Why?

Intro: I had intended to make part three the final instalment of the story. However, I received a lovely plea from a reader some time ago to incorporate some pony or animal play into it. This then is the result, but the next part will conclude the tale.

Why? Part 3.

Holiday or weekend? Either or maybe both, he did not know, and the nasty little birch certainly wouldn’t bother to tell him. Perhaps the older one would mention it if she appeared, not that it mattered, did it, he thought as he marched around in his endless circle. 

Why should it? Day, week, month, it was all just the same to him. The only real difference was that the inevitable pain the terrible brat would inflict on him would be physical rather than electric. Given a choice, not that he had one, he preferred the intense, electric shock delivered remotely. At least that was instant and sometimes only of low intensity. Although frequently agonisingly painful, there was no lingering after-effect. Nor was the experience anywhere near as humiliating as the physical alternatives when she was at home!

The ridged horribly uncomfortable posture collar denied him any head movement, but he could see her seated at her desk for a few seconds every time the walker revolved in that direction.  Young, petite, blonde, beautiful and utterly evil! Primarily she was focused on her laptop screen, but he knew that she would also be watching him. Occasionally he caught her looking at him as he briefly marched in that direction. His eyes swivelled down as low as possible to counter that horrible ‘head up’ posture enforced by the cruel leather collar around his neck.

Her pretty smooth and absurdly innocent teenage face showing no emotion, no pity, no remorse for the hideous existence to which she had condemned him. A continuous regime of unimaginable pain, discomfort and mind-numbing monotony with seemingly neither rhyme nor reason for his enforced participation! Why him, why this absurdity, this travesty?

Every so often, her gaze might flicker upwards, and for a brief moment, their eyes would meet. His straining down to get a view from a normal perspective rather than confined to ceilings and glass roof panes as permitted by his arched neck.  Hers cool, thoughtful, speculative with a touch of amused cruelty in them! Beautiful sparkling blue impish eyes and yet devoid of any warmth or compassion.

It was these moments he feared most, for alongside her laptop lay the slim bamboo cane. A simple device whose bite always felt far more terrible than those short, intense shocks she delivered remotely via her cell phone. Moreover, the cell phone torture was remote, impersonal, without close human witness other than the all-seeing camera eye.

The little sadist knew how to use that fiendish implement to its utmost, and unlike the remote electric shocks, there was rarely any variance in the agony she inflicted with it. Nor did the damage and attendant pain disappear quickly, as did the remote torture she subjected him to. Less painful but so demeaning and humiliating was her very physical young presence when she used that fucking flexible length of wood upon him.

There were four hooks on the wall near her desk. Left to right from the first three hung a leather tawse, a wooden paddle and a short whip. The fouth was empty. It usually was, for although he’d frequently felt the sting of them all, the last was her regular ‘go to’ fearsome bamboo tool of choice!

Although single, he’d always had an eye for a pretty girl and was no stranger to energetic bedroom activities as a normal, fit, healthy, heterosexual forty-two-year-old man. At least he had been fit and healthy till these evil bitches got their damn claws into him. Now he felt weak, continually hungry, emaciated, fatigued and, to an extent, broken both in body and spirit. Hell, he didn’t even know how old he was any more, did he? He might be forty-three by now; might he in this crazy timeless, tortured limbo he now occupied.

His very masculinity, although diminished, was part of the reasons he loathed the physicality of her torture. Her fragrant presence, her youthful, sexy looks such as his straining eyes could see, the very warmth of her lith young body when she stood near to him, the possessive touch of her small hand upon his body. His caged penis reacted every time, much to his disgust as frustration overrode manly pride and self-control. He loathed himself at such times for his weakness in mind and body, nor were such incidents without consequences.

The little bitch had the eye of an eagle, and nothing escaped her notice, certainly not that sort of helpless, impotent twitch from his imprisoned manhood, a reaction she was very familiar with from the male sex to her appearance. Unfortunately for him, his circumstances differed significantly from those travellers she found it amusing to tease provocatively and visually flirt with, say on the crowded underground transport network.

Those lucky bastards were immune to any reprisals on her part, but here in her lair, she had a swishy ‘cure’ to hand for those ‘naughty boy bits’ that couldn’t control themselves, and it amused her to use it. He’d felt that merciless cure on the exposed tip of his penis or on his ball sac on way too many occasions, hadn’t he?

Candi by name, candy for the eye via looks and figure coupled with a blatant exhibitionist nature. The blonde teenage sadist was guaranteed to arouse lustful thoughts even in a helpless demasculinised captive such as himself.  The wanton little bitch was excelling herself that morning even by her brazenly cruel and malevolent standards.

He’d been released from his cell and led upstairs, as usual, following obediently along on the end end of Madams leash to the hated walker and commenced his pointless daily routine as she set the horrible machine in motion. Before doing so, she’d picked up the cane and poked him sharply in the ass with the tip.

“High steps, Tiptoe, high steps just as I like to see. You’ve been wearing those sexy new six-inch heels for a week now, so you’ve had plenty of time to get used to them. I want to see those knees raised high, thighs straight and parallel to the ground.  You know the routine scumbag. If I see you miss so much as a millimetre out on one single step, your skinny ass will be toast, get me?”

No answer required, not that he could anyway with a large ball gag in his mouth. The walking machine whirred into motion; he raised his right knee and began high stepping under her critical gaze. Round and round, knee up and then down, round and round. Candi watched him for a few minutes; cane menacingly poised, then grunted, and from the corner of one eye, he saw her disappear out of the room.

Five minutes or so later, he heard the tap-tap of metal-tipped heels on the tiled floor. He squinted sideways and down. After all the months of captivity with his head restricted by that merciless collar, he’d become proficient in catching glimpses of what was happening around him. He saw the older bitch dressed as though to go out. She crossed to the desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper, and then on his fourth rotation, he lost sight of her, and the sound of heels receded from the room. Another ten minutes had perhaps passed when he heard more sounds from the outside hall.

Candi was returning, but by the sounds, no longer alone. She was swearing and struggling with someone who was evidently putting up something of a fight, another new victim presumably. A moment later, she appeared, dragging a much taller dark-haired girl on the end of a leash. Usually, she would have the leash in one hand while the other wielded one of her painful toys to encourage, but this one, whoever she might be, was obviously a newcomer and not inclined to be acquiescent in any way!

“Fucking bitch”, Candi snarled as she dragged the girl past him and momentarily loosed one hand from the leash to reach up and grab at a dangling strap to snap it to the girl's posture collar quickly. Only just in time for the captive threw herself to one side, pulling the leash from her hand but was brought up short by the strap affixed to her neck before she’d taken more than two paces.

“Bitch, fucking bitch. I’ll teach you to behave, bitch!” Candi shrieked in anger, clearly enraged by this show of rebellion and disrespect. “Have you learned nothing in the last week, you big stupid cow?”

She stood panting, glaring, hands-on-hips as the pair of them circled before her. He recognised the danger signs in her expression and doubled his efforts to impeccably high step in the silly yet graceful way she demanded so’s to divert that rage well away from himself. Her anger was inevitably channelled via some painful instrument of torture to the helpless skin of a captive, and he’d suffered too often. It was neither gentlemanly, brave, nor the least bit chivalrous he knew,  but please, he thought, let this new girl suffer, not him!

Just for once, he noted she’d made a mistake. The newcomer, probably by force of circumstances, had been added to the walker immediately in front of him rather than behind. For the first time, he had a good view of the unfortunate who’d been sentenced to share his pointless misery. The downside was that he immediately felt a twitch in his captive penis as he gazed at the struggling shapely statuesque figure before him.

The tall girl struggled to maintain her balance as the wretched impartial mechanical device pulled her along via her the tether to her neck. A whirring sound temporarily distracted him, and he realised that Candi had moved to her desk and was using the console to raise the two unused dangling straps and adjust that securing his companion to a suitable height.  Then she stepped back into view, a cruel triumphant sneering smile on her face. She stood there with her arms across her chest, watching them for a few more revolutions, then with another grunt disappeared again.

The girl in front was visibly struggling, and once she lost her footing completely to be dragged for a second by that horrible machine until it helpfully paused and her franticly scrabbling feet managed to get a grip as she regained her equilibrium. He could see why she struggled. He’d had similar problems the first time he’d had to walk in the awful uncomfortable three-inch stiletto heels the little bitch had strapped to his feet.

His shapely new companion was wearing glossy pink leather knee-high pony hoof boots tightly strapped to her lower legs. He’d had to wear those horrible things a few times himself as an occasional change from the ghastly stilettos at the whim of his young owner. He knew how difficult it was to adapt to that toes and ball of the foot, only arched heel footwear quickly. Likewise, the heavy metal horseshoe clunks accompanying each footfall as you staggered around. The fucking stilettos were a nightmare, but at least he had a heel, even if it was pencil thin!

His eyes were beginning to water as he continued to squint downwards the better to see. Although it meant peering, it also created a certain degree of double vision. It was a change, though, to be able to see a fellow sufferer in front of him rather than to hear and sense them behind him. Pink was the colour that assailed his eyes, pink and a shade of tomato red!

Images slowly clarified as the two of them followed the circular path dictated by the heavy motor powering the cross beams above them. The girl was tall and would have approached the six-foot mark he estimated without the aid of those awkward boots, which added a few more inches to her height. Broad-shouldered, slender proportional to her height and wide-hipped with long, very long sexy muscular legs. Her long straight brunette hair was caught in a high arched ponytail and hung down her back to where her arms were held horizontally across her back, strapped into a pink leather binder.

That constricting corset around her midriff was also pink, as were the numerous leather straps around her head and the cone through which her long ponytail was drawn. In part, he surmised that slender waist probably owed a lot to that restrictive tight corset, and he knew who would have ensured it was so tight. The same little demon who tightened the one he permanently wore!

The girl was moaning continually into whatever they’d gagged her with, and he could see her head shaking and shoulders writhing as she tried to free herself from the restrictions placed upon her. Fat chance, he thought. How much damn energy had he squandered, trying to do the very same for so many weeks in the early days of this meaningless captivity!

Her legs above the knee boots to her lower thighs were nicely tanned, as were her shoulders and the bits of her upper arms that he could see. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a pair of large breasts peeking out above that corset, bouncing so titillatingly as she walked. Her face almost obscured by straps and a bar across her mouth, but he judged that she could not be that old—mid-twenties perhaps, poor helpless fellow captive.

The vivid, angry red tomato hue that coloured her buttocks and upper thighs did not surprise him in this house of pain but what did was the unusual absence of any marks. Whip, cane, crop all left bruised, battered and bleeding flesh in their wake, and he had seen and felt such enough times. He only had to look in the big mirror should it be present as he marched around to glimpse the lasting traces of the damage wrought upon his body by the fiends who controlled his destiny and one in particular!

He felt his bent penis twitching as he continued his appraisal, particularly of those prominent unrestrained breasts jiggling so delightfully. Breasts that he realised were the same angry red hue as her thighs and bottom. Nothing was sacred in this house of hell, be it balls, cock or tits! Everything was fair game for those two bloody sadists.

“I hope you’re not relapsing into lazy habits, Tiptoe”, a sweet but chilling voice sounded from the doorway. “It looks like those sexy high steps I so love to see are tailing off. Perhaps you need some encouragement to curb your laziness, eh? Maybe a painful little pepper upper or two, or ten to take your mind off this filly’s big udders you’ve been ogling!”

Instantly he switched his attention back to maintaining his rigid stepping posture, his gaze fixed rigidly straight ahead—step and step and step. Candi was standing in the open doorway watching the pair of them, and he did not like the look of what she was holding in her hand, not one bit.  An oval rubber slapper that she was tapping against the palm of her other hand and a long narrow rectangular one with a wooden handle dangled from a thong around her left wrist.

He knew instantly what had turned his companion's skin that red colour. He’d felt the bite of those slappers more than once, usually what the bitch mockingly called ‘an aperitif’ to prepare for her main course. Not that such was needed. When used with enough skill and force, those flat rubber surfaces were as painful as hell but did relatively minor physical damage compared to her other ‘toys’. His encounters with them had been brief, merely used as a warm-up, to tenderise him for more destructive implements of agony!

However, he could imagine the pain prolonged use would bring, and from the look of the girl's body, the little bitch had subjected her to hours of torment.

Candi strolled casually into the room and stood watching them, still absently tapping the slapper on one palm. Then she moved to her desk, waited for a second, then switched the walker off, bringing them both to a welcome but unexpected abrupt halt. She put the two rubber implements on the desk and picked up her cane, and approached them, flexing it ominously.

“This,” she said, releasing one end and poking one of the girls breasts hard with its tip, “is a cane, my big filly. It is a simple but excruciatingly painful device, as that fucker behind you well knows!” She surveyed the girl who was making angry but unintelligible noises. “It sounds like this” she raised the implement and swished it downwards, producing the characteristic whistling noise he so feared. She took a couple of paces and stood directly behind him, and he sensed what was coming.

“Or like this”, the instrument slashed down and across his buttocks, making him jump and yelp into his gag; the meaty sound of the wood biting into his flesh sounded unusually  loud to his ears. However, he was more preoccupied with the sudden agonising band of fire across his rump. Candi giggled and moved around to face the girl flexing the cane once again.

“You may wonder perhaps my big uddered filly why I have not chosen to use it on your wretched hide during the past seven days in our little play sessions down in the punishment room. Why not, indeed?”

He saw the girl struggle wildly and stamp her booted feet up and down in frustration, the metal horseshoes sounding very loud on the stone tiled floor.

Candi giggled and took a step closer, looking directly upwards at the much larger girl towering above her. “Dear me, how very wild we still are….whooooo, easy there, girl.”She jumped backwards to avoid the heavy boot that kicked out at her.

“Now that was very naughty”, she chided. “If I were not constrained, you would feel my flexible bamboo friend here kissing that fat pony rump of yours. Count yourself lucky I’m not peeling the skin of your big butt right now,” she broke off and started laughing. “Oh, I wouldn’t waste my energy in being so angry if I were you, Pony. After all, you cannot do anything about your, er predicament, shall we call it. A great big strong multi-marathon runner like you, helpless in the hands of little Candi, eh Pony!”

The girl continued to twist and turn in her struggles and stamp her feet as well as snorting with rage and muttering mostly unintelligible gibberish. He thought he could discern the odd words such as bitch, fucking and crazy repeated among the muted gabble.

He watched Candi as she stood still, automatically flexing that terrible cane and looking at her victim with that nasty little self-satisfied smile on her face that he knew so well. What devilry was she planning next, he wondered. More importantly, would it involve him?

*****

Candi switched the walker back on and carelessly tossed the cane down on her desk and saw the note that Hetty had scribbled for her a little earlier laying on her laptop keyboard.  ‘Hey Cinderella, just had a phone call from the ugly sisters. They have decided to cut short their extended boating holiday. Apparently, most of the passengers disembarked in Sydney to fly home, and a whole new crowd arrived for the homeward bound part of their world cruise.  I gather the old dears find the new company less congenial than their predecessors, plus it sounded like they are getting bored, so they intend to jump ship in Auckland, fly to Paris and then London. Looks like you will lose your big unruly playmate earlier than intended! H’.

Candi frowned and looked at it for a few seconds wondering if that changed anything. She slowly sat down, thinking hard, then scrunched the paper into a ball and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. Ok, so the gruesome twosome were heading home ahead of schedule, no big deal, better in some ways if that was the way the cookie was going to crumble. All the ingredients were ready to bake said cookie, so what did it matter when the oven got switched on?

A clatter behind her made her turn around as the hum of the walkers motor stopped for a moment. Stupid lanky bitch had got her hoofs in a tangle again. Well, she’d have all the time she needed to learn to control those long legs soon, wouldn’t she? The motor resumed as the girl recovered, prompting  Candi to reach out and dial the speed down a little.  There was nothing to do with feeling merciful in her action, merely that she wanted her merchandise in pristine condition, ready for delivery: no marks or bruises, no strains or injuries of any kind. That was part of the contract; otherwise, the big animals hide would have looked a lot different!

Her cell phone beeped as it received a message. She glanced at it then tapped a quick response with one small finger capped by a sparkly pink nail. One pm fine, you know the entry routine. Swing around and back up towards the door. You can walk her straight into the box quite easily. Kisses, Candi. Ps: wild as they come, and she kicks!

Interesting, coincidence or fate? Both or neither, not that it mattered a fuck, but an apt cue for a bit more fun, she thought, rising to her feet, cell phone in hand. She watched the two captives walking around and around for a half dozen revolutions delighting as she always did in the power she had over such creatures, then flicked the off switch on the walker console once more and picked up the oval rubber slapper.

That right buttock was way too tempting a target, so it felt the full force of the flat rubber as she paused for a moment before resuming her position facing the squirming agonised angry girl but safely out of kicking range this time. Her phone beeped again.

NP! Both those silly traits will be swiftly corrected! ;)

Candi grinned and held the phone up so that the girl could read the message, then laughed at the puzzled bewildered expression in those angry green eyes. Time for a few home truths, perhaps she thought, thrusting the phone into the back pocket of her abbreviated denim shorts.

“Haven't a clue, have you, Pony?” she asked. “not a clue, you silly over-sized irritating creature!” A thought occurred to her, making her retrieve the phone and swiftly sort through her photo albums till she found the right pictures. “Recognise anyone then, sweetie. Someone you know or perhaps knew might be more accurate, besides little old me, of course. Think of someone who used to wear those awful black glasses with thick lenses,” she laughed and held the phone up. Twice more, she repeated the action waiting till recognition and understanding dawned in those eyes that changed from bewildered anger to dawning horror.

“That’s right; you got it, Pony!” Candi laughed again and glanced down at the pictures that Hetty had taken one fun evening. A keepsake of one of their first intimate threesomes. Poor, plain prudish myopic Mary had been with them what, three days or so before that night.  The first photo showed the sad, pear-shaped, pathetic little bitch strapped to the whipping bench; her well thrashed plump bottom displayed various colours from numerous brutal beatings. The second taken from a slightly different angle was similar, but this time Mary’s face could be seen better and standing to one side, cane in hand, stood the grinning nude figure of Candi. The third showed Candi laying back on a large bed, cane still in hand, legs spread apart. Mary had her head half-turned to the camera, face wet with tears and her tongue sticking way out as she crawled near the waiting furry patch between those bent legs.

“Little virgin bitch was pretty damn useless as a clit licker”, Candi remarked as she put the phone away. “No doubt the old American bitch we sold her to has improved her clumsy efforts somewhat! That's right, and you heard correct. I said sold and sold I meant. Get the picture now, dumbo? Things starting to become a little clearer, Missy ex-PA future wise, eh?”

A thought struck her, surely not! She surveyed the girl’s expression; what she could see of it was now less one of anger and more one of panic and dawning horror. Maybe the big cow was more stupid or more likely, perhaps less worldly than she’d assumed?

“You don’t get it, do you? She quizzed, tilting her head to one side. “A degree in what was it Sociology and Medieval History but thick as two planks about some things. Here’s me calling you pony and got you all kitted out, and you have not a clue, not a clue, have you?”

The lack of comprehension in those wide green starring eyes answered her question. Anger was returning, horror, disbelief, outrage but understanding, no. Candi giggled delightedly. This was going to be much more entertaining than she’d initially thought! Enough to make her feel even randier than she was already. She thought about fetching a vibrator but dismissed the idea at once. Why keep a dog and bark yourself even if it did mean a substantial change in routine for someone. Well, even the most pathetic dogs got treats occasionally, didn’t they?

Ten minutes later, she was ready. Tiptoe had been freed from the walker and knelt by the big sofa with his ball gag removed and cautioned to keep still till he was required. The dumb schmuck would probably prove even less proficient than plain little Mary unless he’d been an adept oral pleaser of girlfriends, but somehow she doubted that! He wasn’t the type, but so what? She might be young, but considerable experience had taught her that a warm wet tongue, even an inept untutored one, was way better than any buzzing impersonal plastic or rubber device.

Besides, there were simple but effective painful methods that were amusing to administer that would quickly encourage such tongues to more outstanding and energetic efforts, were there not? Considerably more fun than merely replacing fading batteries in a sex toy!

Ipad in hand, she returned to her ex-colleague, amused to see that the silly bitch was still struggling as she vainly attempted to free herself. Foolish girl, did she think that she could escape from the tight, restricting harness that Candi had bound her in after yesterday evenings pro-longed session with the rubber slappers!

“Time for a little, a little adult education, shall we say,” Candi told her. “Not so much the birds and the bee’s, that’s old hat because I know that you've fucked with more than one guy, assuming office gossip is correct, of course. “ She paused and smiled. “Quite the slut weren’t you if everything mouthy Tina says is to be believed”.

Wary of being kicked, she moved around behind the girl,  grasping her around the waist with the hand that held the iPad and used her other hand to find and finger the tight leather crotch strap that covered the girls recently shaven vagina.  She stroked the flesh on either side of the strap for a second, then pressed hard, making her victim squeak into the gag.

Candi giggled. “My, my, we are sensitive down there, aren’t we, or is it that nice fat ribbed dildo I left in there for you to keep warm. It slid in so easy, didn’t it slut? I hardly had to use any force, well, not too much. Well practised, are we, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure the next one is a lot more textured and challenging size-wise!” She broke her hold, laughing as the girl suddenly became franticly animated again.

Candi returned to face the writhing angry girl and slid a finger across her iPad. “Where were we before I got you all excited? Ah yes, education, let us call it fetish education on one particular aspect of such inclinations. In your case, to become a permanent participant in the more extreme aspects of the ponyplay scene. Let us see what Wikki has to say,” She held the iPad up to the girl's face.

“(BDSM) A sexual fetish involving being treated and outfitted like a pony, or treating and outfitting one's partner as a pony”, Candi read aloud. “Hmm, not all that enlightening; let us be more specific and try ponygirl instead. A little better,” she said, holding up the device again and reading the screen. “A woman, usually submissive, who takes the role of a pony; this typically includes wearing tack such as a bridle and bit”.

Candi smiled sweetly. “Ring any bells bondage wise yet? Tack, bridle and bit, eh girl or should I say pony,” she laughed. “I could add harness corset and hoof boots to the list, and of course, we mustn't forget that ponies don’t have hands or arms, do they. How frustrating for them; how's that armbinder I strapped on your forelegs? Not too uncomfortable, I trust? She finished insincerely and laughed. “Do let me know if you want me to scratch your nose or something, won't you. Such a simple thing you used to take for granted, I’m sure and yet now like a million other little tasks, FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE PONYGIRL!” she finished with a malicious shriek spittle flying from her glossy pink painted lips.

Candi took a couple of quick paces forward, rubber slapper in hand and delivered three swift hard strokes to the girls left buttock, making her jump and wriggle and shriek into her gag or bit as realisation began to dawn in her disbelieving mind. A moment later, Candi was back in front, calmly looking down at her iPad as though nothing had happened. The muted sobs and tear-filled eyes of the girl next to her were almost irrelevant, so impervious had she become to her own impulsive sadistic actions.

“You might find these images interesting, even informative. Ponyplay is mostly a consensual activity practised by couples and the like. The first few pictures show that. It's also quite a popular theme in some fetish publications and men's magazines. I’ve added in a few pics to show the gear but note how ridiculously slack a lot of the harness stuff is on those glossy models, at least to the eye of someone more familiar with just how tight those straps should be pulled!” she snorted and added, “not a whip mark on them either!”

She was about to hold the iPad up when something caught her eye, and she strode angrily across the room to deliver a resounding smack to the side of Tiptoes head, knocking him sideways.  Candi dragged him back to his kneeling position, and bitch slapped him several times. “Kneel there, pig and face that sofa and don’t you dare let me catch you watching things that don’t concern you. You'll pay for your impudence later, wretch!”

She kicked him hard and then returned to the girl, her rage at his foolish impertinence already gone so quickly could her mood change, but she never forgave, never forgot, never compromised, and he would suffer her wrath later!

“As I was saying before, that asshole diverted my attention; take a peek at these, and then we’ll move on to the second batch, a more enlightening selection, I think you will find,” Candi said, holding up the iPad again and starting a slide show. Twice around the block, and by then, I’m sure you can relate your, er, new wardrobe to what you are seeing.”

Candi watched the girls eyes widening as she took in the pictures and inwardly giggled to herself. Just you wait, Pony, you’ve not seen anything yet. Not a well-whipped bottom in sight, let alone anything else approaching your coming daily reality!

She kept her eyes on the far mirror, watching Tiptoe to see if he dare disobey her command, half hoping he would but knowing that he wouldn’t. No, the slacker had been under her thumb and her whip too long for that. Still, there was no accounting for stupidity, and given how mind-numbingly boring the regime was that she’d condemned him to, there was always a chance he might do something silly! He’d sing for his supper later anyway, no matter what.

“I think you will find this third set of pictures very educational, although perhaps rather disturbing. They are all drawings or CGI art by necessity because it would be challenging to produce photos of the activities depicted legally. A little matter shall we say of nonconsensual participation by those ‘two legged’ animals wearing the tack and harness.  The last half dozen are real, and I stress real photos, so keep that in mind and pay particular attention to them.” Candi laughed as she started the show. “Don’t worry; I won't be asking questions afterwards. I will provide some answers, though, and on second thoughts, I would worry if I were you!”

Candi watched the girl intently as one picture of a hapless ponygirl toiling under lash or crop replaced another. All the foolish struggles and noise had momentarily stopped, she noted, but how long would that last, she wondered.  Not long, and it was likely to be renewed full force perhaps as realisation and possibly panic set in. She smiled inwardly at that thought.

Her perception was correct. There was a moment of silence as she lowered her arm and stopped the slideshow, then the restrained figure erupted into frantic movement and accompanying muted squeals of horrified verbal outrage. The bulging incredulous eyes flared with fury but at the same time betrayed a certain undisguised horror and one leg lashed out in a vain attempt to reach her tormentor.

Candi jumped back laughing, for it was very amusing. ‘As if’, she thought, waiting for the outburst to cool down, which it quickly did. Miss fucking over-enthusiastic editor of reports wasn’t stupid after all. No point in trying to scream and shout when you can’t. No point in trying to grab and throttle someone when you have no arms available. No point in trying to kick someone out of reach. All she could do was snort, glare and stamp her new hoofs, which probably wasn’t very satisfying and certainly not very threatening!

“Now now, Pony, calm down. I haven't got to the best bit yet! Candi told her soothingly, then paused and added in an ominous tone raising the rubber slapper. “Or do you need a little reminder to calm you down? Another meeting perhaps between those big fat tits and my rubber friend here, a short sharp recap as to which of us is in charge here, eh? No, I thought not!”

Candi sauntered forward, eyeing the bigger girl speculatively. Pity, she mused; after all, it had been so much fun the other night, slowly turning those prominent milky white udders a lovely shade of red. Even better the way the bitch had begged and grovelled for her to stop. A bit of a comedown for Miss high and mighty, oh-so patronising, I'm on the executive floor above you. Arrogant trollop!

She stood looking up at the girl for a second or two, challenging her to rebel while considering her next move. Regrettably, she’d have to curb her sadistic desire to inflict further physical torture; otherwise, she’d have had no hesitation in making the bitch dance and sing as she’d been doing so delightfully since her arrival. Silly bitch, fancy being stupid enough to accept her offer of a drink after work, so’s to bury the hatchet as it were over their numerous past little tiffs! Hetty was so adept at arranging for such idiots to disappear off the radar as it were!

A pity, this one wasn’t destined to hang around longer. They could have had so much ‘fun’ together, but business was business, and Hetty had only said yes because she could arrange an immediate sale. Pick up was scheduled for tomorrow, so hopefully, some of that slapper induced red skin colouring would have toned down a few shades; otherwise, the buyer might not be too happy.  Then again, a little deeper skin colouring shouldn't really count as ‘marks’, should it?

Candi’s looked upward to meet and hold those moist helpless green angry glaring eyes for a moment, then she smiled and kissed the tip of one finger and used it to tap the girl on the nose gently. “Back in a second for the grand reveal, Pony, be good for me. Don’t run away,” she giggled and walked to where Tiptoe still knelt.

“Kneel straight, upright, don’t slouch”, she commanded, emphasising the order with another swift kick to his ribs. “I think you are beginning to take the piss, boy. I find your attitude of late lacking the degree of respect to which I am entitled” She watched him make a minor adjustment to his posture noticing the way he trembled at her nearness.

Her body spasmed almost in harmony as a clit tingling thrill shot through her body. Jeez, just the thought of the power she had over a man more than twice her age sometimes almost brought on an involuntary orgasm. No, not quite yet, though, she thought maliciously. Another little touch of humiliation perhaps to further egg the pudding for both of them.

“Hot in here, isn’t it?” she remarked to the room at large, shrugging out of her sleeveless top and casually dropping the flimsy garment on to Tiptoes head. “Better”, she announced, “and another treat for you boy,” she added, reaching down and pulling it over his face. “Enjoy the warm, sweaty scent of your owners beautiful young tits!”

Candi spun on her heel and returned to the walker, flexing her shoulders and brazenly flaunting her trim upper body. She rarely wore a bra and then usually only a sports bra at the gym. Her conical perky young breasts were on the small side, perfectly formed, and firm enough to forgo any need for additional support, unlike that leggy filly with her big udders jutting over the top of her tight corset.

Oh, the temptation, she thought, moistening her lips with her tongue. How much fun she’d had making the filly squeal when those tits had felt rubber. She eyed the red-hued orbs with the large darker areola and relatively small nipples wistfully. How fine they would look bouncing about when the filly was whipped into a gallop which reminded her. Oh, bother!

“Now then,” Candi told the girl holding up the iPad she’d just had to retrieve from the sofa arm. “If your tiny brain can recall what I said a few minutes ago, I told you to pay particular attention to those few photos at the end, did I not?”  She paused and emphasised her question by giving the nearest nipple a hard flick with her finger end and held the device where they could both see the screen.

“Apologies for the quality. My phone camera is not that brilliant, and it was a dull day. Technically I shouldn’t have taken any photos by request, but I always was a naughty girl, so I sneaked a few when no one was looking. Hetty and I had an enjoyable visit to one of her customers a few months ago. You know Hetty, of course. The lovely lady who drove you here, oh but of course you were way too sleepy to remember much of that, weren’t you” Candi giggled and flicked the small nipple again.

“Oh, silly me. Of course, you know her. How could you not after the sexy old bitch pawed you all over while I was introducing your bum cheeks to my rubber slappers for the first time. My how you wriggled when she put a couple of fingers up your tight twat” Candi giggled and stroked the prominent hairless mons. “Much prettier down here, aren’t we, since I shaved off all that nasty animal fur!”

Candi laughed. “Animal! Such an appropriate word, is it not? Animal, so descriptive, so apt for that is what you are now, sweetie, just a helpless, dumb animal. How fitting that Miss high and mighty, Miss better than the rest of us, Miss piss people off P fucking A, is now nothing more than a dumb animal” Candi finished with a shriek and backhanded the hairless mound with a hard slap and hastily stepped back as to avoid an angry boot.

“Naughty, you’ll strain a fetlock kicking out at empty air like that, stupid pony.” Candi teased. “Now, if you try that again, I will roast your rump animal, so think on it” She moved to stand near but to one side and raised the iPad once more. 

“Anyway, returning to the main subject, let me elucidate, what a lovely word that is? If you are too fucking ignorant to recognise the term, let me elucidate or explain a little bit more about these illicit pictures. LOOK AT THE SCREEN SLUT!” Candi screamed and slapped the nearest breast hard enough to leave finger marks on the soft quivering flesh.

“Take your eyes off this again, and I will lose my temper that I promise and then things will get nasty fast, real nasty bitch!” she snarled. “You have not felt the cane yet, and if you think that slapper was bad, then wait till your fat ass gets stripped by white-hot bamboo!”

“You saw all the artwork pictures, of course, quite different, weren’t they from the happy smiling faces of the ‘pony players’ in the first batch or those pristine posed glamour models of the second set. None of them looked unhappy or bore the slightest trace of a single whip mark as those in the artwork did! So what,  perhaps you are wondering? What has all this to do with me? Maybe you are even stupid enough to be thinking  as to when will this bizarre farce end, thinking of what you might say to the police or whoever, eh animal?” Candi smiled mockingly.

“Although I’d have thought the penny would have dropped by now even for a dumb cunt like you! Want me to spell it out, dumbo? Look again at this photo I took down at Susan’s little place deep in the country when we visited. That’s her stable from the outside—big, old and rather draughty. But secure, oh my, so very secure!”

Her slender finger tapped on the tablet. This one I took inside looking along a row of stalls, a little dark, but you can clearly see the heads of two of Susan’s ponies…” she paused. “The  two-legged variety, of course.” Candi paused to glance at the girl. Yep, that one had registered. “The first one, the girl is called ‘Hooker’ a bit on the plain side but with a muscular physique. Well suited to the stable Susan told us. In the wild, she was in the US Military.  Twenty-three years old and only partially broken. The stupid creature tried to head-butt me when I petted her, would you believe!” Candi raised her eyebrows and sighed in mock amazement.

“This next picture was the only ‘official’ one that I was allowed to take as a keepsake. Susan was a bit pissed off by the animal's unruly behaviour to a guest, so she invited me to apply a touch of remedial discipline by way of an apology. This shot shows Hookers rump ten minutes or so later. Colourful, is it not? Oh, and let me zoom in a bit. Look, you can better see all the scars, welts and bruises of Susans regular training discipline sessions as well as my humble fresher additions.”

Candi smiled. “A little stubborn, Susan told us, but that was no problem. They all learned eventually under the tutelage of her whip. I forget the ponyboy's name in the last stall probably because I was still all fired up from what she let me do to Hooker. My how I would have loved to have spent more time with that rebellious filly!” she finished with a regretful sigh.

Candi raised her eyes and then her free hand to tap the girl sharply on the nose that protruded between bridle straps. “Pay attention, Pony; I wouldn’t want you to miss anything!” She turned as a muffled sneeze sounded from behind.

“I hope that was clean and dry, Tiptoe? If  I find your damn snot all over my pretty top, I will be exceedingly angry. Ponygirl here has just seen a picture of what happens when I get angry, but you, of course, know the consequences only too well!”

She glared at him for a moment then turned back to the girl. “Now then, this picture is much better quality-wise because we were outside. That’s Hetty and Susan, by the way, with their backs to us. Susans’s the one in the white shirt, boots, and riding pants plus the obligatory crop, of course,” Candi chuckled. “A lovely lady about Hetty’s age but as you can see, not much taller than me. A couple of inches maybe, but oh my, so utterly commanding! Whip or not, I’m sure I’d jump a mile if she barked an order at me!”

Her free hand reached up to point at the screen. The ponygirl there that they are looking at is called Harlot, quite an old one compared to young Hooker. Look at those big saggy udders and that mane of grey blonde hair. The figures still not too bad overall, but I expect that’s down to plenty of exercises plus that punishing waist corset. Those muscular legs have certainly benefited from being worked hard almost every day for fourteen years on track or treadmill!”

Candi giggled. “Yes, you did hear correct, Pony, fourteen years. Imagine that? Fourteen years that, mare has been living day after day in a stall at Susan's stable. Thirty years old when Susan acquired her and now, well, probably looking more like a sixty-four-year-old. Two-legged ponies don’t tend to age all that well, apparently, for some reason.  I wonder why?” Candi winked suggestively at the hapless girl in front of her.

“You can see that she was harnessed to that little two-seater carriage. I had my doubts, but Susan assured us that she was still quite capable of pulling the two of us at a reasonable trot for a couple of miles. Susan was quite explicit. ‘Use the carriage whip on her if she starts flagging. Age is no excuse for indolent behaviour. I know her capability, so don’t let the lazy creature delude you. Don’t spare her and use it hard; her hide has toughened up a mite over the years, but she still reacts to a good thrashing!’

I don’t know about being toughened up. I naturally took the whip and Hetty the reins, and she seemed perfectly responsive to me when I used it upon her. I heard every squeal she made or tried to make through her bit at every stroke. Look at the following pictures. I sneaked them when we paused to let the ponies get a breather. Susan was busy fussing with her mount showing  Hetty something.

A close up back and front view of Harlot. Just look at that bottom, those thighs and those saggy udders. Jeez, how many times have they felt Susans whip? Scars upon scars upon scars.  Fourteen years of crop and the lash, just imagine” Candi paused and reached up to gently pat the girl's forehead. “Silly, of course, you won’t need to imagine anything, will you, Pony? The tiny grey cells under here won’t need to because they’ll soon have first-hand experience to draw upon!”

The slim finger swiped to bring up another photo. “One final piccy before we get down to the nitty-gritty element of our little chat, which I am sure you are finding fascinating. This magnificent giant muscled creature is called Gigolo, one of Susan's splendid ponyboys. He was her mount for our little outing together.  That's correct. I did say mount; you can see part of the saddle high up on his back, just where my finger is, see? We sat in the carriage and were pulled by Harlot, whereas Susan actually rode that big beast alongside us and got quite a trot out of him as well. God, it was so damn sexy seeing the small woman seated so confidently atop that big harnessed bastard and not a thing he could do about it.”

Candi lowered the iPad with a sigh. “One day, maybe even one day soon”, she muttered to herself, thinking of the note she’d thrown into the bin. She turned and caught sight of Tiptoe still kneeling rigidly to attention and abruptly laughed. “Yeah, well, not with that weak-kneed middle-aged bastard. That fucker could barely carry himself, let alone a rider!”.

She turned back as the girl was becoming agitated again and tapped her sharply on the right breast. “No, stay still, Pony, stand quietly. Now comes the best bit, the answer to the question, the question they all ask” she laughed and briefly looked back at Tiptoe. “Why? Well, in your case, pure coincidence colliding head-on with a casual thought I had one night travelling home from work in a terrible mood because of your overzealous zeal to impress your boss”.

Candi grinned. “One might almost say that your present and future predicaments are entirely your own fault, almost”, she reflected aloud before shaking her head as though to clear it. “Now then ‘Strumpet’, oh that I believe will be your new name, so you’d better get used to it.  Strumpet lll to be absolutely precise, I think.   Something of a  family tradition, I believe the original Strumpet was given to Susan by her mother when she was very young.”

Candi broke off and laughed. “Oh my, what big wide staring eyes you now have, Pony? The proverbial penny finally dropping, eh” she giggled and tapped the disbelieving girl's nose lightly with a finger end before continuing.

“Yes, history repeating itself. Susan now has a young daughter. You’ll love her, I’m sure. Absolutely adorable and uber pretty. She showed us the doggie she got for her birthday last year and all the tricks she taught him to do.” Candi laughed again. “Of course, mummy had to help with the initial training of the naughty hound. I mean, you can’t stuff a portly middle-aged man into a puppy suit, bind up his arms and legs so he can only crawl about on his knees and elbows and expect him to learn to bark and woof overnight, can you?” Candi chuckled at the memory.

“She called him Growler because of the angry sounds he’d made into his gag before they’d taught him only to use proper ‘doggie talk’. Mummy told us that she’d wanted something more akin to an old cuddly labrador for her rather than an energetic unruly young puppy that might prove troublesome.  It was so delightful having tea on the lawn, watching the little cutie putting him through his paces. Quite the perfectionist, she certainly didn’t spare her ‘stick’ as she called it when needed” Candi broke off and laughed again. “His barking and woofing weren’t overly impressive, but he could certainly yelp and howl when he felt that stick!”

Candi decided to prudently move slightly to one side just in case those heavy hoof boots started kicking out again. “So Pony, now you know. Susan decided that she wanted a suitable pony for her daughters birthday, so she contacted a few. Well, let's call them specialist suppliers, including my girlfriend, Hetty. She mentioned the enquiry to me, and bingo!” she giggled. “Well, you know the rest, don’t you. A week or so ago, you were an obnoxious  P.A, and now you are a captive PG, a ponygirl, albeit an untrained one, but that will soon change.”

The girl became animated again and kicked out and struggled in a positive fury of anger, but all to no avail, nor did the muted screaming into her bitted mouth impress her young captor overmuch. Candi waited patiently till the futile frenzy ceased.

“The birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks, but Susan is bringing her horsebox over tomorrow to collect you. Pity, I thought I’d have more time to play with you, but maybe that’s why she’s coming” Candi sighed. “Wanted you unmarked and as wild as possible so that she and her daughter can have all the fun I expect. No, don’t try and kick me, silly. Maybe I will come and visit you in a few months to see how you are getting on. Bring you a nice red apple or a few sugar lumps, perhaps”.

Candi laughed, moving a little further away just to be on the safe side. “You know you can’t reach me. Save your energy because you’ll soon be putting those long marathon running legs to good use for your new owner's benefit! I expect Susan will be spending a lot of time getting you ready for the big day. Imagine how thrilled her daughter will be when she sees you all decked out in your finest pink harness, pink ribbons in what she will leave of your fine long mane after you get the Mohican haircut! I wonder if she’ll brand you herself or let her daughter do it? So symbolic I would imagine burning your permanent mark of ownership into your animal's soft hide.”

Candi paused and gazed almost unseeingly at the now terrified girl. “God, just imagine it; thinking about it makes me so horny!” She continued to stare into space for a few seconds, and then the muted whimpering sounds from behind the girl's gag recalled her thoughts. She reached out a finger and touched a long string of drool from the red ball gag, looked at it for a second, then shrugged and wiped it on the girl's upper arm and gave another long sigh.

“Pity my birthdays not due for a while; otherwise, I might have asked for a pony! I’d have had to harness you to a cart, though. Big as you are, you’re no mighty Gigolo. However, you are big enough for the daughter to throw her saddle over you and ride you around her mother's estate for a few years. Imagine that, pony! Totally helpless, living virtually naked in a simple stall all day with nothing to do other than await your young owner's pleasure. Susan told us that there isn’t a thing the ponies can do for themselves other than breath, piss and shit where they stand! Imagine that? Candi paused to savour the look of absolute disbelieving horror in her victim's eyes.

“Hard, isn’t it. I mean, I visited there and saw the stables and the ponies, but I find it hard to imagine what life there is like for the ponies. Is it even life, I wonder? She paused thoughtfully and moved behind the girl who was now trembling. Fear or anger, she wondered and gently rubbed her palm over one reddened buttock cheek. The girl shuffled forward immediately, but the tether to her collar limited her movement.

“I’ll bet a healthy, active pony like you will soon be desperate to be ridden, yearning to be taken from your stall by the young madam and have a saddle strapped to your shoulders, waist and back.  A nice canter or a gallop out in the fresh air. Something to do. The pain from your young owners encouraging riding crop and boot spurs a small price to pay for such a change in your tedious existence.”

Candi rubbed the quivering buttock cheek a little harder. “Or then again, maybe not, I saw the sad look in Growlers eyes. I don’t think he was enjoying any aspect of his doggie life very much. Certainly, his bottom wasn’t where it stuck out of his puppy suit. It had obviously suffered frequent attention from the precocious young Miss’s bamboo ‘stick’!

“Oh, by the way, that picture of Gigolo I sneaked, notice anything amiss? Susan was pointing out to Hetty one of the necessary modifications she’d made to her big ponyboy. She only keeps geldings in her stable, not stallions, if you get my meaning. I wonder if she does something similar to her female ponies?”

Candi gave the cheek a parting slap. “Enough of this girlie chat. I’ll let you get some more exercise, and you can think about all that I have said. My my all, this has certainly got my nipples rock hard, and I feel the need for a little relief. ” She said, walking back in front of the girl rubbing her small naked breasts. She smiled and walked over to her desk and started the walker moving. Candi watched it for a couple of revolutions, then tweaked the speed up a notch. Satisfied, she picked up her cane and, moving over to the sofa, used the tip to flip her discarded top from Tiptoes head, casually flicking it over the far arm of the sofa.

She turned to watch a couple more revolution of the walker and its reluctant, but helpless follower, then shrugged herself out of her shorts and panties and climbed onto the sofa in front of Tiptoe. She wriggled for a moment to get comfortable, then stretched her legs out on either side of his head and beckoned to him to lean forward. Her nimble fingers quickly released him from the ball gag to which she’d almost permanently condemned him apart from his meagre meals and the bi-weekly grooming session.

“Not a word, asshole ”, she cautioned, dropping the gag beside her and picking up the cane and flexing it ominously before him. “No, maybe I should be kind for once” she giggled both at the absurd thought and the worried expression on his silly face. “But, why not? You may speak boy, but one word and one word only, understand. Speak boy”

His mouth opened and closed; he licked his lips and then asked the question she knew he would ask.

 “Why?”

Candi regarded him with amusement. Yup, she’d have bet anything he would have said that, but she was not disposed to answer. There was no reason why she shouldn’t, but it was more amusing not to. Instead, she just smiled sweetly and shook her head.

“Not yet, boy. Now stick that tongue out and move closer, lean forward and put it to work. You know where and I want a lot of effort. You already have an appointment later with the whipping bench for your earlier impudence. Fail to please me upon this rare treat, and our little corrective session this evening will be far longer than one of us would wish!”

Her fingers snapped.

“Begin, boy!”