Jasmine reached the end of the long, dry dirt road and pulled
into the parking area behind the farm's office. It was her first sales
call, and she hadn't quite known how to dress; but being flirty and feminine
had always seemed to work best for her in life, and sales would probably
be no different. And why fight the fierce Texas summer they were having?
So she'd skipped the bra and stockings and worn a button-down red cotton
dress that showed six inches of thigh, and a pair of leather moccasins.
As a concession to modesty, she'd unbuttoned only one button at the neckline;
but the dress still advertised her curves unapologetically. One of the
nice things about living in this part of the world was that you could
dress to please men without paying any social penalty.
Jasmine was new on the job, but she'd been around horses since she was a girl, and she felt that selling tack was going to come naturally. When Jim Washington, the farm's owner, came out of his office to greet her, she was surprised to find that he was not only young and extremely attractive, but also black, like Jasmine - although he was much lighter-skinned and lacked her African features. But she hadn't met many fellow blacks here in the business world.
The meeting got off to a great start - Jim clearly took to Jasmine, and the two chatted over drinks about everything but business for the first 15 minutes. Jasmine flirted, subtly but hard. If she'd have known how young and sociable Jim would be, she'd have unbuttoned that second dress button; if she'd known he was black, she'd have chanced the third, even at the risk of nipple exposure. The meeting was feeling a lot like a date. They both took a second drink without much worry.
Finally a lull in the conversation signaled the time to transition to business.
"So, Jim - can I tell you about our line this year?" Jasnine smiled sweetly - she didn't want to squander the intimacy they'd built.
"Of course."
Jasmine gave Jim a catalog and pulled her chair over to his to turn the pages; she was tempted to rest her knee against his, but thought better of it even in her tipsy condition. She was seriously regretting having buttoned up her dress; she would have liked to tease Jim with a peek at her big breasts, but she could only manage an inch of cleavage no matter how she positioned herself beneath his gaze. After one look at the catalog, Jim stopped her.
"Jasmine, do you know anything about this farm?"
"Well, no, not very much. But I know you train horses."
"Now, honey, you just move your chair back over there and let me tell you something."
"What are you talking about?" But Jim, who seemed quite amused, prevailed upon Jasmine.
"The horses that we train here aren't horses."
"What?"
"I said, the horses we train here aren't horses."
"Well, what are they, then?"
"They're human women."
Jim delivered the line straight, with a smile on his face. Jasmine stared for a second, then broke into hysterical laughter, then stopped again.
"You're joking, right?"
"No, ma'am."
Another peal of laughter. "I don't believe you."
Jim produced his company's own catalog and handed it to Jasmine. At the first page she started giggling like a schoolgirl, and kept giggling as she turned the pages.
"Is this some kind of illegal operation?"
"No, no, it's all perfectly legal."
Jasmine finished the catalog and looked up, still giggling. "I feel incredibly stupid."
"It's a natural mistake."
Jasmine smiled devilishly. "But you still use tack, don't you?"
Jim laughed. "Do you have anything that would fit a woman?"
Jasmine couldn't believe that she was actually thinking about this. "Only the bits."
"That was a fast answer. Have you tried them on?"
"Of course not." Jasmine had never thought much about human ponies before, but you couldn't look at all that equipment without mentally trying it on a person for size. Actually, she wasn't at all sure that her bits would fit in a human being; but she was sure that nothing else she sold would.
Jasmine showed him a picture of her smallest bit. "Hmmm - I don't know," said Jim. He grinned mischievously. "You wouldn't care to model it for me, would you?"
Jasmine shrieked with laughter. "No!"
"Come on."
"No, you pervert." Jasmine was still laughing.
"I just don't think it's going to work anyway."
Jasmine wondered for a second whether the sale depended on her modelling the bit. "Why don't you just try it on one of your - your horses, or whatever you call them?" Jim just smiled at her, sitting back in his chair. Jasmine felt pretty sure he was interested in her. "Anyway, there's no bridle to use with it," she added.
"Well, that's easy." Before Jasmine could say anything, Jim was on the intercom. "Billy, could you please bring a bridle and a extra large harness? Thanks." Jim hung up and smiled at Jasmine, who frowned. "I didn't say I would do it," she said. She tried to sound firm, but it came out a little pouty instead. "And did I hear you say extra large?"
"You're extra large in our sizing. Honey, you should be proud of it. Don't tell me a woman as stunning as you are is insecure about her size?"
Before she even had time to get a buzz from the compliment, Billy, a white employee, came in with the equipment, which looked like nothing more than a few strips of leather. Jim was clearly Billy's superior, but he handled the role comfortably, taking the time to exchange a few pleasant words with Billy. Jasmine thought Jim seemed like the ideal boss. "If this guy wants to sleep with me, I'll do it," she thought to herself.
After Billy left, Jim and Jasmine met eyes and laughed. Jasmine was trying to keep some control, but it was a lost cause; she was scrunched down in her chair like a rebellious little girl, frowning and biting her lip childishly. "Get the bit," Jim coaxed. "What the fuck," Jasmine thought; she bounced up, smoothed out her dress, and walked over to her suitcase to retrieve her smallest bit. By the time she had it, Jim was standing next to her. She handed the bit to him with a coy smile.
"You think this will work in a human mouth?" said Jim. "I don't know."
"Sure - it'll fit," Jasmine said.
"It'll fit, but... here, turn around."
Jasmine took a deep breath and turned around, and in a second a network of thin straps were fastened around her midsection. "This is incredibly silly," she giggled, as Jim attached her arms to the harness at bicep and wrist. She liked his smell, but was too nervous to savor the contact. "What's the point of putting me in this?" She tried to move her arms, but couldn't do much with them. It occurred to her that she was already pretty much helpless and in the hands of a total stranger; but she was in a public place, with office workers in the next room.
"The bridle attaches to the harness," he said. In a flash, the bridle was over Jasmine's face and tightened under her chin; straps between her eyes obscured some of her vision. "Does this excite you?" she said teasingly.
"No, this is strictly business," he said with a laugh. He pulled on something that drew Jasmine's elbows together behind her, and suddenly a wave of adrenaline traveled through her body - her arms were locked against her rib cage like two powerful levers. Her entire upper body felt like a solid, immobile block.
"Aaah," she whimpered beneath her breath, no longer playful.
If Jim detected a change in Jasmine, he didn't let on. "Okay, here goes the bit," he said, and gently but firmly pushed the bit into her mouth and felt around for the back of her teeth with the familiarity of a dentist. When the bit fell into place and was strapped in, it made Jasmine's cheeks bulge alarmingly.
"That can't be right. Does it hurt?"
The bit was in fact quite uncomfortable, but Jasmine, dazed, shook her head no.
"Are you sure? We'll check with the head groom in a little while - he's the expert." Jasmine looked as if she'd been hit on the head: her eyes were half open, and she swayed back and forth a little. Her large breasts, thrust forward by her strapped elbows, seemed a foot in front of her.
"This last strap goes between your legs," Jim said with a grin. "I won't pull it too tightly." But, even leaving the strap loose, he got a good look at her thong underwear, and felt the strap move frictionlessly between her slick thighs. "Jesus, she lubed up fast," he thought.
Jim stood back and took in the sight of Jasmine in full regalia, her breasts straining against the red fabric. "You're an extremely beautiful woman, Jasmine." She didn't respond or look at him; her heavy breathing around the bit was now embarrassingly audible, but Jim pretended to ignore it. "Shall we go see the head groom? I'll show you around the farm along the way."
Jasmine said nothing, staring down at the ground (or at her looming breasts), eyes half closed. Jim moved closer. "Shall we?" he said.
Jasmine nodded, almost imperceptibly. Jim put his arm around her immobilized shoulders and guided her out the door, catching her when she stumbled once or twice.
Jim walked Jasmine past the stables, the race course, and the medical center, chatting about the facilities the entire time, as if nothing peculiar was happening. Whenever they encountered an employee, Jim introduced Jasmine as a sales rep, and no one commented on her being bitted and harnessed, though she drew smiles and appreciative looks all around. Jasmine walked with lowered eyes, breathing heavily and allowing herself to be led by Jim.
The head groom was a brusque, burly white man who nodded at Jasmine when introduced, staring more at her bulging cheeks than at her body. Hearing about the new bit, he interrupted, "No, no, that bit isn't right. Just look at it."
"She says it's comfortable," Jim said. Jasmine said nothing; the bit was torture by now, but somehow she wasn't thinking about it.
Unbelieving, the head groom produced a set of reins, fitted them to Jasmine, stood behind her, and gave a little tug. Jasmine screamed in agony through the bit. "There, look at that," said the head groom, unhooking Jasmine and maneuvering the bit unceremoniously out of her mouth. "Why, this bit is for a horse!" he exclaimed. Before Jasmine could speak, the groom grabbed a standard bit, plunged it into Jasmine's open mouth, and reconnected her lead. Standing behind her again, he tugged to the right; Jasmine felt no pain. "Turn your head when I pull," he said, and pulled harder; Jasmine felt a sharp pain in the back of her mouth, and swung her head to the right as quickly as she could. The groom gave a little tug to the left, and Jasmine, having learned her lesson, turned quickly to the left as far as she could go. The groom whipped Jasmine's pretty head back and forth a few times; as long as she obeyed quickly, the process was painless.
The groom handed the reins to Jim, having proved his point. "Thank you very much, John," said Jim. The groom returned to work, leaving Jasmine properly bitted and her lead in Jim's hands.
Jim grinned at Jasmine, but chose not to mention the failed sale. "Are you okay?" Jasmine still wouldn't raise her eyes or make a noise. Despite her dark skin, Jim thought he could see the blood in her face.
"Let's walk over here - I want to show you this training carousel," Jim said. Jasmine stared silently at the ground, sweat stains spreading on her red dress. With a wicked little smile, he said, "Would you mind if I....?" then took a step away and tugged on Jasmine's reins. Jasmine felt the peculiar sensation of being pulled forward by the back of her jaws. She followed Jim without resistance.
They arrived at something that did sort of resemble a carousel. A circle of large, rounded ridges, made of a styrofoam-like substance, were set in the ground; a pole swung above them. "This is where we train horses for posture and endurance," Jim said. "I know I shouldn't do this, but I can't resist. Maybe you'll find it interesting. Or educational, at least."
The young sales rep stood before him, eyes downward and breasts thrown forward. She didn't make the slightest gesture of protest or resistance. Jim could distinctly see trails of sticky liquid running down her thighs from under her dress.
Jim knelt beside her to remove her moccasins. Jasmine felt suddenly grateful that she had had a pedicure last night. "You have lovely feet," he said, leaving them bare in the dust and pocketing her shoes.
Jim lead Jasmine to the carousel and eased her slowly between two of the rounded ridges, where there was just barely room for her to stand. Then he attached her lead to the pole above her head. "The training session is completely automated," he said. "The system monitors your heartbeat and reacts to it."
Jim took out a small, flat metal device with wires attached to it, then pulled a piece of tape off of its back. With a doctor's detachment, he unbuttoned Jasmine's dress down to her navel. Despite the pressure her swelling chest was placing on the fabric, the dress didn't completely fall away; Jim stuck the device to Jasmine's skin, directly between her partially exposed breasts, then wired it to a connection on the overhead post.
Stepping away, Jim started the training session. The overhead pole began rotating very slowly, pulling forward on Jasmine's reins. With a jolt of panic, Jasmine looked frantically around her. She could keep her balance for only a few more seconds without being pulled face-first over the ridge in front of her. There was only one action left to her: she lifted her right leg as high as it could go to clear the ridge, and put it down carefully in the narrow space between the next two ridges, pointing her toes to make the clearance. Once she touched ground, there was room for her to rest on the sole of her foot - but the pole continued its slow advance, and in five seconds she was forced to repeat the same high step with her left leg. And so on.
At her first high kick, Jasmine's breasts had exploded out of the unbuttoned red dress. They flew in all directions with the effort of each step over the high ridges. Jim watched her appreciatively from the side. He loved the purple-black nipples of dark-skinned women. The high stepping had also caused the dress to pull up in back, exposing Jasmine's bethonged ass, which was her real crowning glory. The training system was beginning to speed up slightly; Jasmine was still taking separate, deliberate steps, but her time for reflection between steps was nearly gone. Jim thought that she was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen - but he tended to think that whenever he saw a beautiful woman. After a few laps, when he had had a chance to enjoy Jasmine from all angles, he yelled out, "I'll be right back - I have to take care of a few things in the office." There was no indication that Jasmine heard him; the system was accelerating her again, and she now had to step continually. Jim walked away.
Jim returned two hours later with a clipboard in his hand. It took him a moment to realize that Jasmine was the same girl he had left on the carousel before his long lunch. "Wow," Jim exclaimed involuntarily. Her full, curly mane of hair now hung straight and wet over her shoulders; the red dress was so dark and shapeless with sweat that she looked naked from a distance. In the last two hours, the training cycle had gone through many phases; she had been moved several times outside the ridges and pulled forward at high speeds for short intervals to build endurance, then eased back into the ridges for form-building exercises. Right now she was high-stepping rapidly through the ridges, with a coordination that would have been beyond her a little while ago. Sweat flew off her big, bouncing breasts and the hem of the drenched dress with every step. Her breathing was audible from far away; she was vocalizing with each breath, emitting guttural, throaty noises. Jim was surprised that the system hadn't shut down the session yet. Jasmine must have been in excellent shape even before this.
"I'm sorry - it looks like your dress is ruined," Jim yelled out, "We'll take care of it." Jasmine didn't respond or acknowledge his presence; Jim doubted that she was capable of it at this point. Somehow it no longer seemed appropriate to flirt with her. Before he'd left her here, she was a pretty girl that he was enjoying transforming a bit at a time into a horse; now, she had become her role. It would surprise him now to hear her talk, or to see an expression on her face. He hung the clipboard on a nail on the fence and returned to the office for a meeting with another sales rep.
Ten minutes later, a beeping noise announced the end of the training session. The system began reining Jasmine in, gradually bringing her to a halt. Then it moved her to the outside of the ridges and led her around the circle at a walking pace, cooling her down.
Pretty soon a groom arrived at the carousel in response to the end-of-session signal. Puzzled by Jasmine's peculiar state of dress, he read the paperwork that Jim had left behind, then halted the system, unhitched Jasmine from the pole, and led her behind a nearby stable.
There, the groom attached Jasmine's reins to an overhead hook, pulling them tight so that Jasmine was forced to look up at the sky. In this position, Jasmine was finally taken out of the constricting harness. Then the groom peeled off her sodden dress and panties and threw them in a trash barrel, leaving her naked in the afternoon sun. Free of the harness, she came back to herself for a second and wondered if she should try to leave, remembering that she had an afternoon sales call. But she was too exhausted to think straight. She was still wheezing from her grueling training session, and she ached everywhere: the soles of her feet, the corners of her still-bitted mouth, her tender breasts, her overworked thighs. Looking at the sky, she must have fallen asleep for a second; she suddenly realized that the groom was hosing the caked dirt and salt off of her black skin with warm water and soaping her with a sponge.
When the groom had towelled her dry, he replaced only the straps that pulled her elbows together behind her back. Then he took her off the overhead hook and removed her bit and harness. The naked girl looked at the groom in amazement and opened her mouth, but the pain in her cheeks prevented her from making more than a little choked cry. "No talking," said the groom matter-of-factly. And Jasmine's mouth closed immediately, before she had a chance to think. In a second the opportunity had passed; the groom strapped a soft leather headstall on her and pulled a leather strap between her teeth. Jasmine was led naked into the stables and placed in a stall on a bed of hay. The groom wrote on her paperwork that she should sleep until 4 p.m. and have only light exercise for the rest of the day. By the time he had hung the clipboard on the wall outside the stall, Jasmine was in a deep sleep.