement to be complete. There was no way to kick them off. She looked out toward the Manor House in the middle distance and thought about Adam. It was then she realised that she had absolutely no idea when he intended to come back for her.

' Come on, Jennifer, what's the longest he's ever left you tied-up for?' She asked herself.

Ten hours. Was the unnerving answer.

Jennifer looked down at her left ankle twisting her foot slightly so she could see the chain clipped on at the back of her high heel. It was just that, a clip. It seemed that whoever designed these little settings knew that the protagonists would not have the use of their hands. In fact, Jennifer considered, since they first bound me in this harness back at the stables, I haven't seen anyone use another padlock. It's like an extra little torture. It emphasises your helpless, “animal” condition, because any normal person would be able to free themselves in seconds. She smiled quietly to herself. Just how I would have done it.

The bit was starting to make itself known again. Jennifer could feel it pressing into the corners of her mouth, was aware of its size and presence even when her teeth were not closed around it. Her tongue had long ago ceased to taste the leather it was made from, and now it occurred to her, her mouth has been prised open like this for hours. Her lips and tongue felt dry, rubbery. The long run up to the hill had certainly produced enough saliva earlier on, but now her throat felt sharp and creaky, she needed a drink. Over on the far side of the hill was the water trough she had noticed earlier, and now she looked at it closely, at one end water was running out of a spout, constantly refreshing its contents. A few seconds later, Jennifer was at the limit of the chain on her left heel, seven feet from the water trough. She hopped gingerly forward on her right foot, the left leg extending out behind her as high as it would go. Still four feet away, nowhere near.

Jennifer looked back at the tree, seeing if there was some snag or loop of chain she could free to gain those extra feet she needed. The chain, pulled taught as she leaned forward, snapped and clacked in the air. Jennifer did not dare stretch herself any further forward, with her arms bound out of the way her balance was already abysmal, standing on tiptoe on one high heel was risk enough without trying to bend forward from her waist, and she could see it was futile anyway. With a gentle hop she moved back to the limits of the chain, both feet upon the ground once more, and stared at the trough. Without even thinking about it, she emitted a low whine.

“A pony in the wild does not go drinking from public fountains.” came a voice behind her. Without looking, she knew it was Anne.

“Stand, Jen.”

She brought her feet together and gazed out across the fields.

“Good.” Anne wandered into her vision beside the trough and sat down upon its side. With one cupped hand she scooped a drink from the trough, lifting it to her deep red lips and drinking only the smallest part before letting it fall to the ground beside her.

“Make a leg for your mistress, Jen”

Jennifer bowed low, and chewed heavily upon her bit.

“A wild pony must fend for herself.” continued Anne, rising from her seat and stepping toward Jennifer. “She does not have the benefits of running water, or warm stables,” she moved close to Jennifer's face, her eyes casting over the bands of leather holding the bit inside the girl's mouth “or kind owners.”

“It seems you have just learned your first lesson, that with obedience comes privileges. Have you not?”

Jennifer nodded slowly.

“I wonder whether you really know that, though.”

Anne ran her finger down the strip of leather between Jennifer's breasts, and as she did so she tightened the chain between the nipple clamps, pain began to blaze anew from every millimetre of flesh those sharp teeth could bite onto. Jennifer's breathing started to quiver, but her gaze never moved from the horizon.

“I think, on reflection, that perhaps you need to know what a night in the wild is like”

Jennifer's eyes bulged with horror, and her head began to shake even before the thought had crossed her mind.

“Oh.” she gasped, her tongue thick with thirst.

“Oh..” she struggled to articulate. “n-OH”

“Ahh, leee. N-oh.”

Her vision was starting to water, Anne's image blurred and wavered in the building tears. Anne walked back to the trough and scooped another handful of water, bringing it back to Jennifer, whose entire body was now beginning to quiver.

“I think one night out here will convince you that obeying is worth the effort.”

She lifted the hand of water to Jennifer's lips and unceremoniously tipped it in. Most splashed off the bit, but Jennifer swallowed hungrily all that touched the back of her throat. As soon as her throat had cleared, Jennifer began her pleading once more.

“Ahh, leee. Ah-ah. Ah-ah.”

Anne was doing nothing to hide the fact that she was enjoying this.

“Adam? You want Adam?”

Jennifer nodded furiously, jangling the buckles around her head.

“It is Adam, dear Jen, who told me to leave you out here.”

Once again Jennifer's eyes went wide.

“He thought maybe he would wait to make sure you'd really been broken.” Anne's eyes glimmered with delight “Though he did decide to dispense one small mercy”

Anne reached out to each of Jennifer's breasts, prising the nipple clamp open between thumb and forefinger. As each came away, it stuck to the flesh, the right coloured with small traces of blood. Anne coiled the chain into the palm of one hand, watching the links fold over each other like falling chocolate. She began to walk away.

“He said to tell you that he hopes he is passing your test.”

Immobilised by shock for a moment, Jennifer ran through her mind what those words meant, and found her conclusion. She had sought to test him, to establish that he was still prepared to administer as much as she was prepared to receive, but now that test was in his hands, his rules. She was watching dominoes fall.

“Oh, and one more thing” called Anne over her shoulder, “He said not to worry about how long your training will take, he's extended your stay to a week.”

A surge of panic seized Jennifer, and she ran after Anne, calling out in howls of unarticulated fear. There was a clack, and suddenly she was in the air, twisting to her right, the world hurtling past at the limits of her blinkered eyes; and then a crash, knocking all the breath from her, and she was upon the ground. One leg crooked underneath her, the left held straight by the chain, pointing almost directly at the plate to which she was tethered.

Distant feminine laughter came from out of sight along the path.

Her arms ached, her chest ached, her mouth ached. But most of all her mind reeled at the uncertainty of the next six days. Adam had met her challenge, had met it and was now trying to better it. Lying on her side upon the path, Jennifer began to cry as the sun went down.

12.07.12 (originally posted Bondage Stories 28.07.05)

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