by Geetwo

- An original story provided for use on SirJeff's Ponygirls.
- Do not use without the author's permission.
- See more at Geetwo Erotic Stories.


Matthew Torrance slipped his fingers from the silky wetness of his captive’s drenched sex and gazed down into her anguished, up-tilted face until the jolting explosions of her first enforced submission to his will began to ease.

“Quite satisfactory, pony-girl,” he told her casually, then added, “For a beginner. You will become much more responsive as your training progresses, of course,” he smiled coldly, then added, “At least you will unless you want to be punished.”

He took the crop from his belt and sent it whistling through the air above her head and as her eyes filled with terror and she whimpered in fear, he nodded firmly, “I see we understand each other.”

Gabrielle understood only too well and as he informed her that he was now her Master and that she was required to call him that on every occasion when he permitted her to speak, she felt a cold chill of apprehension form in the pit of her belly.

Nor was that all, for she must obey every command he gave, instantly and without hesitation.

Failure of any description would be immediately punished by his crop.

His final warning, that there would be no exceptions to these rules and no acceptable excuses, was reinforced as he tapped his crop lightly across the delicate buds of her nipples, staring deep into her frightened eyes as he did so.

There was no mistaking the message and a shudder racked Gabrielle’s body as she imagined her breasts being whipped….

For long seconds, he held her gaze, letting her read her fate in his dark eyes, then he made a show of checking his watch, “Well now, pony-girl,” he said at last, “It’s now just after eleven. In a couple of hours it should be quiet enough to take you down to the car and drive you to the farm. So we have some time on our hands. Any suggestions as to how we spend it?”

His eyes glittered with amusement as he asked the question, knowing full well that she could not answer him and as she remained silent, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, “Oh well, if you can’t think of anything entertaining, then I suppose I shall have to.”

Gabrielle moaned into her bit-gag, suspecting immediately what form the entertainment would take and when he strode to the wardrobe and returned with three lengths of nylon rope, she knew that her suspicions were correct.

Two were swiftly knotted to the posts at the bottom corners of the bed while the third was looped under it and knotted together, leaving a short end lying on the duvet.

It was obvious that he meant to spread her ankles to the posts, but she could not quite work out the purpose of the third rope….until he lifted and carried her to the bed and bent her forward over the footboard.

She tried to struggle as he forced her head down, but the combination of her bondage and his superior strength was far too much and in seconds the rope was looped through a ring on the front of her posture collar and drawn taut to hold her doubled over.

It was then childishly easy for him to loop the other ropes to each of her ankle cuffs, release the clip and pull her legs apart…..

Squealing in horror, she was forced onto the tips of her leather-shod toes as her legs were hugely spread until her thighs quivered with the strain and she was completely immobilised.

With her rounded buttocks raised high and the pink folds of her labia drawn apart to reveal the glistening channel of her sex to his eager gaze, Gabrielle could do nothing to stop him using her as he pleased and as she was forced to accept his absolute power over her, her tears dampened the duvet below her and muffled whimpers told of her humiliation and fear.

Unable to see behind her or anticipate what was to come, she was taken completely by surprise as the crop burned a line of scarlet fire across her lifted bottom cheeks.

Twice, then twice more, then a final two, each lash greeted by a muffled wail of pained misery as her Master exerted his dominance and her bottom flamed with blistering heat.

For an untrained and unprepared captive such as Gabrielle, the shock was immense for even though Matthew had cropped her thighs to force her to obey him, she had never envisaged being punished for no reason other than his pleasure.

She had done nothing….nothing….yet still she had been cropped.

It drove home the stark reality of her plight with shattering force and as she fought desperately to come to terms with the situation, she momentarily forgot that inflicting punishment was not the only pleasure he could take from her.

His long, thick shaft bored into her gaping sex in one irresistible lunge and as she screamed in shock, he took her with hard, jolting thrusts, penetrating and ravaging her body without mercy until she was sent hurtling into a climax of such devastating strength and intensity that she could no longer draw breath to scream and her plundered belly exploded in white-hot bursts of molten love-juices.

Convulsing in an orgasm imposed on her against her will and with her nostrils flaring to suck in desperately needed air, Gabrielle juddered in her bonds as hard fingers twisted her swollen nipples and still more cruel and unwanted arousal crashed through her pulsing belly and reeling brain.

She tried to hold on against the enforced lust consuming her very being, but her frantic efforts were shattered into a million pieces as her Master increased the speed and depth of his thrusts to force her into a second, even greater orgasm as his seed hosed into the swirling, seething core of her belly.

Driven far beyond her limits, her whole body a sexual inferno she could not even begin to control, boiling floods of her love juices poured down over her Master’s deeply buried flesh as Gabrielle submitted utterly to the slavery she was no longer capable of resisting.

A low moan filtered through her bit-gag when he pulled from her body and she slumped limply in her bonds as he strolled from the room, whistling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

And why not, she thought bitterly, he had every reason to be happy.

For he possessed a pony-girl and a sex-slave, the two combined in one tightly bound and hopelessly responsive female.

A woman who had once been his lover and his equal, but whom he now owned……

Stunned by the depth of her sexual submission and fearful of the crop he carried, Gabrielle made no resistance as he returned to her and untied the ropes which had held her for his pleasure.

He locked her knee cuffs together, but left her ankles free and it was only when he clipped a six-foot braided leather leash to the front of her collar and commanded, “Follow, pony-girl,” that she remembered him telling her that she was to be taken down to the car and transported to his farm.

But the car was in the underground park beneath the building, seventeen floors below…. and the only way of reaching it was by the lift which served the entire block….

Surely he couldn’t be intending to take the enormous risk of using such a public method without covering her almost total nudity?

Not with her gagged and in bondage with the marks of her croppings still clear against her pale flesh?

It would be mad….crazy….unthinkable.

He led her, shuffling slowly in her hobbles and high heels, to the front door of his apartment and to her horror, out into the foyer.

Her mind screamed “No,” and she tried to pull back, only to find that he did not intend to let her defy his wishes and that his promise to punish any disobedience on her part was no idle threat.

With a cruel jerk on the leash he brought her to her knees and without a second’s hesitation sent his crop slashing across her buttocks and thighs, applying six smarting cuts as she writhed and screamed in pain.

Then, “Follow, pony-girl,” he repeated sharply and as Gabrielle struggled to her feet with her eyes glistening with tears and her body adorned with the glowing evidence of her punishment, he walked to the lift and pressed the button.

Leashed and in despair, Gabrielle could only pray that the lift would be empty, for if it was not she would be displayed in the most extreme humiliation.

She could hardly credit that Matthew would take such a huge risk.

If she was seen, how could he possibly explain?

Unless…and her brain spun wildly as she visualised the scene….unless he could carry it off by convincing anyone they met that she was a willing participant in some sort of erotic sexual adventure.

A fantasy in which she actually wanted to be discovered as a bound and gagged sex-slave.

Most people…herself included she knew…would be so embarrassed that they would not linger to question such a story and Matthew had already proven himself to be an accomplished liar.

It would unquestionably work, for one glance at her clearly expensive costume and his immaculate appearance would allay most people’s suspicions, for who would believe that she was being transported into a lifetime of slavery by means of a public lift?

To her complete astonishment and humiliation, Gabrielle felt her nipples stiffen to throbbing rigidity and her sex ooze with juices as her imagination ran riot, picturing the lift doors opening to disgorge a crowd of sophisticated men and elegant women.

The leash at her throat jerked her forward and as her Master’s free hand rose to capture the swollen button of her left nipple, he chuckled, “Randy little pony-slut. You’re getting turned on, aren’t you? Wondering if someone will see you like this, are you?”

Gabrielle gasped and her belly kicked hugely as his taunts intensified her own shameful vision and as he recognised her unmistakable reaction, his eyes glittered with malicious amusement.

“Ah, that struck a chord, didn’t it? You like the idea of being seen, do you? Well, I’m sure I can arrange that. Perhaps I’ll take you to a pony-girl show and arrange to have you displayed in your harness. Maybe with a notice hung around your neck inviting everyone to take you for a drive, eh? How does that sound?”

Later, when she looked back, Gabrielle would remember that moment as the one when she first dimly began to recognise that she was a natural submissive…..

As his fingers released her nipple, Gabrielle gave a low moan, pleading for more as jet after jet of heated juices showered into her shuddering belly as she climaxed where she stood to the horrifyingly thrilling images his words conjured in her brain.

Falling to her knees, she rubbed her breasts against his leg, her body shaking in its release as the frenzy of her passion overwhelmed her, no longer knowing or even caring where she was or what such a blatant demonstration of her complete submission might betray about her.

And at that moment, the bell rang to signal the arrival of the lift and the doors hissed open.

Whether she was relieved or disappointed that it was empty, Gabrielle never had time to discover as she was pulled to her feet, pushed stumbling into the lift car and felt it begin to descend.

As she regained her balance, she was presented with a sight so stunning that she found it impossible to believe.

Despite her numerous trips in this self-same lift, she had never really noticed that the back and side walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling mirrors….until now….

In the polished glass, she saw herself for the first time as her Master saw her.

Revealed in every tiny detail, a slender, blonde-haired woman stared back at her from wide, shocked eyes above stretched, bit-gagged lips, a posture-collar forcing her head erect, arms welded into a single-arm glove to strain her shoulders back and thrust her full breasts and erect nipples into shameful prominence, while below a tight, heavily-boned basque, silvery snakes of love juices still trickled from her pink-lipped sex down her trembling thighs to her hobbled knees and booted feet.

The woman was the very picture of a thoroughly well used pony-slave in bondage and as Gabrielle examined her own reflection and saw how incredibly sensual and erotic she looked, she understood exactly why Matthew would go to such lengths to capture and keep her as his prisoner.

The lift hummed downwards bearing Gabrielle towards a fate she now accepted that she was not going to be able to escape and just as she began to wonder whether life as Matthew’s slave and pony-girl might not have certain…compensations…the bell rang and the lift slowed to a halt.

She glanced up at the floor indicator and froze.

This was not the basement car park, but floor six.

Someone had called the lift and as the doors hissed open, Gabrielle’s eyes bulged in panic as her Master smiled politely and said, “Good evening, Miss Harrison.”

“Good evening, Mr Torrance,” a soft, well-modulated voice replied and as Gabrielle squealed shrilly into the bit-gag filling her mouth, a tall, fit-looking woman of about Matthew’s age with short black hair and wearing a smartly tailored black suit got into the lift.

For several seconds the only sound was Gabrielle’s muffled groans as the woman stared at her, then the brunette simply gave her a casual nod and turned to Matthew, “The car park, please. I see that is where you’re taking your…ah…friend.”

“Yes, that’s right. We’re going for a little drive.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure you will enjoy it. I always think it’s so much nicer driving at night. So much less traffic to…ah…distract you from your young lady.”

The polite conversation, oddly normal given the circumstances, became even more surreal as Matthew replied, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Harrison. I’m forgetting my manners. This is Gabrielle.”

The brunette turned and smiled, “Nice to meet you, my dear. I won’t shake hands as you seem to be somewhat handicapped at present.”

Matthew gave Gabrielle’s leash a tug and when she turned towards him, ordered, “On your knees, Gabrielle. Show the proper respect to a free woman.”

Gabrielle hesitated, doubting her own ears, but as her Master frowned and his hand went to the crop at his belt, she realised she had little choice unless she wanted the brunette to be a witness to a pony-slave’s punishment right there and then.

Flushing a deep scarlet, Gabrielle sank to her knees at the woman’s feet, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her to hide her shame.

With the awful posture collar holding her head up she couldn’t even hide her face.

None of that seemed to concern the brunette at all, because as she watched Gabrielle humiliate herself, she gave a tinkling laugh, “How very charming. She seems to be a pretty little thing under all that leather and metal. Wherever did you find her?”

“Believe it or not, at the International Horse Show,” Matthew replied, joining in the woman’s laughter and Gabrielle moaned in dreadful anguish, her blushes deepening as the brunette stooped to look at the bit-gag protruding from the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, I see,” the woman giggled, “Now I understand what that is. How extraordinary.”

“Not for a pony-girl,” Matthew pointed out reasonably and the brunette nodded.

“No, I suppose not. It must have taken a lot of training, I imagine?”

“Oh, Gabrielle is not trained yet,” Matthew chuckled, “That’s where I’m taking her tonight.”

The lift braked to a halt and Miss Harrison patted Gabrielle’s gagged cheek, “Well, goodbye and good luck with your training little pony-girl. I’m sure you’ll do well. And good luck to you too, Mr Torrance. Do let me know how it all turns out,” and she was gone.

Gabrielle couldn’t believe it.

Miss Harrison hadn’t even questioned whether Gabrielle was a willing captive, let alone demanded that Matthew release her even though she must have seen how much discomfort she was in and noticed the vivid red whip stripes on her body and the tell-tale stains at her belly and thighs.

She had just assumed that Gabrielle truly wanted to be a pony-girl and accepted Matthew’s explanation at face value.

How could the woman have been so stupid?

How could she have possibly thought that anyone would be willing to be bound so helplessly and even whipped?

Surely not even the brunette would have imagined that Gabrielle would volunteer to be a pony-girl?

As the question formed itself in her brain, Gabrielle gulped and her blue eyes widened in dismay.

Because that was exactly what she had done.

Sold herself as a pony-girl for one solitary pound.

A pound she no longer even had.

What she had instead of her pound, was a Master and as the leash to her collar tightened, Gabrielle stumbled from the brightly-lit lift into the cool dimness of the underground car park.

Matthew’s gleaming Porsche was parked alongside her Ford, but it was not his car that he led her to, it was hers.

She watched him open the boot and her heart sank as she realised that her journey to the farm was not to be made in the comfort of his car’s deep leather upholstery, but rather in the cramped, dark confines of the boot of her own.

Her protesting whines achieved nothing and as he removed her leash then lifted her and bundled her inside, she had no option but to resign herself to the inevitable.

When he rolled her onto her belly and gripped her ankles in his strong hands, she was in no position to resist the forcible doubling of her legs up to her buttocks and when he clipped the rings on her ankle cuffs to the ring at the finger end of her single-arm glove, her spine was curved into the deep hollow of a stringent and quite inescapable hog-tie.

Rolled back onto her side and with her posture collar linked to her single-arm glove and the glove linked to her ankles, her arched body was easy prey for her Master’s questing fingers and he was not slow to take full advantage of that fact.

“Don’t want you getting bored on the journey,” he told her casually, “This’ll give you something to think about,” and while one hand dived to the entrance of her sex, the other toyed randomly with her breasts until her body shuddered and quivered with unsatisfied lust and she moaned and sobbed in a torment of need.

Then, at the peak of her passion and with her eyes pleading for the release of an orgasm that was so, so close, he slammed the boot shut on her, plunging her into darkness and despair and the frantic longing of a wildly aroused slave.

Just before he started the engine and drove off into the night, Gabrielle heard the familiar strains of one of her favourite songs on the car stereo and her eyes filled with tears of humiliation and anguish as the words echoed through her brain.

She knew he was playing it as a mocking farewell to her freedom.

The song was called, “I’m a Slave to Love.”

To be continued...