Lucy's Little Secret

Lucy's Little Secret

The lunge whip cracked twice, hesitated and then flicked out for a third time, landing a little harder than the first two blows. The pony squealed as it always did when its soft white hide felt the kiss of leather. The knotted tip left a savage red imprint and a vivid red stripe as the last three inches of thin leather lash behind that knot also bit into helpless pony hide. 

Two livid red stripes immediately swelled into bruised, swollen ridges of tortured skin. The third, identical to the previous pair, save for tiny spots of blood welling through the bruised surface from the more brutal impact added to the animal's misery. There had been no real reason for Lucy to use the whip other than sheer malice, but that was often the case. If she became frustrated with one hobby, then take it out on her other. Unfortunately for the suffering little pony, it was only a one-way process!

 It had been a couple of years since she'd last flown into a tantrum and put her fist through one of her uncompleted canvasses in a fit of pique! An act unbefitting of Lucy Ann Reynolds,  a model mom, a model wife, a model neighbour and a respected local community member. A community that knew nothing about the pony that sometimes suffered when its owner became frustrated with her brushwork or, more frequently, like now, simply because it amused her to see it suffer!

Lucy was a true pillar, as the saying goes. A permanent fixture on several local committees giving her time freely and well known as a generous contributor and donor to local and national charities and those international appeals that inevitably follow in the wake of a distant catastrophe.

She had two gorgeous little girls who'd become used to being mothered and spoiled by half the community since birth. Bethany, now six and Karen, just turned five, could be seen every Sunday sitting quietly with their father in the front row of the local Baptist church. Lucy didn't attend church herself, but nobody held that against her. Unfortunately, for some unknown reason, it brought on her migraines, as everyone knew.

Truthfully, the Reverend Tomas Seymour's Sunday congregations were not the largest in town, mainly due to the length of his services and sermons. The good gentlemen believed in giving value both to the Lord above and, more importantly perhaps, to those below for when the offering plate was passed around. That and that he was decidedly fond of the sound of his voice! 

His plump (the polite local term for obese) wife ran the Sunday school, which commenced almost an hour into the main service when the beaming cleric ushered the children into a side room. Most of them were not beaming, aware that having endured one hour of boredom, they had an additional hour of tedium ahead of them. Mrs Seymour was also fond of her voice but lacked her husband's communication skills and impressive oratory! He at least had a sense of humour and could be relied upon to reduce the entire congregation to a giggling mass at least once or twice every service and wasn't averse to poking a little fun at the almighty's expense! Several short videos on YouTube existed to confirm that, albeit in low-quality cell phone footage.

Sunday was Lucy's favourite day of the week which wasn't to say she disliked any other days, for she possessed abundant energy and a zest for life that made every day a pleasure. Sunday, though, was a day when a generous portion was devoid of work and domestic responsibilities, at least six hours and sometimes longer—ample time to enjoy a prolonged period with her 'little secret' as she thought of it. 

Indeed, as she closed the house's back door behind her and set off down the shingled track to her 'artist’s studio,’ she had that usual twinge of what? Remorse, regret, guilt even. Guilt was not in the sense she should have felt, for that never troubled her conscience. Lucy’s habitual Sunday twinge was due entirely to the limited time she could afford to spend with her ‘little secret’, but then she could hardly do otherwise, could she? Family, husband, social commitments and her job naturally had to take priority over her other hobbies, even secret ones, didn’t they?

Lucy stood whip in hand for a couple of minutes, silently watching the diminutive pony as it marched around in a circle, its heavy hoofs kicking up the usual flurries of dust and dirt. It did not look at her, nor could it have done so very easily while restricted by the cruel posture collar that forced its chin up as it strove to perform its high-stepping walk to perfection under its owner's demanding and unsympathetic eye. Hell, after what, nearly two years, the little beast damn well ought to be able to perform such a simple task to perfection. It wasn’t like it had much else to fill its miserable life!

The studio had once been a small barn that had doubled as a stable and general storage building many years ago when it had stood someway beyond the boundaries of the developing town. It was the only remaining structure of the farm that had once occupied the site, possibly because it was brick and stone-built in any area where such buildings were still not all that common except for the central business area. The farm had fallen into decay long before it had been absorbed into the rapidly growing town and its weed-strewn fields carved up by local property developers.

Those who’d owned the original property hadn’t been in a hurry to sell that final plot, setting a price that was neither appealing nor even logical. Thus it had remained a large overgrown local eyesore subject to frequent ‘to whom it may concern’ letters to the local authority. Subsequently, a relieved administration that was only too happy to ‘green tick’ every alteration and amendment to the planning permission they granted to the charming couple when they purchased the oversized and overgrown site and its derelict old building.

Lucy watched her pony perform another couple of circuits while her creative urge battled the sadistic streak that so tempted her whip hand. The pony hadn’t done anything wrong, though, whereas her latest painting was doing the opposite. The fact that it was an inanimate mindless object meant it was her fault and not the paintings didn’t help her demeanour! 

When they asked if she’d consider the senior branch management position in the growing town, Lucy jumped at the offer. Bringing the kids up in the city hadn’t appealed, and Bill, her big hunky husband being an auto mechanic, a good one, could find work anywhere. He was a simple genial soul without the slightest ambition of ever being anything but a spanner wielder collecting his monthly pay cheque. He could even have been a house husband, for he was excellent with the kids, a fantastic cook and did far more than she did in terms of the menial household tasks. Being very much the minor contributor towards the household income, he would have reluctantly accepted that role but convenient as it might have been, Lucy wasn’t that mean. Not to her hunky hubby, anyway!

Had she asked, he would have stayed home, but she hadn’t out of respect for him. While not as energetic as she was, some nights a minor source of regret, Bill loved to work with his hands. Equally happy dismantling an engine or simply putting up a couple of bookshelves. Once the builders had finally moved off the site, he’d been in his element first in the new five-bedroomed house and later renovating the old farm building into her studio.

Lucy had spotted the plot several times looking distinctly out of place as they’d driven back and forth from the hotel looking at various houses. The for-sale sign was somewhat dilapidated, as was everything else, when they parked out of curiosity and looked around. The asking price hadn’t changed in years despite the rise in property values, so it was somewhat surprising that it was still on the market given the ever-increasing pressure for new homes! Presumably, all the developers had moved on to despoil fresh territory!

The area they’d chosen for the house was a good hundred yards from the studio, accessed by a gravel, shingle and flagstone path across the rough green lawns that Bill kept under control via his sit-on motor mower. Persuading him to cut the grass was never a problem in her household, for he was always the first to suggest it was time to trim the green stuff! Translated, meaning time to play with his big toy was her instinctive thought! He spent more time tinkering with that machine than he ever did with the family’s three vehicles combined! Still, Lucy wasn’t going to complain. One of his work pals owned an ex-military tank, for heavans sake. A for real tank! Now that was where she would put her foot down if she had to. An old jeep, maybe but a tank!

A little earlier, Lucy had paused as she often did, halfway to look back at the house, the triple garage, the swimming pool and the large patio. It had cost a small fortune but well worth it, Lucy decided with smug self-content. Two-thirds of what her parents had left in their will once all the many miscellaneous expenses had been settled following the accident. It was a very sizeable sum, but what she had now was far better than money sitting in a variety of dull savings accounts. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she was paid peanuts, and they certainly didn’t live extravagantly! Besides, property values might sink slightly occasionally, but they always bobbed back up to climb ever higher.

The same thought was always in her mind these days as she’d turned and resumed her short journey. Would she have done what she had that evening if the studio hadn’t existed? Obviously not, but it did, and she had! If she hadn’t bought the empty plot, she wouldn’t have the studio, would she? And if she didn’t have the studio, she wouldn’t have what it contained, would she? Lucy wouldn’t be on her way now to play with her secret again, would she? Nor would she have that delightful twinge that frequently reduced her private parts to mush when she thought about her awful little secret. Awful or awesome, she sometimes thought to herself.

Poor Bill, the big sweetie, had no idea what triggered those lustful sessions when she would suddenly reach towards him with a teasing but demanding hand. Once his response had reached the appropriate level, Lucy would roll over and mount him, riding his sizeable manhood to a slow, satisfying climax. Bill was so good at holding himself back even as she orgasmed so that she often had a decision to make. Go again or wriggle down and use her full lips to provide that release in a way he always appreciated!

Once she reached her destination, Lucy swapped the bag she’s been carrying to her left hand and tapped the code into the door security keypad, looking at her watch as the door clicked open. Nine fifteen on the dot. Bill always phoned her before he rounded up the kids and set off for home, and that drive took at least twenty-five minutes, even on a Sunday. The same routine every week. The drive to church, two hours and then MacDonald’s for lunch with the Macey’s and their three kids, then onto the park or, if it was wet, a movie or something. Not exactly a traditional Sunday lunch, but the kids liked their happy meals, and it was the only time they were allowed such food bar the twice-yearly, single-week family vacations. 

They left home around nine and rarely returned before three thirty. Even if the weather was bad and nothing was suitable at the five-screen movie theatre, they’d go to the coffee shop at the mall and let the kids loose in its gigantic colourful play area. Today the weather was balmy, and if it should turn sour due to an unforeseen act of atmospheric petulance, the latest Disney had just arrived in town. 

Holidays had become a bit of a problem. Lucy did feel a little sorry for Bill, for he didn’t understand why they could only take one week, why not two? Then again, he didn’t know about her secret and how impractical a fortnight away would be, did he, poor lamb! Even a week away was way longer than she preferred but unavoidable, and the irony was not lost on her. People went on holiday to relax and forget, but she got a little uptight and worried, which was also annoying to conceal! 

Lucy closed the heavy door carefully behind her and tweaked the rotary control for the lights bringing most of them up to full power. The lights serving the high ceilinged, windowless ground floor were never turned off completely, only the ones on the upper floor with its big panoramic tinted windows. That floor contained her real studio that housed her paints, artist’s easels and canvasses, both finished and unfinished. Way more of the latter these days!

Lucy was always struck by the disparity between the spartan ground floor and the more luxurious upper of her exclusive private retreat. Upstairs was one large room with windows on all four sides and a small service area in the middle that served to wash and clean brushes and boil a kettle or microwave a snack. The small refrigerator usually contained a few odds and ends for making a sandwich if she felt peckish but was chiefly used to store the perishables and leftover meal scraps she brought over.

Upstairs had a modern laminated wooden floor, and an assortment of soft rugs, whereas the lower floor was rough concrete covered by a layer of dirt, sand and sawdust. Upstairs there were various low sofas and comfortable chairs scattered around to be used depending on her need and mood, plus a large but seldom used widescreen TV and a surround stereo speaker system. The latter did get used sometimes to boost her creative instincts. Down one end, the windows were partially blocked by the shelves and racks that held most of her ‘artist stuff’, not that she produced as much as she used to these days. Busy working mom syndrome, she joked if anyone asked, although that wasn’t the real reason.

Bill often joked that her studio was the most expensive piece of real estate in the entire town if you related its cost and space to usage! He’d done most of the fitting for her, and back then, she’d only intended to use the upper floor. The lower had been earmarked for storage and general use or maybe an ‘indoor’ games area for the kids, somewhere to play and have their friends over on a wet day. Get them out of the house for everyone’s mutual benefit! It was also one large room but far more primitive and akin to its original purpose than the upper.

That had abruptly changed one blustery damp evening almost two years ago, driving back from the regional airport. Bill and the kids stayed on for another four days with her in-laws, but an unforeseen hitch with a critical contract required an early return to her office. Irritating at the time, but if Tony hadn’t made that silly error, she wouldn’t have been driving down that stretch of road at that precise moment. She would never have seen that tiny figure in the oversized orange dayglow waterproof standing by the roadside waving frantically.

Lucy was never quite sure why her foot suddenly hit the brake that evening, for it was out of character, something she’d never done before. Maybe it was some instinct or just sudden sympathy for that small damp figure knowing how little traffic there was on the road at that time of night, a Sunday night as well. Whenever she thought about the incident, it invariably amused her how quickly that initial sympathy had morphed into something far worse than an inconsequential wetting!

The door opened inwards, and she bumped it closed behind with her ass till the latch clicked. A habit since childhood and one that cracked her husband up every time, she did it at home! Hands, bum, whatever, the door was firmly closed and locked, which was all that mattered! 

Locked so’s to prevent anyone from gaining entry who didn’t know the door code, and only one living person knew that, Lucy herself. Getting out was simple, just an aluminium twist knob on the inside. Easy for her, but should circumstances ever allow it, impossible for her secret!

Princess was watching her, of course, watching and waiting just as she usually was when her owner visited. How did she know, Lucy wondered? The noise from the exterior lock? Surely not, for the whole ground floor was soundproofed, including the door. That had been another lucky break. Bill and the kids had hardly been back a week from the in-laws when he’d had to don his uniform and depart for the annual stint in the military reserve. 

Doing his bit for democracy, ensuring the peace and stability of the world he called it. Playing soldiers with his buddies, Lucy called it, but somehow it always made her feel horny! The kids were too young to understand why his last night and first night home always meant an early bedtime, but they weren’t the only ones to retire early! Rambo was always equally randy that first night back! That aside, it was fucking inconvenience for a busy working mum with a demanding office to oversee. Lucy rarely ever swore but losing Bill for a couple of weeks this way always irritated her.  

This time though, was different. Lucy had again got lucky in that Bill owed them a week from a couple of years back, and they’d wanted their pound of flesh or, more likely, a quart of sweat from him! That meant the annual fortnight camp had turned into three weeks, ample time for the company she’d found to come in and do the renovations she wanted. A completely soundproofed set up for her proposed female rock band to rehearse, even though the building was already a considerable distance from the nearest neighbours. The proximity of her own house concerned her if things should get noisy, and there was no reason they wouldn’t!

The six months before the company had a suitable slot had vanished immediately once she flashed the cash and footed the bill for the crew to stay at an upscale local motel. The biggest worry stroke hassle had been walking Princess over to the house, securing her in the basement, and ensuring she remained quiet for eight days. Kids can be so damn curious about things and places that don’t concern them and so inquisitive. They’d not quite reached an age where hiding the Christmas presents would become something of a challenge, but she’d kept a very close eye on them throughout that period.  

Fortunately, the addition of a lock to the basement door installed one evening by the obliging guy who owned the local hardware shop solved that problem. That, coupled with her kid’s natural fear of the lurking ‘basement monster’ in the shape of a far too noisy heating boiler, had ensured Princess’s presence remained a secret while the builders fashioned her new home. Not that Lucy ever intended it to be a very homely place once she personally added the final touches!

“Hiya Princess, pleased to see me again?” 

It was a superfluous question, and both knew it. Princess would only be pleased to see Lucy because it would mean a few more days of life, even if it was a horrendous inhuman life of misery, tedium and suffering. At least it was better than being dead of starvation and neglect, or was it? Lucy would bring food and water to supplement that other basic necessity she had in abundance; air and the old building was large enough to ensure a generous supply, albeit somewhat foul smelling. That was Princess fault though wasn't it? No that was not fair as the little animal had no choice with that special tail plug holding her anal passage open!

Lucy placed her bag on the third stair of the carpeted stairs leading to the upper floor. It was only cheap ribbed industrial carpeting but a total contrast to the mixture of white sand and sawdust that covered the basement floor. That needed raking over again into a uniform thickness and covering up the ruts and hoof marks from the last exercise session. Lucy usually did that last thing before leaving but had been in a hurry the last time she’d visited. Likewise, the little brown piles that were now dry would be easier and less unpleasant to scoop up for disposal.

It had been several days since her last brief visit, so Lucy’s nose told her that the floor wasn’t the only thing that would need scooping and raking, but then that was nothing new. What went in had to come out even if what went in was relatively meagre in both content, taste and substance. Anyway, everybody ate far too much these days, didn’t they or at least in the developed part of the world plus, it was a healthy diet Princess ate, and she did look better for it! 

The two stalls occupied part of the wall opposite the entrance door, starting in the far corner. Lucy had built them herself. Substantial ones of rough-cut timber planks and posts, the front lower than the side with a low door to let the captive pony in and out of the simple stall. Lucy had originally intended to use a higher quality of finished timber but then thought better of it. If the pony insisted on being lazy and leaning against the walls, it would be its fault, not hers, if it collected splinters from the rough finish! Why should she encourage laziness? 

Lucy leaned over the low door of the left-hand side, one in the corner, to admire her Princess, her beautiful pony, her very own ‘my little pony’; she was just so adorable all done up in her pony gear. Lucy had grown up in a spacious neighbourhood and hadn’t been short on pets. Three rescue cats, two dogs raised from puppies, several rabbits, and even a parrot for a time that had belonged to a deceased aunt that sadly pined away a few months after the aunt! What she hadn’t had and lusted after was a pony, not just any pony!

Most young girls dream of owning a pony, want to ride and show off, and maybe win rosettes and ribbons at local pony events. Lucy hadn’t aspired to such dreams and wanted a tiny Shetland pony like her best friend. Masie hadn’t been allowed any other pets, but she did have ‘Duchess’, her gorgeous miniature pony! 

The animal had belonged to the young daughter of a guy Masie’s father knew. The kid had outgrown it and was getting a normal pony for her birthday. Duchess had been an impulse buy for Masie’s birthday, given she’d always wanted a pet, but her mum wouldn’t have one in the house. Putting up a big shed out back had solved that problem, and even her mum thought Duchess was super cute and spoilt the animal rotten when she thought no one was watching!

Both girls had been too big to ride the little animal, but it was so delightful, and they’d take it for walks and runs in the park or the big field behind Masie’s house. It was like having a big, oversized puppy to play with and teach tricks. Masie had a huge lawn and lots of other open space behind her house even before you got to the fields, an ideal site for them to train Duchess to perform an array of cute tricks at the end of a lunge line.

Masie had sometimes carried a long stick but never used it to correct the pony more to lightly tap the beast if it was too slow or stubborn, learning to do as they wished. Primarily that was achieved by bribes in the form of sweet treats and apples. Duchess had been such a fun animal and always drew admirers to her when they walked her in public. Not something she could do with her Princess, could she? That silly thought made her giggle silently, not without drawing the animal’s existence to the wrong sort of people and that probably covered 99.99 recurring per cent of the population. They would undoubtedly take a very dim view of her ownership of the little animal!

Not that she considered herself a criminal or, worse, a sort of sexual pervert, of course. Lucy Ann Reynolds was a successful businesswoman, a good wife and mum, and a conscientious neighbour and citizen no different from anyone else. Not the type you might read about in the more sensational Sunday papers! Okay, so she’d taken advantage of an unexpected little windfall, but anyone might have done that and hell, what might have happened if she hadn’t stopped? You read such terrible things in those papers these days, didn’t you? 

Lucy often thought about that at night when her mind was active rather than sleepy as Bill snored softly beside her. Was she a sadist, a cruel woman, someone society would condemn out of hand, an evil pariah of the worst kind? Then again, to offset that, she was usually the most serene of women with a near non-existent temper who’d never once been even tempted to raise a hand against her kids, no matter how much chaos they caused at times. Likewise, with insects and other small creatures. No spider need fear invading her bath, for she would be the one to catch it and release it to the wild, the one to chase a bumble bee or wasp around while wafting it toward an open door or window.

Leaning over the door to the stall, Lucy absently wondered why she had to be so cruel, given her captive animal species-wise was vastly more intelligent. A question that answered itself, she realised immediately, contemplating Princess and the look in the pony’s sad fearful eyes. It was trembling again. How deliciously cute! It was fun for her and intensely sexually arousing and had been from the moment the crazy idea of acquiring the little beast had popped into her head seemingly out of nowhere, that’s why! 

Cute was the word that had popped into Lucy’s head as her wet passenger wriggled out of the soaking hooded top at her suggestion, politely trying at the same time not to shake water everywhere. An impression that only grew as the journey progressed. His name was Darragh which he explained in a delightful soft Irish accent came from the word Daire meaning Oak in old Irish, a traditional boy’s name still prevalent in some regions of the country. 

Darragh was nineteen, from Dublin, a music student killing two birds with one stone. He’d been visiting distant relatives for a couple of weeks and now hitching to meet up with a girl a year older who’d been an exchange student for a term earlier in the year. ‘Saving meself a few euros, so I am’, he’d chuckled, shaking out a ponytail and running a comb through his damp hair.

Long dark wavy hair Lucy had noted and silky smooth. The sort of hair Lucy had lusted after as a teenager but never had. Her hair was a lacklustre blonde that felt coarse, and her everyday style for years had been a standard pageboy style. She wondered when Darragh last had it cut, for it must hang way down his back.

Maybe she’d stopped because some subconscious maternal instinct had triggered her to hit the brakes. Had her brain said, child as he stood there looking, so woe begotten in the headlights as the rain poured down. He’d looked tiny and dwarfed by the big yellow waterproof he’d shrugged himself out of at her invitation as he climbed into the passenger seat. It had taken her a moment to realise that he was an adult or, more accurately, a youth. He wasn’t a dwarf either, being perfectly formed but just so small, so delightfully diminutive in all aspects. 

Yes, cute was her first thought as she pulled back onto the road. Cute, almost pretty in a dark elfin sort of way. An impression that gained momentum as she learned more about her unexpected passenger. He was tiny as well. He’d even joked about the problems of being nearer the damp grass in heavy rain when you’re only four feet ten. Decidedly cute like an Irish Leprechaun, although Lucy doubted they’d be as youthful and pretty as this nineteen-year-old youth.

The idea had come about ten minutes after she’d stopped with such gut-wrenching intensity that she’d allowed the vehicle to swerve across into the oncoming lane before she quickly pulled it back. She’d absently apologised to her passenger at the same time while still shaking, partly at what might have happened had there been a truck heading in the opposite direction but mainly at the outrageous, the preposterous idea that had so startled her!

Lucy was an imaginative sensual woman who liked to read. Her tastes were varied, and she had a sizeable collection on her iPad Kindle app. Dickens, Tolkien, JK Rowling, Terry Pratchett, thrillers, true crime, and many romances of varying styles and intensity. The last couple of years had also seen the addition of erotica, much of it of the most depraved sort. Lucy had a rather large collection of the latter, and not only from Amazon, for there was a ton of the stuff to be found on the internet. Also, of late, her preferences tended towards the more extreme non-consensual variety as she ‘warmed’ herself up for an energetic session with Bill in the king-sized double bed. Indeed, while waiting in the departure lounge, she’d been delighted to find that one of her favourite writers had added another chapter to a non-con ‘pony story’ she was enjoying. 

Darragh was a very chatty little body, blessed with the gift of the gab, he confessed like so many of his countrymen. Thus within ten minutes Lucy, who’d only been half-listening as she wondered where best to drop her diminutive passenger, had already learned most of his life story. It was probably the word pony that triggered a chain reaction. Darragh’s parents were dead, as were his grandparents, and he was living at home in a sort of on/off way with an aunt and her latest boyfriend. The aunt he more or less got on with, the boyfriend considerably less so. The only redeeming feature for him was the fact that his aunt ran a small riding school on her run-down farm and stabled a few ponies there. 

“Always liked the Hoss’s”, he’d laughed and added, “Used to dream of being one when I was a kid and then a jockey”. Too small even for that, I reckon he’d laughed, and then seconds later, he’d exclaimed in alarm as the car swerved violently again and cast a slightly apprehensive glance sideways at the woman who was driving. If only he’d known what thought had prompted that sudden swerve!

Lucy had muttered the usual condolence on learning the boy’s parents had died in a car crash several years before. Poor kid, an only child with no near relatives, bar this aunt who sounded more older cousin than an aunt and not an over-conscientious one at that! The boy, for that’s how she considered him, was decidedly cute, though. As he mentioned his aunt’s ponies, Lucy recalled Masie’s adorable little Shetland with momentary fondness and her regret that she’d never owned…….

That had been when the vehicle swerved as her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel! Fortunately, her reaction with the wheel to bring the car back on track was automatic, for her mind was momentarily still absorbing what had flashed into it. She’d turned to look at her unexpected passenger without hearing the squeak he’d just emitted. Nor did she take in anything he said afterwards, nor was she even seeing the damp, bedraggled figure as he was but superimposed into another image. One generated by her favourite newly discovered theme of erotic literature!

Intelligence, intelligence combined, in this case, with a personality that was the difference, Lucy thought as she leaned on the door to Princess’s stall, looking at the little creature. No doubt Masie’s Duchess had some sort of personality that would have separated it from a similar animal. Still, it would have been nothing like the one Princess possessed or, she corrected herself, had possessed.

That, of course, accounted for the cruelty, at least in part. After all, Duchess had been a dwarf pony from birth, whereas Princess had only become one comparatively recently and not through choice! True, she’d once had a childish dream of being a horse, but the practicalities of daily life in Lucy’s makeshift stable had probably killed that off long since!

That she had no desire to be a diminutive ponygirl was irrelevant and had been since Lucy had conceived that extraordinary idea. So far as Princess was concerned, it might have been a whole lot better for her had there been a large truck coming the other way at that point. At least it might have been a quick and permanent exit rather than a short drive to a new existence beyond anyone’s imaginings. Anyone bar Lucy, of course!

They were making progress, albeit slowly, Lucy thought, but then they had all the time they would ever need to make further progress. There was no timetable, rush, or defined end goal, at least not in her mind yet. Perhaps there would be one in the future, but for now, Lucy was content. Anyway, her eyes wandered slowly along the row of assorted whips, crops, and canes hanging from their respective hooks along the wall, bringing a smile to her lips. The fun part was the journey towards that goal, whatever it might be. 

That was another thing Lucy sometimes contemplated laying away while hubby snored quietly beside her. She had never raised a hand to her kids or even considered doing so, and it wasn’t because they were little angels. Well, of course, they were but not in that sense! Bethany, in particular, could be a little devil at times! Yet had her mother ever visited the stable without inflicting pain on the little creature she kept there? Even in the ongoing online story, the heroine went through the occasional chapter without whipping any of her two-legged animals. Was ‘heroine’ the correct term anyway? 

Of course, such cruelty was a necessary factor in Princess’s life, and she wasn’t afraid to admit to herself that it was also very pleasurable to administer. The little creature was a pony now, her pony, and it had to accept that and needed to be continually reminded of that simple fact, painfully reminded. Lucy had decided that it should become a pony, her pony, and it was thus any ideas that the pony might have to the contrary as how it should live its life were irrelevant.  

Cruel to be kind, Lucy now fully understood the phrase's meaning. The sooner Princess accepted that she was nothing more than a cute two-legged pony now and embraced her lifestyle, the happier she would be, but not too soon, five or even ten years perhaps. There was no rush on her part, Lucy would tell herself as she lay in her comfortable bed thinking of her little pet over in the stable and sometimes planning the next little bit of ‘kindness’ it would receive from her.

Non-consensual. That term had been in her mind as she drove the petite boy towards a new life he could hardly have imagined in his most horrific nightmares! Well, he had accepted the lift pretty promptly and later her offer of somewhere to stay. The silly creature had been so grateful for the chance to get himself dry and sorted out, ready to continue his journey the next day.

Small he might have been, but he’d still fought like a tigress protecting her young when Lucy had pounced at two in the morning. She sat up late in her kitchen binge drinking coffee while considering her option. People never seemed to have the problem she faced in those extreme non-consensual stories she liked to read. There was always some sinister heavy, even a gang of them, to do the dirty work. Alternatively, the hypodermic needle and instant knockout, the drugged drink, the swift rap on the back of the head or whatever.

Lucy had sipped her coffee, staring at the far wall in her big kitchen yet not seeing it. She had no needle, and even if she had one, there was nothing to put in it. Her cell phone was choc a bloc full of numbers, but not one belonged to a big villainous heavy willing to earn a little tax-free extra. Not even little, perhaps because she could afford a sizeable sum had it been required. Some sleeping tablets were locked away where the kids could not get at them, but they were at least three years old and hadn’t done much for her when she’d taken them. Be very careful; her doctor had warned her when prescribing them. They’ll make you very drowsy, so only use them at night, not during the day if you need to drive.

Yeah, Lucy had thought, taking another sip, like real drowsy? Hell, she could have gotten out of bed an hour after taking them, for she’d still be awake and then driven a big eighteen-wheeler truck to the big city and back probably without yawning once. Fortunately, and no thanks to the stupid pills, her insomnia had cleared up after a few weeks. Thus the pills were out, and so was booze, for he’d admitted to being teetotal virtually and a fussy eater. Lucy’s mouth twitched at that thought. For how long? She smiled to herself, thinking once someone else strictly controls your diet. i.e. me!

That only left the sharp rap on the back of the head. But how sharp was sharp and how thick was his skull, and what did you rap it with? Dragging a live, if inert, pony over to her private studio was one thing, but a dead body would put a bit of a damper on things, wouldn’t it? Then again, did she have to drag him? No lights, and the area was super discrete and deserted. She took another sip musing on that thought and taking a mental inventory of what she could use to prevent him from bolting if she walked him over there on his own feet. Her mouth twitched. Or hooves!

The KISS principle, Keep It Simple Stupid, was something that had stuck in her mind from her first business management course, so she opted for that option. Besides, when she’d peeped in at him, he was sleeping on his back, snoring softly. What do you do under those circumstances? Gently wake them up and ask, ‘would you please sit up so I can smack you on the back of the head?’ Who knows, maybe at 2 am and being groggy with sleep, the little guy might even have done that, but why take a chance?

Strangely enough, until she replayed it all in her mind twenty-four later, looking for any weakness, anything she’d overlooked, she’d never once paused to question what she was doing, had she? Not once since she jerked the steering wheel as the idea popped into her mind. Respectable businesswoman, mother of two and community example to kidnapper and worse in one move!

Lucy had carefully pushed open the door and watched the peacefully sleeping figure laying there so innocently for a full minute while her heart raced. So small, so peaceful, almost like a child and yet the thoughts in her mind had not been the least bit maternal. Once committed, there would be no going back, no retreat, no recrossing a line that she should never have crossed in the first place. She tiptoed closer, and he looked so sweet, so small and helpless and so…so feminine almost. The room was very warm, for the first thing she had done on arriving home with her guest was whack the heating on full, leaving it on manual rather than switching it to automatic.

Darragh had kicked most of the covers aside and was laying there naked except for his feet and lower legs, a perfect miniature in all aspects and so smooth hardly a glimpse of body hair to be seen other than a very light frizz around his cute little cock with that oversized circumcised bell end. Kind of like a mushroom, she mentally giggled, wondering how much bigger it got when aroused and had to stop her fingers instinctively reaching out to stroke the adorable little appendage. Another wicked thought occurred to her. Dutchess had been such a sweet little pony, so why shouldn’t she now have her version of Dutchess, why not? Hell, she silently giggled to herself. The boy was hardly stallion material, was he? Another Dutchess, no, how about Princess? Why not. Doubly humiliating, and that thought produced another delicious silent giggle. 

In the end, it wasn’t even a conscious action. KISS, she thought as she patted the contents of her pocket, then growing impatient and also worried that the longer she hesitated, the more likely her resolve would ebb. Lucy took one long look at him and then launched herself upon the bed, quickly straddling him with her legs. 

What had she been worrying about, for she realised almost immediately that the outcome had never been in doubt, even though he was male and Lucy, the supposedly weaker female? He was a mere four feet ten to  Lucy’s impressive five eleven, he not she was the lightweight contestant, plus he hadn’t been in a gym since leaving school whereas Lucy’s company provided a mini gym for their staff. A healthy body equals a healthy, productive mind, and she liked to set her staff a good example several times a week. 

Probably most debilitating of all was that he’d been fast asleep, relieved to be out of the rotten weather and sleeping in a comfortable bed, not the passenger seat of a truck or draughty, damp bus shelter. A feeling of false security that led to a befuddled response when a thoroughly wide awake and hyper Lucy pounced in the semi-darkness. Her weight pinned him down while she roped his lower legs together, and then effectively immobilised, she twisted swiftly around, catching first one flailing hand and then the other in the loops she’d prepared and quickly lashing it to the bars of the headboard. 

He was screaming and shouting in surprise and endeavouring somewhat futilely to throw her off him, and his free hand did catch her  a couole of times before she grabbed and secured it but not enough to hurt or even bruise her. Lucy giggled with delight as his last chance of freedom was swiftly secured to a convenient post. Two hours and more of worry, yet done in two minutes and less, so delightfully simple. There would only be one winner from the moment she pounced, and Lucy knew immediately who that would be!

Fifteen minutes later, a gagged ‘Princess’ was walked unsteadily over to the studio a short while; the first signs of a new day were beginning to show in the morning sky. A very frightening day for the now terrified boy as he was soon lying on a cold concrete floor heavily bound, gagged and immobile. Her hubby used one of the three garages as a workshop and tool store, and he had numerous large spools of nylon rope varying in size stored there. Almost certainly overkill, Lucy had thought regarding the squirming bundle on the floor, but there was no point in being frugal at this stage, was there?

The temptation to stay and play with her new… new what? Toy, pet, pony, captive, whatever was very great, indeed almost overwhelming, not to mention what the whole business was doing to her damp pussy, but Lucy knew the value of patience. She contented herself with bending low over her victim and kissing him lightly on the forehead, chuckling inwardly with delight at the look in his horrified staring eyes. Besides, waiting makes the heart or whatever grow fonder, and by the time she returned, she’d be far better equipped to play, wouldn’t she? 

So Princess, as Lucy had decided to name him, spent over six hours lying on that hard floor while Lucy made the round trip to the city. However, she turned on the heating before departing, not so much for Princess’s sake as hers. It would be nice and warm when she got back with her goodies, plus starting off with a sick sneezing pony would be a bit of a letdown!

The town didn’t have a ‘sex shop’, nor would they have permitted such a business to open there! Anyway, even if they had such an establishment, there was no way someone as local and respected as Lucy could have risked visiting the establishment, especially not now! That meant a drive to the nearest city after a quick bit of online Googling. 

Fortunately, the shop chosen was part of a national chain and, as with most businesses, had a website. Lucy could have ordered online and had them delivered. Not an idea that appealed for obvious reasons, plus she wanted to pay cash when she visited. They’d even made it easy with an online order and three-day hold system for such cash purchases. How many people chickened out, she’d wondered later, parking her car in a convenient but discrete nearby slot and pulling on a pair of dark glasses.

She had intended to be in and out and away quickly, but the place was way bigger than she’d imagined from its narrow discrete exterior appearance, and the displays fascinated her. Not so much the lingerie that would probably have embarrassed most whores, although one or two things caught her eye. Bill's birthday wasn’t far off, so she bought him something she’d wear to bed that night, something guaranteed to fire his boiler up, she thought. 

There were a ton of magazines and DVDs. Why bother with those when there is so much stuff on the internet these days? It was seeing and being able to handle all the bondage stuff that occupied her for so long, that and sending the occasional sideways suggestive glances at the two furtive middle-aged guys looking at the cellophane-wrapped mags.

Hands-on was always so much better, so she’d changed her initial order junking some stuff and adding others. The guy at the till wasn’t bothered and was only too happy to remove some gear and readjust for the new things, as it more than doubled the final value. That didn’t bother Lucy either because she’d money to burn, and the replacements were considerably more robust and better made than her original online choices. The guy knew his stuff and was happy to answer her questions once her initial shyness wore off and wasn’t the least bit patronising and made several useful suggestions. Did he suspect she wondered as he recommended items that Madam’s submissive would never break or escape from, not in a million years? 

Lucy wasn’t worried about a million years. The end of next week or the week after would suffice until she’d had a chance to look around and see what else was available. The pile on the counter grew, and she selected and purchased not just bondage items but also the accompanying implements for dispensing pain after thoughtful but excited consideration. How those two seedy-looking losers had looked when she’d experimentally hefted then swished a few of them! Recalling the expression on their faces had made her giggle several times on the drive home! 

On that drive, Darragh went through the permanent gender change as she sat thinking about her new cute little miniature pony-to-be. He’d been halfway there in her mind already; that’s why she’d called him Princess, but from now on, he would permanently become her. He, or rather her, was so deliciously petite, so perfectly formed with such long silky hair, soft brown eyes and long curly eyelashes and a face that wouldn’t disgrace an elfin princess. Why not!

Good job, everything was discretely boxed and bagged up and stowed out of sight in the trunk because she needed to pop into the office and get that contract business sorted out, but that shouldn’t take more than an hour and then home and …Lucy grinned to herself think about that ‘and’. 

Anyway, was she that unique? Maybe not. The obliging till guy had helped carry her purchases to her car, and three other customers entered as they left. An elegant redhead about her age who towered over her courtesy of six-inch spiked knee boots accompanied by an angelic-looking smaller blonde who didn’t look old enough to be visiting a sex shop. The third was a hunky middle-aged guy with a shaven head, hands cuffed behind his back, a ball gag in his mouth and a broad leather collar around his neck, led on a leash by the younger girl. 

The tall redhead had smiled and held the door for them, and the till guy had thanked her, saying he’d be back in a minute Madam. She’d replied, ‘take your time, Simon, no rush’. Regular customers? Lucy would have loved to have asked, but she was in a hurry. Still, that bald guy hadn’t looked very happy, had he? Maybe she’d pop back there one day soon just out of curiosity!  

It was an ongoing internal debate Lucy had with herself as to whether she was a sadist or not! On the one hand, of course, she was. Princess herself was living proof of that, wasn’t she? But then, if she set that off against everything else in her life, was she? The answer was obvious, but Lucy never let it bother her conscience. Princess, in her mind, was a sort of bonus, an extra, an addition somehow outside the reality of her mainstream life and thus of no consequence!

She was a loving mother and wife, a respected member of the community, a good neighbour, and a highly valued business community member. The folks at the office simply adored her, didn’t they? Her and the enhanced annual bonus they’d received for the last few years! So, what if she did have a slightly unusual little hobby? Of course, those in authority would not look upon her hobby in the same way, but then, they did not know about it,  nor would they ever!

Anyway, Princess was such a pretty little creature and doubtlessly would have been wasted on that slut she’d been foolishly trying to visit. Hitchhiking, sheesh, lucky she didn’t end up being robbed, shot and tossed into a damp ditch someplace. Maybe even raped! At least she was alive, warm, dry, well-fed….correction, healthily fed and lived a life of comparative ease with nothing to worry about other than Lucy’s training sessions. Hell, people paid fortunes to spend a few weeks in those special retreats trying to detox both body and mind from the stresses of daily life!

She’d been spared the shot, stabbed or strangled part, and even the robbery had been incidental and not for her gain. Princess’s clothes and possessions having been quickly disposed of at several carefully chosen refuse sites without either examination or interest on Lucy’s part. His cell phone and a tablet computer were smashed with a hammer before such disposal to prevent them from being tracked, and they hadn’t been so far as she was aware, and no inquiry had ever passed through the city’s police force. 

A fate worse than death? Perhaps Princess might have preferred those alternatives to the present one that was less permanent in the terminal sense but hardly counted as a lucky escape! Nor had she escaped the rape element, for one of Lucy’s purchases that day had been a sizeable butt plug with an imitation horse tail made from black nylon, and the final addition to her basket of ‘baddies’ that day had been an impulse buy that caught her eye as she headed to the till one last time. A strap-on with a black plastic phallus attached! Well, why not, she’d thought, fingering the device and wiggling her butt slightly as such delicious sensations spread through her lower regions. Using one of those on a boy had always been a fantasy, but somehow she couldn’t quite see her Bill being an enthusiastic accomplice. 

Perfectly understandable for sexually imaginative as she was, the thought of being the receiving partner for a bout of anal sex held no appeal whatsoever. Indeed, for Lucy, the idea of submitting herself to Bill’s sizeable manhood via her rectum caused not a single erotic flutter, not that there was the slightest chance of that anyway. Bill was far too much of a puritan! Even Lucy climbing on top and riding him still prompted a mild degree of shocked surprise to the missionary man! 

Bill might be a big virile cuddly hunk, but he wasn’t the least bit imaginative in bed and never had been. His one defect, in her opinion and a minor source of irritation to her, but he was also very pliable and never objected to following wherever she led! Within a relatively shallow behavioural pool, that was. He was a bit too much of a puritan and had angrily grabbed the tv remote on numerous occasions just when something on screen was getting interesting!

Princess, of course, was an entirely different matter and had been well and truly thrown into the deep end of that aforementioned pool on numerous occasions by his imaginative owner sans lifejacket or lifebuoy. The fact that she, like her husband, had no desire to tread that murky water of depravity only added to Lucy’s pleasure!

“Twirl!” Lucy commanded with a snap of her fingers.

The little creature hesitated, then slowly turned around in a three-sixty-degree movement, its darling little bespoke hoof boots churning up the dirt until it again faced its cruel owner. Lucy saw its stiffly held body tremor slightly, no doubt due to the disapproving expression on her face. Lucy had cultivated an exaggerated rage of facial expressions purely for her pony’s benefit, and the little creature had been stalled long enough to recognise them all by now and the consequences that accompanied most of them. 

Lucy smiled, but there was no warmth in her eyes. “That was very slow, Princess, far too slow and unenthusiastic, and I don’t like that sullen look in your eyes one little bit! I think you’re backsliding again. We both know you can do much better, don’t we, girl?” She held the gaze of her pony till it looked away and then added. “I think we will start with a few behavioural reminders once I return! 

Oh my, Lucy felt herself give an involuntary shudder at that look in her pony’s eyes at her words. One advantage of having an intelligent pet! She had such absolute and uncontested power over the little creature. Tyrannical power, and yet that was so alien to her normal sweet nature. Last year they needed to downsize the office by a few people due to the new computer system and extending the outsourcing project because of her success. Her status and salary had taken a substantial leap upwards, but she’d also been the one who had to decide who went and who stayed under the new structure. She had cried every night for a week and even surreptitiously arranged to add some of her own money to their redundancy pay

Lucy turned abruptly and walked over to the staircase, picking up her bag and heading upwards to her studio. There was no point in waiting for an answer from Princess, for her pony couldn’t reply, not with that bit in her mouth. Not coherently, anyway, although its clever design permitted a limited amount of unintelligible noise through the central hole designed for the animal to get the metal tubes from its feeding and water bottles in its mouth. The former was empty, Lucy had noted with approval as she surveyed the stall. 

Besides, she thought as she paused on the top step to glance around her spacious workroom; Princess hadn’t uttered a single word in ‘human speech’ for months now, not counting those inadvertent omissions when being punished without her bit and even that would change over time wouldn’t it! She headed for her little kitchenette to store the food she’d brought over. Time, hers might be restricted by family, business and social obligations, but little Princess had an abundance to reflect and learn. Hadn’t she and the little creature had long since learned to stop asking why!

“Because I want to and because I can, " Lucy replied for the umpteenth time when the little animal had asked, and she’d had a tad more patience. “Now hold still, pony, or you’ll make me angry, and we both know what happens then, don’t we, Princess?” That had been a while back now, Lucy reflected, switching on the coffee machine, back in those very early days when she’d not quite been able to separate the human element from the pony element of her captive. Thinking back, she couldn’t put a finger on when her thinking and her attitude changed but changed it had. 

Of course, she’d made some mistakes, but then who wouldn’t have under the unique circumstances? Looking back, she could laugh at her nativity in those early months. Had she honestly expected the little animal to show some affection for her, some gratitude for what she’d done to it and continued to do to it? How crazy was that, looking back? But a part of her mental process had thought that way. Just like adopting a feral stray dog or cat that might eventually adapt and though still inherently wild, eventually demonstrate some affection for the hand that fed and cared for it.

Then again, Lucy mused as she tipped coffee into her mug; that same hand that fed had done much more to Princess besides feed, hadn’t it, so she should hardly be surprised.   Old Mister Midnight, the big scruffy black cat she’d fed for a couple of years after they’d moved in till the stray was hit by a truck, hadn’t shown that much gratitude either. Nor had he ever displayed the slightest desire to move in with them had he and she’d never raised so much as a finger, let alone whipped or fucked that furry little animal, had she?

Lucy glanced over to her latest picture on its easel by the windows where it had stood for several months and sighed. Yet another unfinished work soon to be added to the growing collection of similar canvasses stored opposite. Perhaps she should devote some time to sorting through them and seeing if she felt sufficiently stimulated to finish one of them off. Somehow, she doubted that she would, at least not any time soon. The kids were growing and becoming ever more demanding, Bill, bless him, was as biddable as he’d always been, but the office was also taking up more of her time due to her success! Maybe she should give thought to a major sea change, change jobs, or give up working altogether, although that prospect didn’t appeal to her. Then again, spending less and less time with her little secret downstairs was also not very appealing either. There was something else to consider as well wasn’t there thinking about the office and her little secret?

Lucy allowed her pony to complete three more rotations before casually raising her arm and flicking the whip out again. It never ceased to amaze her how such a simple, almost languid act on her part could produce such an entertaining and painful effect upon her target. The sound and sight of the tip curling around and kissing its intended target were so stimulating and satisfying to her. She didn’t hit where she was aiming every time, but she was a damn sight more proficient now than she had been in the early days.  

Back then, the effect on Princess had been pretty much the same regardless of where the whip had landed, and if she was honest with herself, the little animal's delightful reaction had been the chief stimulus for her. There were probably a hundred ways she could have inflicted pain on her pony to break its wilful lack of obedience and respect if she put her mind to it. She could have stuck pins in its ball sac, for instance, but somehow the whip was so much more satisfying to use, and of course, it left such a delightful visual imprint of the pain she’d just inflicted.

It was even more satisfying if the tip kissed one of those raised stripes the cane had left a little earlier when she’d dragged the little cutie out to apply a reminder that when she ordered it to ‘twirl,’ it did so instantly and gracefully. Not in that disgraceful unenthusiastic, and slovenly way it had obeyed her earlier. Lucy couldn’t exactly congratulate herself when the tip of the whip did land on one of those swollen bloody ridges, for she wasn’t that proficient. Trying to hit such a target when the little animal was trotting in a circle tethered by its posture collar to the ceiling hook was pure luck. It was hard enough just hitting that cute little jiggling bottom as Princess high-stepped around and around at the required pace. 

Lucy couldn’t help smiling as she’d brought her coffee downstairs and then marched Princess over to the flogging hurdle. Every time she manhandled the little creature, her mind drifted back to that first evening when she’d agonised about how she might capture the little beast. Hell, it had hardly been difficult even when she’d first tacked her up. That was another aspect that was both thrilling and yet disappointing at one and the same time. Much as she revelled in her ability to dominate her little pony, sometimes she wished for a greater challenge.

Lucy coiled her whip slowly and looked at her watch. Fuck! Why did time fly by so fast when you were having fun? Then she looked back to Princess. Had it flown by for her as well, or had it been a long, humiliating and painful ordeal, she wondered, hefting her whip thoughtfully and then regretfully sighed, resisting the urge to add one more stripe to the animal's bloodied little rump. Well, undoubtedly painful, and as for humiliation, maybe? Princess must be well used to that by now. Perhaps another taste of the strap-on. Princess just so loved that, didn’t she, not! Now the very sight of that always produced such an amusing reaction, even though her sexy little butt hosted that fat shit tube tail holder 24/7.

Lucy gazed at her tiny animal reflectively. Was humiliation such a big deal for Princess these days, she wondered, or had her diminutive filly she become accustomed to it by now? Hadn’t she once read somewhere that you could become used to almost everything given time? She nodded to herself, watching it walk around and around, thinking about time. Well, her little secret had plenty of that, hadn’t it, and did it pass quicker for her when Lucy visited or was it all one eternal, endless drag, and how did Princess feel about it? Happy, indifferent, resigned, terrified even when that door finally opened.

Lucy thought about that and compared her busy and frequently hectic life to Princess’s and, for half a second, felt almost envious and then she giggled at the idiocy of such a thought. Yes, being free and untroubled from her daily hassles now and then would be nice, but not at the price Princess was paying and would go on paying for many years to come! Besides, that was one of the reasons she came over here and kept her little secret, for wasn’t it among others? To relax in an environment so far removed from her normal one. She looked regretfully at her watch again. It had been over ten minutes since Bill had phoned, so they’d be approaching the halfway mark now.

At least ten minutes more, for Bill was a careful driver whether the kids were in the car or not. He was a law-abiding person who’d never been tempted to run a red light or would ever exceed the speed limit, even by a couple of miles. It wasn’t in his nature; he was always genuinely amazed when other people did such things. Strangely he seemed tolerant when she was at the wheel, which was why she always insisted on doing the long-distance trips; otherwise, they’d be on the road forever! Nine minutes.

“Now then, Princess. You know the rules. You’ve all night to suck down your satisfying and  delicious dinner, so empty the bottle by tomorrow morning.” Lucy giggled, patting the skittish little animal a touch too firmly on its tortured rump. A rump that was in that state purely because of her and the power she had over the creature. The fact that the contents of its big feeder were neither delicious nor in sufficient quantity to prove satisfying worried Lucy, not one bit. Princess had lost weight month by month since she’d first been stalled by deliberate design. The liquidised food provided enough nourishment to keep Princess healthy, and the loss of a few more pounds only made her that bit easier to manage and handle, plus increased that delightful waif-like figure that was so adorable. Lucy had a target weight in mind and kept a weekly spreadsheet on her laptop and a few pictures to glance at when she was at work in a secret password-protected file. That same file contained the app that allowed her to ‘live view’ her little captive creature. Another project would see a couple more internal cameras added that she could access similarly. Something she reminded herself that needed to be taken off the back burner fairly promptly!

Eight and a bit minutes. Yes, very much off the back burner as that other idea was simmering alongside it, ready to come to the boil, the one that would offer a contrast and challenge alongside Princess. An idea that had been stewing in her mind for a couple of months now. Lucy gave Princess a big beaming smile. She patted her head fondly and exited the stall but not before casting an eye around to check as she always did to see everything was secure—belt, braces and a whole lot more. There was no such thing as overkill in her book so far as keeping Princess and the outside world separate. 

There were two stalls in her basement stable and exercise area. Lucy had built them herself after the conversion and felt justifiably proud of her handiwork. Her dad had been big on DIY, and most Sundays could be found ‘where all good people go on a Sunday, ’ he would joke. In his case, the local independent hardware superstore before it had been bought up by one of the big boys. 

Lucy had often accompanied him and loved to help her daddy as he put up shelves, replaced rotten windows, repaired fencing, obligingly assembled flat-pack furniture for ham-fisted neighbours and so forth. Over the years, she’d gone from holding the nails and screws and passing one as needed to being a fully-fledged partner with the electric drill, saw and screwdriver. These days, of course, Bill did all that, and she never got a look in other than in her studio stroke stable, where she’d put Bill's excellent collection of tools to good use.  Perhaps a bit too good. Even if Princess put on several hundred pounds, grew a  few feet, and developed muscles to match that stall ought to hold the beast.

Quiet, why she’d build two was a mystery even to her. The timber company had fucked up her order delivering way too much, leading to an argument with the moron who delivered it. The idea of dropping off what she’d ordered and taking the rest back seemed beyond his limited understanding. Either he unloaded the lot as per the sheet he kept waving at her, or he took it all back to the depot. There was no middle ground for that idiot.

Thinking back, she felt so angry for a moment and eyed the long row of punishment implements dangling so innocently from their respective hook. Oh, if only! She’d have shown him how much she cared about that damn precious order slip of his! Her gaze switched back to the second stall. It was bigger than its neighbour, about a foot and a half wider. Lucy had opted for the ‘all’ option and signed for the entire delivery as she was pushed for time. Princess was in her basement and needed to be out here, pronto. Bill might have wondered about the extra wood if she left it outside, but he might not have. His lack of interest and curiosity was sometimes annoying but also a blessing. Initially, she had left it piled up in one corner, but once Princess was beyond the induction stage, it irritated her when exercising and training the little animal.

Six minutes. Waste not want not as Lucy’s grandmother used to say, so the second stall was larger. Besides, cutting a couple of feet off all that wood just for conformity seemed a heap of unnecessary extra work. The second enclosure was built even more robust than its neighbour because of her experience constructing that first one. Lucy tapped the top rail with an expensively manicured hand. She did like nice nails and had her favourite nail technician call twice a week at her top-floor office.

Lucy was momentarily distracted as Princess started sucking on her feeding bottle, making that delightful slurping noise. The mixture was liquidised but still of a thickish treacle-like consistency. It had taken a while to get that right, but now she had a range of recipes that produced a similar result. Every meal was different and yet identical. The difference was in the handful of leftovers she added, but the rest and the preparation inevitably produced something bland, healthy and thoroughly unappealing in all aspects. Perfectly suitable for a captive little human equine.

Lucy watched the little animal endeavouring to extract its meal for a few moments thinking about that extra cruel touch she’d added by accident and never bothered to rectify. The meals she fed to the little animal were liquid but not with some substance, enough so that Princess had to work at extracting her daily nourishment due to the aperture of her feeding nozzle. It even blocked up occasionally, but Lucy made no allowances for that. Princess either emptied her feeding bottle, or she didn’t, and if she didn’t, well, an ungrateful pony suffered consequences. No excuses excepted, ever! Next time it might make a more significant effort and suck harder!

Feeding Princess regularly was necessary, unlike grooming her or mucking out her stall, which could wait until it was convenient for her owner. The fact that it might be inconvenient, not to say unpleasant, for the pony standing about in its own shit and piss was, of course, irrelevant. Weekdays, term time was easy as Bill went to work early and dropped the kids off on the way. School Holidays and weekends could be more problematic in preparing food and getting over here, but she usually managed it. There was a liquidiser and everything she needed in her studio food prep area she could use and a store of backup ingredients if required.

Doubling up, though? Lucy lightly ran her hand unthinkingly along the rough top rail and winced as she immediately picked up a splinter which fortunately hardly penetrated her palm. “Idiot”, she muttered to herself, carefully extracting it between two long glossy purple nails. Why should it pose that much of a problem, she thought? Maybe a minute or two longer to prep and a few more at this end but no big deal. She smiled to herself. Yes, indeed a bit longer to prepare, but she could base quantity on what Princess had been eating, couldn’t she? The little animal was still alive and perfectly healthy, wasn’t she, other than the marks and scars that inevitably accompanied her unwilling conversion. But then you couldn’t make a decent omelette without breaking a few eggs, and Lucy had never been stingy when making omelettes for tea!

Three minutes. Yes, the basic logistics would be the same. She would need to order more of the big feeding bottles, perhaps one no two sizes larger, for when they went on their week-long family holidays. Not that they were feeding bottles as such but industrial-sized stainless steel drip feeders, but they did the job and hell, even if the food one did get a blockage, the water ones never did. The worst-case scenario was a first-day problem, but then a seven-day enforced zero diet wouldn’t kill the beasts, would it? What was an empty belly for a few days compared to the other things she could and would do? Lucy made her mind up, blew Princess a goodbye kiss, picked up her bag and exited her secret lair triple, checking that the door was locked as usual.

The roads must have been super quiet, for she’d hardly taken more than a couple of steps along the gravel path when she saw Bill parking the car, and then the kids were climbing out and spotted her. Bill waved and disappeared into the house while the kids ran to meet her, shrieking with glee. Lucy smiled, bent down to hug and kiss them both, and listened to their excited chatter until, as kids do, they abruptly thought of something else, and both shot off back up the path, leaving Lucy to smile indulgently after them. They were growing so quickly, she thought with a sigh. It wouldn’t be long before they were bigger than Princess back there!

That thought caused her to look back and then nod to herself before resuming her walk towards the house. Usually, she’d be thinking about the evening meal but not today. She had that second stall available, bigger than the one that housed Princess, and both were built to contain a raging bull if necessary due to her going a tad overboard material-wise when building them. Not that Princess could do much raging in her hobble, tethers, hoof boots and harness. Food, no real problem. There were companies on the internet that could supply the necessary harness and other items she would need and of a far better quality than she’d bought in the city sex shop. She had an account with one, and Princess was already the unwilling beneficiary of their superb products. She could start ordering that kit, couldn’t she? So that just left two problems, no only one, she quickly corrected herself—the who was a growing certainty which left the how and the when element.

It had been two for a while as the idea took shape in her mind, but now there was just that one wasn’t there, and Lucy was sure she could find a solution and quickly to that one. The thought made her shudder with delight in the same way that she so frequently enjoyed when playing with Princess. That’s why she had an oversized couch in her upstairs studio and a drawer full of suitable toys to hand. There had been a time when she’d half considered allowing Princess the privilege of using her tongue to satisfy her owner rather than a length of vibrating plastic.  

An attractive idea but one Lucy had discarded after a deal of thought. No, Princess was an animal and would be kept, fed and live like one in all aspects. Taking her upstairs like that after she’d spent a couple of hours being painfully reminded of her lowly equine status would be somewhat unproductive. Three steps forwards and two backward syndrome plus she herself might be diminished in the animal’s eyes. 

Did Princess know what she so often did in the studio above after she was put back into her stall? Sometimes Lucy could not wait even to do that, and the little beast was left to wait patiently, still tethered by her neck rope to the centrally mounted ‘dressage hook’  as Lucy thought it, in the ceiling. What did the cute little beast think when she tossed the whip aside and headed for the stairs?  Nor was it unusual for such to happen more than once in a session. Did Princess think her Mistress needed an urgent bathroom break, perhaps? 

Lucy smiled at that thought. Maybe it did, for she wasn’t noisy when climaxing, was she? A bit of a squirter but not a screamer! Anyway, other things to think about. Planning had always been one of her strong points, as her distant bosses appreciated. Meticulous, every base covered, every detail thought about, everything critically looked at from every angle, and then the road map to success drawn up. Besides, what did they teach you on those tedious management courses? There were no such things as problems, only opportunities!

Lucy smiled, thinking of that gorgeous-looking, hunky new intern who’d caught her eye. Not that difficult given his size and bulk, nor had she been the least bit surprised to read on his CV  that he’d been an impressive college footballer. He was certainly built like one, and hopefully, that impressive size continued elsewhere to parts not as yet visible. Now he was what you’d call an opportunity plus!

Lucy paused and looked back again to her studio, thinking of Princess. The little creature had the cutest teeny clit, hadn’t she. Little being the key word, for you could hardly see it when it was curled up in its tiny cage. Lucy had read somewhere that those unfortunate men afflicted with dwarfism didn’t just have heads significantly out of proportion to their bodies, but they frequently excelled size-wise in the cock department. That was another indicator in Princess’s case that she wasn’t afflicted with that problem.

Princess’s clit cage was specially made, which hadn’t been cheap. To Lucy’s surprise, she’d found that quite a few companies made male chastity devices of varying quality and price. Was there really that much of a demand? Unfortunately, non were suitable for her pony’s cute little appendage, but one company did make to measure for a price. Of course, it had to be the most expensive, but then the quality was superb, and money was a minor consideration anyway.

Lucy was thrilled with her purchase, and it fitted superbly. Tight enough to prevent naughtiness but allowed enough leeway for a little amusing, if frustrating and painful growth when her fingers teased down there. Princess was probably most unhappy about it, but what had she to be happy about, period? Being happy was not a feature of Princess’s life, ever. Once, Lucy had noted her little animal was enthusiastically slurping on its feed and had done so for three meals in a row which was highly unusual—enjoying it? She made sure to discard the remainder of that mixture and avoid it in future. The animals next few meals contained more additives in generous quantities, such as hot pepper and chilli powder. Lucy had nothing whatsoever against enthusiasm; indeed, she demanded it so long as it was generated via her whips and canes.

How would Prince react, she wondered, mentally naming him on the spot. Decidedly unimaginative, she scolded herself but so very apt. He would be an entirely different proposition, wouldn’t he in all aspects? Well, perhaps not all because the same basics that applied to Princess would apply to him and no doubt the whip would have the same effect. Size only meant bigger targets and presumably more nerve endings, didn’t it? How would he react to whip and cane in her merciless hand? 

Princess was such a cute little thing, but little was the keyword. Now breaking down a big boy like him would be an entirely different but delicious challenge, would it not?  How would he react to the first kiss of the lash upon his flesh? Would the big hunky broad-shouldered boy scream at the first touch of leather as Princess had done? Surely not, even though her right arm was far more practised than it had been back then.

Yes, a very different challenge and care would have to be the watchword. It was hardly a challenge if Princess somehow broke loose and threatened her, for she outclassed the little animal physically in every aspect. That had always been a comforting thought at the back of her mind. Prince though, would be a far more serious adversary, indeed impossible opponent, should he get out of his stall and somehow shed his leg hobble. Even denied the use of his arms, getting him back where he belonged might be a problem. Hell, problem no, major disaster, yes, and all ends up!

Lucy grinned to herself. Next time one of those management training punks went on about there only being opportunities, not problems, maybe she should bring that one up! The last thing she needed was a broken leg courtesy of a feral pony, which would surely be the end of her little secret. Was it worth it? Lucy looked back at her studio and then smiled a nasty little smile. Sure, it would be, but if Princess found her harness and necessary restrictions a little uncomfortable, which was as it should be, then big boy Prince would be taken to a whole new level.

That was a no-brainer—his physical discomfort for his new owner's peace of mind. A suitable trade-off, and Lucy knew which was the more important. Yes, she looked back towards the house, nodding to herself. If she wanted comforting thoughts at the back of her mind when he was stalled, more serious consideration as to the appropriate restraints would be needed. 

That evoked a quiet giggle, for she had a unique thinking post, as she called it to herself, and she was in the right mood to make good use of it tonight once the kids were in bed. Lucy wasn’t a cruel woman, not in her own mind anyway, although her little Princess might drop a jaw in amazement at that, assuming her bit was removed and head bridle suitably slackened. Her Bill wouldn’t have agreed either if she was in one of those moods when she decided to play with his pole, teasing, tickling, caressing with her long slim fingers. He could wriggle, moan, and even beg but not touch; that was the rule while she played with his pole. The silly sweetie assumed it was some form of sadistic extended foreplay on her part.

Hardly that, given what she did to little Princess, nor was she fully conscious of what her fingers were doing. Yes, she knew the effect it was having as he writhed about, but her mind was mostly elsewhere. The company's board and CEO would be amazed to know that some of the successful enterprise decisions they’d adopted had come about because Lucy had played with her hubby’s cock while contemplating some potential project. 

Although not essential to the main problem, another chastity device would be top of the list. Wouldn’t it be great if she had to order another made-to-measure device, only this time for the opposite reason? Surely a big boy like Prince would have a proud cock, not a teensy little clit, something worth teasing or tapping sharply with the tip of a crop. Another sizeable pole for her fingers to play with, although his, like little Princess’s tiny clit, would never be allowed to squirt as her hubby did once her mind was made up about something. 

Sometimes she wondered how many times little Princess had squirted, not counting wanking, of course. All boys wanked, didn’t they? But had Princess ever used her tiny little clit as nature intended? Wouldn’t it be wicked if she never had, and maybe Prince likewise?

What about Prince, mister hunky, who’d caught other female eyes around the office beside hers. According to his CV, he’d attended religious schools and college. Office gossip said that he was single, had no apparent vices or girlfriend and spent his free time in a smart suit knocking on people’s doors with a beaming smile and a handful of leaflets promising them the key to salvation or something similar. Wouldn’t it be great if he was a virgin, hell maybe he was one of those who’d even regard wanking as a sin. Then again, would it be quite so amusing denying him what he’d never had? Hmmm, food for thought! 

Maybe she could treat them both once or twice a year, but chiefly for her amusement. Get little Princess suitably positioned and helpless, and then lead Prince over to cover the little filly with some suitable encouragement. That would most certainly be needed but would only add to her fun. Would she let Prince go all the way or, perhaps, haul him off at the critical moment and rinse and repeat? Would she be able to haul him off, though, even if suitably harnessed and restrained once male libido and nature took over? A motion to her front halted her train of thought.

“All right, Honey, I’m coming”, she called, realising with some surprise that it had started to rain and there was Bill was calling and waving and looking somewhat perplexed as to why she was standing like that on the path getting wet. Lucy gave a little shiver, for her train of thought meant she’d suggest to her very own hunk that an early night was on the cards and not because she was feeling tired. It wasn’t just on the outside where she was getting wet.

Her husband shrugged his shoulders and disappeared inside the house as she started forward, returning to thoughts about security. She accessed and viewed a camera from her cell phone, and the hidden app needed a special access code. But the best cameras in the world would be useless if he managed to escape his stall. Technology was not helpful in…or could it be. What about a shock collar, a special one? Could she get something along those lines? Probably illegal to get something so powerful as she’d need, but then the cops had those taser things, didn’t they?

 Plus, she had two important things going for her, money and contacts, and she could easily concoct some story as to why she needed the thing. Three things, in fact, for no one who knew her would suspect for one moment that she planned to do anything nasty with whatever she acquired, not the Lucy they thought they knew! 

If big beastie boy was wearing something that would knock the silly fucker cold the moment he exited his stall and knock him down again and again till he returned to it. Pain, increasing pain and more pain each time that was how dumb animals like him learned to obey anyway, and it would be a lesson he’d soon enough at her hands. Worst case scenario, it might kill the big fucker, but her little secret would remain just that, wouldn’t it, secret she decided callously. Maybe Caroline could recommend something along those lines. That thought stopped Lucy dead right under a tree beside the path as it happened, just as several heavy accumulated raindrops dripped from a branch on her head and went completely unnoticed.

Why on earth hadn’t she thought of that? Caroline was the tall redhead she’d met going into the sex shop and met again at a business convention a few months later. The recognition had been mutual, and after a little casual conversation, they’d got along very well and, over five days and a few bottles of expensive wine, learned a lot about each other and their respective private lives. 

Caroline was in her late thirties and a top company lawyer with a range of contacts, legal, business, political, you name it, and not just confined to the branches. They went way up the tree trunk as well. They’d got to know each other well enough to discuss why they’d both been visiting a sex shop. Nor directly but in a roundabout sort of way. Maybe Caroline had enjoyed one glass of wine too much that evening, or perhaps she was astute enough to recognise a kindred spirit when she’d hinted obliquely that the bald guy on the leash wasn’t exactly happy about being on the end of it! She’d winked, tossed off the last of her wine, yawned and said she was heading for bed. 

Lucy had thought about that all day and resisted mentioning it until they were both ensconced in a quiet booth in the most peaceful and least popular of the luxury five-star venues, numerous bars. Lucy realised later that if anyone had asked her what the day's presentations had been about, she would have had no idea, for her thoughts had all been upon one subject, and it wasn’t to do with the convention. She herself brought up the subject in a roundabout way after Caroline made a suggestive remark about the tight spankable ass on the cute little Mexican waiter who’d served their drinks.

Caroline had stared at her over her drink for what seemed an awfully long time and then said. “I’m not nearly as nice as I seem, Honey. Not towards certain, shall we say, lesser specimens of humanity! Something seems to tell me that you might be inclined likewise?” 

They say a secret is only a secret if no one else knows about it, and a few minutes later, Lucy’s little secret wasn’t entirely so secret. Caroline’s expression had remained wholly neutral, and she only said one word when Lucy had told her story or a part of it. She’d not said all that much but tapped on her cell phone and handed it across after Caroline said, “Photos?”. 

“Cute, absolutely adorable, and I love the pony set up” Caroline smiled a minute or two later, handing the cell phone back. “It fits him, her, I mean. Perfect, it just does!” She chuckled, shaking her gorgeous long red hair and then reached for her own phone.

Caroline had never been to her studio, but she’d been to Caroline's luxurious home one time. Partly on business and partly following up on the open invite from that convention. She’s seen the photos, but seeing them in the flesh was something else entirely. Dodo, Dumbo and Doggie were the three she’d seen pictures of on Caroline's cell phone, along with Baby. 

Baby was the angel-faced blonde who was definitely not her daughter Caroline had laughed back at the convention. ‘People always make that mistake when we are out together, but she’s older than she looks, just’ the redhead had finished with a wink. ‘A real sweetheart accept to my unwilling house guests and so enthusiastic!’

Dodo was an attractive big-breasted plumpish woman in her mid-forties, her head shaven as bald as her husband, Dumbo. The pair served their Mistress as house slaves under Baby's ever-vigilant and critical eye. Caroline had pointed out the many scars on their naked bodies. A testament to her young lover's enthusiasm and desire to make her make life so perfect for Caroline. ‘I haven’t the time these days to keep them in order. Such an adorably little minx, isn’t she’ Caroline had laughed, kissing and fondling the girl before telling her to fetch Doggie in to greet their visitor.

Doggie was the son, the third member of the captive family. Naturally, Lucy had asked how Caroline had acquired them after handing her new friend's phone back with a trembling hand, but the redhead had just laughed and put a finger to her lips, then taking up her wine glass, had lifted it a half salute, saying. “Way and means, Honey. Ways and means and knowing the right people!’

Knowing the right people! Another few heavy drops fell unnoticed on Lucy’s head from the branches above.  Lucy had stopped again. Ways and means and knowing the right people. She’d call Caroline from the office tomorrow and suggest lunch somewhere. It had been well over a year, did she still have the family under Baby’s watchful eye. Now that young girl was the exact living representation of the word sadist! Lucy recalled as she’d watched the young blonde walk her dog around the room on the end of a leash. Walk was the wrong word, for with his arms and legs doubled up and bound in the puppy bindings, he could only waddle slowly around on knees and elbows. His young Mistress towered over him and didn’t spare the rod she carried. Nor from the look of him had it ever been spared, for he was a living mass of scar tissue, bruises and cruel bleeding welts. Her Princess looked pristine by comparison, and at least she was still upright. 

Lucy nodded to herself and hurried along the path. One thing was sure, though, that planning would start in earnest on the morrow, and she’d make that call to Caroline. ‘Ways and means’, maybe she’d know someone who could organise the ‘how’ for her. She still had that big untouched trust fund hadn’t she, plus a not-inconsiderable amount in the bank, and Bill never bothered himself with any of it, did he? 

Lucy shivered as water ran from her wet hair down the back of her neck and then shivered again, but this time as she pictured a big hunky secret joining her little wimpy one. Maybe she would take a leaf out of Baby’s book when she’d asked the girl how obedient her charges were as the human hound licked frantically at her right shoe.   “Very!” had been the one-word answer, and her long switch had swept up and down upon Doggie's mutilated bottom to emphasise why.

Now, what should she get the kids for supper to counter those unhealthy Happy Meals?