“We must get on though my dear. Can’t dilly dally all day.” With that she guided me to turn around and gently helped me lean forward until I was bent over the table. I just docilely followed her lead so confused was I by the emotions bubbling inside me.
Then her fingers returned to my sex, which was now so openly exposed between my now slightly spread thighs. She pried apart my lips and probed inside. Even in my confused state I felt the invasion and knew it was wrong and tried to bar her entry, but she was too strong and insistent and I was too slick and sensitive to put up any real resistance.
“My, my, what a surprise,” she said, “still a virgin at your age.” She was clearly surprised. “What a find! Clearly we won’t be needing a dildo to keep you occupied, eh dear?” I was beginning to recover my senses now and that statement sent a chill through my bones.
I could hear her moving around behind me and she was fiddling with something in one of the boxes against the far wall. I was unsure what to do. Had she finished with me? Should I try and straighten up? I decided I’d count to thirty and if she hadn’t said anything by then I’d stand up and try and draw her attention to unbinding me.
I counted slowly, nervously. It seemed so incongruous. She was humming away happily as she worked away but just a few feet away from her there was I, naked, gagged, bound and bent over her table: exposed. I reached thirty but hesitated still. At last I could wait no longer and began to pull myself up – without my hands to push myself up I felt my abdomen muscles straining.
“Stay as you are,” she said firmly. She hadn’t finished with me after all.
I continued to wait. My tension was growing as I wondered what else she had in store for me during this bizarre “registration” process. I had now pretty much come down from the cloud I’d been flying over.
“Ah, this I think will do.” She said, as if to herself and she walked back over towards me. I felt something soft and silky touch my shoulder and back. “Yes, it’s a reasonable match, certainly the best I’ll find from my limited stock.” I just couldn’t comprehend what she was talking about and what she was trying to match.
I felt the soft material, almost fluffy or furry, now laying against my forearms as Mrs. Hurst firmly planted one of her hands, which was grasping the material, over the small of my back. I realised it was so that she could hold me in my bent over position.
I had only a moment to consider what this might mean when I discovered the answer. Something cold and slick pressed between my buttocks. She obviously knew exactly how I’d react since I immediately tried to leap up and found her weight pressed down against me to hold me firm.
“Calm down, no need to get all worked up and excited, a ponygirl has to have a tail. Hold still.”
A tail! I was shocked as I put two and two together and, alarmingly, got four. I remembered seeing the other girls with tails protruding from behind them, but I hadn’t considered that they’d been rooted in their bottoms. Unfortunately for me my shock had frozen me in place and without my bucking there was nothing to stop Mrs. Hurst from her nefarious plan. With a twist and a push the frighteningly large plug was embedded in my rectum.
That certainly got my attention and I immediately tried to expel the intruder. A smack on my bottom and a commanding “No” soon put a stop to that though. “You are a feisty one aren’t you. Definitely in need of a firm hand.”
Next she ensured that I would be unable to push the tail-plug out by fastening a strap between my legs. It descended from the belt at my belly, neatly but firmly, between my labia and then trapped the plug before being fastened to a small strap that was attached to the belt behind me. Once she’d tightened the strap to her satisfaction – causing me to yelp out loud through my bit as it dug into the sensitive flesh of my pussy – I felt the material of what I now knew was to be my tail brushing against my legs as she clipped it some how to the base of the plug.
This had to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. I felt like I would die of shame. Of course its silly to think of that now. My imagination just had not yet caught up with possibilities since I, at that time, could not imagine that there could be something more embarrassing than having a tail plugged into my bum. How naďve I was. If anything that moment was really very tame compared with what was to come, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Mrs. Hurst then took a gentle but firm hold of my shoulders. “Up you get,” she said as she helped me straighten back up. The horrid tail swishing behind me and that, to me, enormous plug penetrating my bottom. The movement made it feel worse than it had when she’d forced it into my body. How could those girls put up with this treatment, I thought. At the same time though I felt the strap between my labia move minutely. It grazed ever so slightly against my tender clitoris. I would have gasped if I hadn’t been gagged by the bit.
Almost absent-mindedly she reached up and tweaked one of my hard nipples. “You clearly like your tack don’t you, eh? I know it’s all still new for you and you’ve got to get used to a lot of new sensations, but its obvious to me that you were born to be pony. Your hot little virgin pussy and these taut nipples shout it even more loudly than your asking to join the club.”
Her finger continued to caress the soft flesh of my breast, stroking gently across the marble surface to the nub. I couldn’t believe the amazing feelings that her touch was eliciting. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, I didn’t want to join the club, but the waves of pleasure rushing from my breast every time her fingers gently gripped and slightly tugged on my nipple caused my resolve to weaken. I began to doubt myself. Maybe she was right, after all I’d just ‘enjoyed’ my first orgasm while being bound up as a ponygirl and I’d never felt sensations like those that racked my body since I’d innocently started to undress for Mrs. Hurst. Each time though that that forbidden though entered my mind I pushed it aside, no she’s wrong, I would tell myself. Each time though a wonderful light squeeze on my nipples melted my thoughts.
When she turned her attention instead to my other breast my mind was reeling with confusion. All the time she was softly telling me, “You’re a lovely ponygirl,” “I am so proud of you,” “You love this don’t you,” “This is what you’ve been looking for, for so long, isn’t it”. In my clouded mind I wasn’t really registering what she was saying, but her soft tone was very comforting. My eyes had drifted closed as she touched me and I revelled in the new feelings. On one level I knew that I should be protesting loudly at what she was doing to me, but each touch and word were so pleasant and soothing that I held off for a few more moments.
All the torment and embarrassment of the plug and tail seemed to have evaporated and the moments without me complaining extended until it seemed that it would be silly to protest now, and besides the plug didn’t hurt that much and it was just part of the ponygirl outfit. She’d just done her job of registering me, I thought, I’m the one who deceived her, if there’s anything sinister here then it’s my subterfuge.
“Now then, these pert teats are ready,” she announced giving each of my nipples one final pinch. Then without ceremony or further comment I felt two sharp stabs of pain. My eyes shot open in shock and I saw two delicate plastic tipped metal clips gripping both of my nipples. I could only grunt behind the bit. I instinctively attempted to jerk away from the pain but of course I couldn’t get away from it. All I did was cause the clips to swing slightly and tug more against my abused flesh. Worse though was the little tinkle that came from the small spherical bell attached to the bottom of each clip.
“Wonderful aren’t they. They’ll announce your progress and anyone who hears them will look to see the beautiful ponygirl.” She said it so sincerely that I could believe that she really meant it. To her it wasn’t yet one more horrendous humiliation but a nice touch to draw admiring attention.
I needed to tell her that she was wrong. I needed to get the clips off my nipples. I began to shake my breasts from side to side trying to shake off the little devils, but of course all I managed to do was make them tug even more violently and painfully on my poor nipples and creating a soft peal of musical tinkles as the bells accompanied my endeavours.
“Oh, you like them don’t you!” Mrs. Hurst said with a pleased tone. “Proud of your nice titties aren’t you, and rightly so. I’ll make a note in your file saying how much you love nipple bells.”
No! I wanted to scream, she’s completely misunderstood me. It seemed that every signal I tried to send her to get her to stop, she would mistake as happiness. So I resolved to stay calm and try not to compound the mistake I’d made by coming here by appearing more enthusiastic.
“What an excellent find,” she murmured to herself as she made the incriminating note on her pad. When she finished, she turned back to me and said “Now then, just your boots to do I think and then we’re finished with the tack.” I felt immensely relieved that the end was now in sight, and that if all that was left was as straightforward as boots.
She quickly checked my shoes for size and then opened a cupboard and rummaged around inside.
Of course the boots turned out to be strange ones, unsurprisingly rather like the pair the blonde ponygirl had been wearing earlier. They were high heeled, but without a heel, instead they had a metal instep that arched the sole of the boot. The metal bracket attached to what appeared to be horse shoe that swept back. It took the place of the heel in ensuring that the boot wouldn’t topple over. I guessed from the shape of the instep that the boot was the equivalent of a four or five inch heel. I’d worn a few sandals with three inch heels, but nothing as high as four, let alone anything like this strange boot.
Without the use of my hands I had little choice but to follow her instructions as she guided my right foot into the first boot. She took firm hold of my foot and calf and placed it into the boots leather grip before zipping it up encasing my calf to just below my knee. It felt very strange as I put my weight on to my right foot. My weight was taken on the ball of my foot and my toes, but the leather was tight and I could feel my sole and heel moulding against the firm base of the boot. Unlike a traditional high heeled boot I could feel my heel dipping under my weight as the metal instep flexed.
Mrs. Hurst didn’t give me time to get used to the boot before moving onto my left foot. In a few moments I was standing at least four inches taller than before in the strange footwear.
I’d already been taller than the other woman, but now I felt like I towered above her. It didn’t give me any sense of power or superiority though. I think it would be hard for anyone dressed, or rather undressed, and bound like I was to have any feelings of power.
“Good. I think they’re a good enough fit. Of course you’ll have to get some custom ones made, these aren’t a good enough fit for racing or anything too strenuous, but should be fine for today. Lets see you walk back and forth a few times to make sure they’re OK.”
With that I found myself gingerly walking the four or five paces across the small tack room. I was terrified that I’d fall over, if I did I wouldn’t be able to stop my fall with my hands. Mrs. Hurst didn’t seem too concerned though and luckily I made it across the room without trouble.
The boots completely changed my gait, I found my hips swinging more than usual, but that could have been the plug I supposed. The swing caused my tail to swing and brush across the back of my thighs. It was only then that I realised that I thought of it as ‘my’ tail rather than something external to me, something that had been done to me. On each step those infuriating little bells rang out lightly as my unencumbered breasts jiggle slightly.
The worst of it though was the way that the thin crotch strap tugged slightly on each step. It wasn’t enough to rub anything or cause discomfort, but it was enough for me to notice and keep my mind focused on my still engorged clitoris.
She had me walk back and forth a few more times and I became more confident. The boots actually felt more stable than my lower heeled sandals. I guessed it was the way that the horse shoe provided a wider area than a traditional heel and thus meant that it was easier to keep my centre of gravity above the stable base.
Once she was happy with my performance I found myself standing by the white wall. It was then that I saw that she’d once more picked up the camera. I almost panicked. She couldn’t take a photo of me dressed like this, that was just too much and I started to step forward. I wasn’t sure what I could do to stop her.
However, her commanding voice once more stopped me. “Stand still! I need a photo for your file,” as if that made everything all right. What could I do anyway. She quickly took a couple of pictures. “You make a beautiful ponygirl, and should be proud. I know this is all new to you but I’ve gone through this lots of times with young women just like you. It will all be OK,” she reassured me. Then she had me turn sideways and took another photograph and finally a rear view. I realised too late that these would clearly show my tail and was mortified.
That paled into insignificance in my mind though when after Mrs. Hurst had put aside her pad and picked up a long leash and a riding crop. She clipped the leash on to the front of my collar and tugged on it saying “Come along, you’re finished. I’ll file all the paperwork and you can go and join all the fun.” I was horrified as I realised that she meant for me to go outside as I was, as a ponygirl.
I did my best to plant my feet and strained so that she couldn’t pull me forward, couldn’t pull me out to the sunshine and ultimate embarrassment. Mrs. Hurst was having none of it though.
“Come on now. You don’t want to miss the fun. I know you’re a little shy and nervous about your first time out in your tack, but we both know that you love it.” She reached down between my legs and ran her fingers along my still slick labia and then pushed firmly against the strap that separated them right over where it rubbed against my clitoris. That caused me to involuntarily buck my hips against her hand. “You’re soaking wet! It’s just a little nerves, I can understand that, but we don’t have all day and besides ponygirls don’t get to decide where they go and when. You’ll just have to get used to being obedient, otherwise this delicious bum of yours is going to take on a permanently rosy glow.” As she said that she brought the crop down firmly against it causing me to jerk forward away from the sudden pain.
She tugged once more on the leash and this time I took a step forward. My mind was screaming at me to think of something. I couldn’t go outside like this, but it was also obvious to me that I couldn’t stay here. I was sure that Mrs. Hurst would tan the hide of my bottom too, before she’d change her mind.
One step became two and then three and I was watching her open the door and tug on the leash to lead me out into the warm sunny late morning before I could find a solution to my dilemma. A quick tap of her crop spurred me to take the final fateful step into the courtyard.