At the Ranch

by Lasley
- do not use without the author's permission.



Susan was visiting her boss’s beautiful ranch in the desert Southwest. The work had been light, and
she’d had plenty of time to spend relaxing by the side of his lovely pool. She had enjoyed exploring the
ranch’s large grounds, too, and had been especially impressed with the long pole barn with several
horses in the stalls. The barn was pretty large, and not all the stalls were full. Either way, it was very
well equipped and nicely maintained.
She thought about all this as she enjoyed the late afternoon sun, lazing by the beautifully tiled pool. Her
small, black bikini accented her nice body – full breasted and hipped with a trim waist. She had just
celebrated her 25th birthday and was neither skinny nor fat. With shoulder-length brown hair, deep blue
eyes, and about 5’ 6” tall, Susan was the pretty girl next door.
Sylvester, her boss, was an older man in his late-40s, with a distinguished head of salt and pepper hair.
He had an easy manner and had always treated Susan with respect. She’d grown to like him.
Sylvester breezed around the corner with two frozen margaritas on a plastic tray, bringing into the
young woman’s daydream. After they’d chatted for a little while, sipping on the frozen drinks, Sylvester
straightened himself up and announced that he was going to the barn to look in on a couple of the
horses and check out some other things.
“Wanna come?” he asked?
“Sure,” Susan replied. “But I should probably change out of my bathing suit, first, don’t you think?”
“Oh, don’t bother,” he answered over his shoulder. “We’ll just be a few minutes. You can come back
here to the pool for another dip before dinner.”
As she rose up from her recliner, Susan felt a little light-headed. Wrapping a towel around her hips, she
supposed that the drink was a little stronger than she’d expected. This did not actually bother her, and
the barefoot young woman padded along behind her boss into the barn. The late afternoon sun
combined with the strong, musky scent of horses, fresh hay, and tack gear filled Susan’s head with an
almost delirious sensation. “That drink was strong,” she mused to herself, somewhat absently.
They looked in on the horses, checked their feed and water, and bantered amiably as they made their
way toward the far side of the long pole barn. Reaching a small stall at the end of the row, Sylvester
motioned his employee inside. Hanging from the walls and stacked on shelves was more tack gear, as
well as what looked like a number of pieces of riding equipment. Her head swirled as she stepped into
the small space and Susan was afraid that she’d actually become a little tipsy. She put this out of her
mind – it was only one drink, after all – and soaked up the fragrance of the stall’s rich aroma of wood
and well-worn leather.
Susan’s mind wandered as she listed to Sylvester talk about the horses, their equipment, and the joys of
riding in the open desert. She breathed in the musky odor of the barn and found the tawny smell of the
leather especially intoxicating. Sylvester noticed this, and casually motioned to a tangle of leather tack
hanging from a hook on the wall. He lifted it off and walked over to the young woman. “This is a nice
example of some specialty tack. It’s quite well crafted and very soft.” Susan took it from his hand, put
the gear to her nose and inhaled deeply. The earthy smell filled her nostrils and she drank in its
sumptuous aroma with hooded eyes.
Sylvester let her take the moment in and quietly glided behind her. He gently reached around her
shoulder and lifted the gear from her grasp. “Try how it feels,” he whispered close to her ear, as he
slipped the soft straps over her shoulders and guided each of her arms through the leather bands. She
looked on with detached interest as he began to adjust a set of buckles at her back, above and below
her breasts, and over her hips. He then gently tightened a thick band around her waist and eased the
towel off from around her hips. He finished by pulling a strap from the front of the waist belt back up
between her legs and buckling it at the small of her back.
Sylvester turned Susan to face her reflection in a full length mirror that hung from the back of the stall
door. The rich brown straps encasing her shoulders, breasts, waist, and hips felt both soft and firm.
They enhanced her figure, accenting the curve of her hips and the fullness of her breasts. As she drank
in her reflection, Sylvester stood behind her, looking intently at the girl’s reflection in the mirror.
Wordlessly, he pulled her hands behind her back and eased her wrists into a pair of buckles attached to
the back of the wide belt. Somewhat startled, Susan asked why he’d just done that. “There’s nothing to
worry about, my dear. This is just the proper way to wear this kind of tack.” “It’s not really for horses, is
it?” she asked softly. “No, it’s not real horse tack, but I think that it suits you very well, don’t you?” “I
guess so,” she said quietly, her head clouded by the situation and whatever was in the drink he’d given
her.
“There is more to the ensemble,” Sylvester purred. “Would you like to try the rest of it on?”
Susan nodded, not really sure where this was all going, but not actually resisting it, either.
From somewhere behind her, Sylvester produced a wide collar of matching dark brown leather. He
worked the band around her throat, noting with some pleasure how it emphasized the length and curve
of her graceful neck. Susan adjusted herself to this new encumbrance and found that the collar
effectively prevented her from moving her head either up, down, or from side to side. While she was
still contemplating this addition, Sylvester attached two more sets of cuffs above and below her elbows,
gently but firmly pulling her arms together. The result was that Susan’s elbows nearly touched behind
her back. This forced her breasts to thrust out from under the straps that encircled her torso and upper
body and they seemed ready to burst out from behind the bikini top’s thin, strained material. With her
arms now securely pinioned behind her and the thick collar encircling her neck, the young woman’s
posture was regally erect, her breasts proudly displayed.
This broke Susan’s reverie. “I think that I’ve had enough of this,” she said with growing suspicion and
apprehension. “No, no. We’re almost done,” Sylvester cooed. “You need to see the full outfit,” he 3
coaxed as he guided the stiffly encased young woman over to a bench on the side of the wall. “I’ll guess
your feet to be about a size 8 ½,” he said matter of factly. Drifting, again, Susan nodded in quiet
agreement, at least as much as the stringent collar and strict leather lattice that now commanded her
body would allow.
“Here, let me help you into these,” Sylvester said as he held a tall boot up to her right foot. Wordlessly,
she let him slide the boot up over her bare, outstretched toes, ankle, and calve. The boot ended well
above her knee, and was tightly secured by laces that Sylvester deftly worked from bottom to top. The
boot felt heavy and she was happy to let her foot down to the floor when he was done. Sylvester
repeated this with the other foot, quickly lacing the left boot up her leg, from ankle to mid-thigh. Her
feet were positioned as if wearing very high heels with stiff ankle supports; not uncomfortable, but not
normal for her, either. “Odd boots,” she thought, hazily.
“Stand up, my dear,” said the older man. Susan needed his firm grip to regain her balance. Woozy, she
found that the boots made her really tall and that she was now able to look Sylvester in the face at eye
level. But they also felt strange. They didn’t have heels but had wide, heavy soles, instead - their
construction forced her to stand on the balls of her feet. She was not used to this and found herself
gently shifting her weight to maintain balance. The enforced posture of her bound arms and elbows,
combined with the stiff collar made this all the more difficult for the foggy girl.
“What are these things?” she asked, with a note of rising concern in her voice. “They are just the
proper, specialty footgear for this outfit,” Sylvester said, reassuringly. “How do you like them?” he
asked tenderly. “I’m not sure,” she said, gingerly stomping each of her feet. “They’re not really all that
comfortable, and they’re not easy to stand in, especially all hitched up, as I am at the moment.” She bit
her lip and gazed at herself, again, in the mirror. What she saw was at once unfamiliar and
disconcerting, though not necessarily unpleasant. The boots’ soles were shaped like horse hooves and
made her stand on tip-toes, straining her calves. But their length and the elevated heels exaggerated
her height and made her seem wonderfully lean and long-legged. She felt both sexy and scared.
Despite this, she was now more sure than ever that this was not going in a good direction, and she
definitely felt like she was losing control - had lost control -- of the situation.
“All hitched up!” Sylvester laughed. “I like that. Yes, you are quite nicely hitched up, aren’t you, my
dear?” He smiled warmly at her; she smiled somewhat hesitatingly back at him.
“Almost done. Shall we complete the outfit?” he said, cheerfully. The bound and booted girl did not
really answer, but stood gently shifting before her reflection in the mirror. Moving behind her back,
again, Sylvester produced a final set of straps that he held in front of his young employee’s face.
“What’s this, now?” Susan asked, this time with real unease in her voice. “This is the final element of
the ensemble,” Sylvester breezily replied. “It just fits over you like this…” he said, reassuringly. Before
she could fully comprehend what this latest piece was, Sylvester had slipped the bridle and harness over
her head and began to adjust straps and buckles around her forehead, chin, temples, and at the back of
her neck.
Susan suddenly tried to shift away from Sylvester’s grip, but lost her balance in the strange boots and
began to topple over. He firmly grasped her arms and prevented her from either falling over or breaking
free. “This is wrong – it’s a horse bridle, and these are horse shoe boots!” she implored. “Let me go and
get me out of this stuff!”
“No, no. Don’t worry, Susan,” he said reassuringly. “There is nothing wrong here, and you’ll be fine.”
“Just one more item and you’ll be complete.” Before she could respond, Sylvester produced a hard
rubber piece – a bit -- and held it up to her mouth. “Open up, my dear,” he coaxed. Susan’s eyes
widened and she shook her head. “Everything’s OK, now -- you’ve come this far. Let’s get you
completed!” He looked intently at her, boring into her eyes with his. She looked back at him for a long
moment – hesitant - feeling lost and helpless. She focused her gaze on the hard rubber piece and a
shiver ran through her body.
And then, wordlessly, she opened her mouth to accept the bit.
Sylvester quickly attached the bit’s ends to the bridle, and pulled it snugly into the pretty young
woman’s mouth. Susan tried to speak, but managed nothing more than a garbled whimper. Sylvester
stepped back and gazed at his intelligent and hard-working assistant -- now bound, booted, and bridled
– as she stood in front of him, shifting nervously from one hoofed foot to another.
“You don’t really need that bikini anymore,” Sylvester purred. “You’re quite nicely dressed as it is,” he
said as his fingers gently untied the knot of bikini top and worked it out from under the leather straps
that encircled her breasts. Susan flushed as she felt her breasts now fully exposed. She was
embarrassed, too, as she sensed her nipples harden. Her cheeks flushed. Sylvester noticed this with
satisfaction as he knelt to attend to her bikini bottom. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this piece off. I’ll get
you a new one,” he said airily as he worked a pair of scissors on the light fabric at her hip. Susan shifted
uneasily on her tall hoof boots as Sylvester worked the remains of her ruined bikini bottom out from
under the snug strap that ran between her legs. Sylvester commented approvingly on her freshly
shaved mound. She flushed even more, quivering involuntarily as she felt herself growing warm and
moist down there.
The gagged girl meekly tried to protest this, but once again only produced unintelligible garble.
Having successfully transformed his pretty and capable young assistant into a magnificent new ponygirl,
Sylvester gently turned her toward the full length mirror that hung in the stall. As Susan looked at her
reflection, she saw the apprehensive eyes of a young woman with arched shoulders and prominent
breasts, unnaturally tall in strange hoove-shaped boots, mouth contorted around an unforgiving bit and
body encased in a web of tight leather straps stare back at her from the mirror. She was ashamed and
intrigued all at once.
“You’ll need a tail, of course,” Sylvester whispered as he turned her toward the door. “But that can
come later. First, you’ll need some light pony training.”5
“A tail? Pony training?” Susan wondered. “Where is this going?” she thought to herself as Sylvester
attached a pair of reins to her bridle, picked up a short leather riding crop from a shelf in the corner, and
led her out the stable door into the barn’s exercise yard.
“Please lift your knees,” he commanded, as he tapped her rear with the end of his crop.