Trainee Ponygirl

by Xaltatun of Acheron

This work is copyright 2000-2004 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum. It may be reformatted to match the forum's look and feel, and the forum editor may make minor spelling and grammer corrections. Otherwise it must be posted in its entirety, including all warnings and copyright notices. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.

Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.

Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.

OK - now on to the story -------


“Why am I doing this?” was the thought that burned through Sally’s mind for perhaps the thousandth time as she consulted the directions scribbled on a note card. Then the light turned green, and she made a left turn on to the inconspicuous industrial road.

The road wound around past several non-descript buildings that might have been warehouses, or anything else that could have been inspiring only to a 19th century industrialist. Sally’s thoughts wound around to match: bouncing between a fluttering in her guts and an entirely different sensation directly below.

Finally, she found the building whose address adorned the bottom of the note card. Her thoughts came to a conclusion as well: she was here because of that damn porn tape she had watched with her boyfriend. She’d thought she was fairly blasé about sex, but something about seeing a naked girl pulling a cart reached in and twisted. That damn tape kept intruding! She couldn’t get it out of her mind, and her boyfriend wasn’t helping! He’d been dropping not so subtle hints that he’d like to see her in a bridle and harness.

So she’d finally come to a decision. She’d try it. That had worked before with other things she’d become fixated on. Some had gone away, and some she had added to her life. This one, she devoutly hoped, would go away.

She followed the signs to the assigned parking area, and looked around. Assigned parking looked more like a row of condo garages, each with its rollup door. As she arrived, door six rumbled its way up. She pulled the car into the room, and got out as the door rumbled its way down behind her.

“Hi! You must be Sally!” a cheerful voice assaulted her from the doorway in back.

“Huh?” Sally spun around.

“I’m Mira,” the possessor of the voice announced. “You’re here to learn how to be a ponygirl, and I’ll bet you’ve got butterflies breeding in your stomach right about now!”

“Uh, yes,” Sally responded, looking at the brunette framed by the door. Mira, she discovered, looked like she was around 5’10”, with a head of soft brown hair that tumbled onto her shoulders. She wore a tight blouse of some softly iridescent material, tucked into a soft kidskin short skirt. Her height, Sally suddenly realized, was mostly due to her shoes. She seemed to be standing almost on her toes in a pair of shoes that only had fronts! They were held on by a leather strap that buckled around her instep, and then buckled again around her ankle.

“Like my pumps?” Mira asked. “They’re absolutely great for the figure. I’m supposed to show you around and get you ready for your first session.” She turned and walked out the door on her not-heels. After a couple of steps, she turned and looked at Sally standing in bemusement beside her car. “Coming?” she asked. “You can still turn around and flee for your life; or at least, for your sanity!” she giggled.

Sally came to with a start, and then followed Mira out the door into a dimly lit corridor, heels clicking in the stillness. Then they went down a back and forth stairway to a large room below the garage spaces.

As she walked in, she saw her reflection in a long mirror that stretched from one wall to the other. The mirror sat above a table and bench. To her right were banks of lockers, and on her left was a large, tiled open shower area with unusually large drains.

The redhead in the mirror, she saw, actually looked composed, which was certainly not how she felt.

“Undress and put it all in your locker. You’ve got number six,” Mira said helpfully.

“Undress?” Sally replied, a bit faintly.

“You don’t think ponies wear clothes, do you?”

“Oh,” Sally said in a small voice. “They wouldn’t, would they?” She reached for the buttons on the back of her blouse. A few minutes later, the redhead had her clothes neatly hung in her locker.

“Good!” Mira said. “Now we’ve got some paperwork to do.” She took a number of papers from a folder and placed them on the table, and gestured toward them. “You need to sign the training contract, and a couple of releases.”

Sally padded over to the bench, stepped over it and sat down. She leafed through the contract, and then signed it. Mira added her name as a witness.

“Great! I just know you’ll love being a ponygirl,” Mira enthused. “Now, let’s get your footwear. You’re not ready for hooves yet,” she said as she took a pair of the same kind of half-shoes from a box. “These should be your size.”

She bent down in front of the startled girl, and slipped her right foot into the enclosure. “Bend your toes, that’s a good girl.” Then she snapped the straps closed around her instep and ankle. A moment later, she had her left foot shod.

“See if you can stand on them,” Mira said.

Sally got to her feet and staggered a moment before she steadied. “Oh!” was all she said as she discovered that the half-shoes forced her to stand in full extension.

“The next thing is to secure your arms,” Mira told the naked girl. “This is your first real piece of ponygirl bondage. There’s no agreement among the aficionados about how to do it, so we’ll start out with an arm binder. We’ll do a number of other methods in future sessions until we find one that really suits you.

“Arm binders,” she continued as she took what looked like a large sheet of leather from the wall, “are sort of like a single glove. It just wraps around your arms, and fastens around your shoulders so it doesn’t fall down.” She held the leather up so Sally could see it.

“Now just bring your arms behind you and fold your hands,” she instructed. Sally turned, and Mira slipped the glove at the end over her hands. “Now we just bring it up under your arms and fold it over,” she said as she brought it up and buckled the top strap. “And now we’re going to take the straps and buckle them around your shoulders so it doesn’t fall off. There’s actually a strapless version of this,” she nattered on as she brought a pair of straps under the girl’s arms and slid them through a ring that settled just above her breasts. “But that puts a bit more strain on the wrists,” she added as she brought two straps over her shoulders and wove them into the gleaming ring. “Now to tighten it up a bit.” She walked back behind the girl and threaded the rest of the straps, pulling them tight enough to take up the slack in the leather, but not so tight that they pulled her shoulders away.

“Comfy?” she asked. When Sally opened her mouth to reply, Mira held a finger in front of her lips. “Horses don’t talk, girl. They make all kinds of interesting sounds, but talking isn’t one of them.” She looked at her charge critically for a moment. “We can put you in a training collar, and that’ll keep you from talking. We normally don’t introduce our trainees to it for a few sessions, but if you think it’ll help?”

Sally shook her head, eyes wide and red curls flying.

“Well, let’s see how you do without it,” Mira smiled at her and bestowed a small kiss. “You’ve been good so far. Now I need to put a halter on you,” she said.

“You know what a halter is?”

Sally shook her head again, eyes wide.

“Well, it’s kind of a rope bridle. It’s a bit looser, and it doesn’t have a bit or reins. It’s there so the pony can have a lead rope attached. It looks like this,” she said, holding up a maze of ropes so Sally could look them over. Then she slid them over the ponygirl’s head, and tightened the slipknot under her chin. “See the lead rope?” she asked as she held it up.

She gave the lead a twitch, and then pulled her charge to the other end of the room, where she ran it through a ring on the wall and tied it off.

“You’ve been a good girl,” she said, running her hand familiarly down the girl’s front, caressing a breast in passing. “Wait here for your trainer. But then, you don’t have any choice about it, do you?” she chuckled as she gathered up the contract and walked out of the room.


A couple of minutes later, Mira walked back in. “I’ve changed my mind,” she told the tethered redhead. “Your trainer is running a bit late, so there’s time to introduce you to the training collar.” She took an open circle of metal from the wall and walked back. “This is a collar,” she said as she showed it to the girl. After a moment, she brushed the pony’s hair back, and slid it around her throat and then closed it. “Good fit,” she approved. She took a power riveter and held it up to the flanges in the back. The gun jerked, giving off a soft clunk when she pulled the trigger.

“Try to tell me something,” she instructed.

“Aaak!” Sally made a garbled sound. Her eyes widened as she tried again, and nothing recognizable came out.

“Good!” Mira said. “This collar blocks your ability to talk. Now, let’s see if you can whinny.”

Sally looked at her, startled.

“Well, open your mouth and push the air out. It’s sort of jerky, like this,” Mira whinnied and then laughed.

Sally made a sound. “Not bad for a first attempt,” Mira said, a bit critically. “Now just put a bit more emphasis on it.” Sally tried again. After a few more attempts, Mira decided that it would do for the moment.

“Well,” she said, “your trainer should be along any time now.” And she turned and left, leaving the novice ponygirl tethered to the wall.


Sally wasn’t left to contemplate the wall for long. A few minutes later, she heard a clopping sound getting louder. Then two people walked into the room through the door that Mira had used to leave, or rather, a man leading a ponygirl by a rope halter.

“Well, let’s get you groomed and out of here,” he said to no one in particular. “Oh, hi. You must be the new novice,” he exclaimed as he saw Sally. “Just stand there while I finish up with Dancing Water.”

Sally watched as he dropped his clipboard on the shelf in front of the mirror, and then lead the ’girl over to the shower area and tether the rope to a ring on the wall. Then he put a plastic smock on over his clothes and walked up to her. He pulled the showerhead, which was attached to the end of a flexible metal tube, off the wall and proceeded to drench her. Then he dipped a long handled brush into a container, and proceeded to lather her from head to toe. When he finished lathering her, he rinsed her again, and then took out a brush and drier and did her hair.

All this time, the girl stood stolidly in the shower, dripping, her arms bound crosswise behind her, acting for all the world as if being washed by someone else was an everyday occurrence.

As Sally took in the sight, she thought she’d die if someone washed her down like that. Then it occurred to her that her training session would probably end the same way.

Shortly after that, the trainer finished blow-drying his charge, and led her into the center of the room. He took a tool that looked somewhat like a pair of real ambitious pliers off a shelf, and did something that Sally couldn’t make out with the metal bindings on Dancing Water’s arms, and on the back of her collar.

She walked into the line of lockers, and he sat down at the table, and frowned over several of the sheets on his clipboard. He made some notes, and then dropped most of them into a folder, and put the folder into the out box on the end of the table.

“So, how was I?” the first girl asked as she reappeared, fully dressed.

“You’re improving,” he replied as she sat down at the table and began to freshen up her makeup. He pulled a sheet out of his clipboard and frowned at it for a moment before checking some boxes and writing on it. “Now, I want you to do these exercises this week; but don’t overdo them this time, right?”

The girl looked at the sheet and frowned. “Tell that to Fred,” she said.

“He needs to remember that if you push it too fast, you damage yourself rather than strengthening the muscles. You tell him from me that either he quits interfering with your exercise program, or he can get you a new trainer.”

“Is this guy good, or what?” Sally thought to herself as she watched the exchange. “Who knows?” she shrugged mentally. “He may just be full of himself, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”


“So,” the trainer said as he picked up his clipboard and walked over, “you’re the new girl. Sally?”

Sally nodded and made a strangled noise. Then she remembered herself and gave a credible whinny.

“I see Mira already taught you to whinny,” he said, making a couple of marks on the clipboard. “Let’s get started.” He unlaced the lead rope from the ring and tugged. Sally almost toppled over as she tried to follow him on her tiptoes. The trainer looked over his shoulder at her, and noticed the stumble.

“Legs hurting, girl?” he asked.

She made another indecipherable grunt, and then nodded violently, red hair bouncing up and down.

“See if you can make it out to the practice area,” he coaxed her as he turned and tugged on the rope. She groaned and walked after him.

He led her down the corridor past several doorways, and then turned into one. They went up a ramp, turning a couple of times, until they rose onto a grass and tree covered lawn. The trainer led her to a nearby tree, and looped the lead rope over a branch, cinching it with a knot. He walked around her, studying her and making notes on his clipboard, and muttering to himself.

She took the opportunity to look around. There was a short leather strap hanging from the tree limb she was tethered to. It fell to about the level of her breasts, and looked like it ended in a snap hook.

They seemed to be in a very pretty meadow, which was surrounded on all sides by what looked like an eight foot high stone wall. Above, there was some kind of translucent roof; at least, she couldn’t see anything through it, although it seemed to let the light through.

There seemed to be a cabinet against one wall. She also noticed a couple of buggies lined up resting with their shafts on the ground.

“Well, let’s do something about those feet,” the trainer announced. “I take it you’ve never worn shoes that high,” he half asked.

She nodded.

“Well, you’ll learn if you continue after this first session. Right now, let’s get them off so you don’t harm your feet.” He bent down and tapped her right leg. She brought it up, and he unbuckled the odd looking shoe and removed it as she swayed on the other leg. Then he did the same for the left shoe, and made more notes on the clipboard.

“You can go barefoot for a little while, then I’ll probably put you in sandals,” he said as if he didn’t really care if she heard him or not. Then he walked over to a cabinet and took something out.

“This is a bridle,” he said as he walked in front of her and held the assemblage of straps up for her to inspect. She looked at it with interest. Unlike the halter that currently encased her head, it was made of thin leather straps, with metal rings holding some of the straps together, and with rivets holding the leather together in other places.

“One of the things about bridles is that they need to fit snugly. Halters can be loose as long as they don’t fall off, but bridles have to fit well so there’s no play in the reins.” Sally nodded soberly as she looked at the thing.

“What I’m going to do next,” he told her, “is to clip this leash on your collar so you don’t wander off while I take off your halter and put on your bridle.” He hung the bridle over the tree limb, and snapped the hanging leash to her collar. Then he twisted the knot under her chin and slipped the halter off her head.

“Hold still while I do this,” he instructed as he brought the bridle back and draped it over her head. He buckled one strap under her chin, and then buckled two more behind her head.

One strap ran around her head about an inch above her eyes. It held a small ring fixed in the center of her forehead, and another one in back. Another strap ran up and over her head from the ring in front to the one in back. A small metal piece held the front ring to another that sat just where her nose joined the rest of her face. This held two straps that came down to rings on either side of her mouth, framing it. Another strap ran from the rings on either side of her mouth around the back, where they met in a ring that held the back strap.

The mouth rings held another strap that came under her chin. The strap that came down the back of her head finally ended in a single ring just above her collar, where it joined a strap that encircled her neck. Each of these straps had a buckle, which the trainer now proceeded to tighten until he was satisfied that it fit snuggly.

“That should do it,” he pronounced as he stepped back. “If you stay with us, we’ll make up one that fits your head exactly. That’ll be less trouble all around.”

“Now open up,” he continued. She somewhat bemusedly watched herself open her mouth for him to peer inside for a moment. “Always check a horse’s teeth,” he chuckled. He walked over to the cabinet and came back with a gleaming metal contrivance.

“This is a bit,” he announced as he held it up. Sally looked at it a bit cross-eyed. The contrivance had two parallel pieces a couple of inches apart, joined by a rounded bridge. “Now hold your mouth open while I install it.” He inserted the bridge between the two pieces into her mouth, and slipped the ends under the bridle rings on either side, snapping the latches closed so it was firmly attached to the bridle. Sally worked her mouth around the intruder for a moment before she realized that it wasn’t going away. The rings held the bit firmly against her upper jaw, her teeth fitting into indentations in the metal. She found a similar set of indentations on the bottom that received her lower teeth.

After a moment, she decided that the strangest part was the way the bridge held her tongue down, and forced her teeth into alignment.

As she came to terms with the intruder in her mouth, her trainer walked over to the cabinet and returned with a long leather strap and a whip. “Reins,” he said as he held the strap up in front of her. Then he snapped the ends onto the bars that dropped from the sides of her mouth.

“Now we start practicing, girl,” he told her, unsnapping the leash from the D-ring on her collar. He walked over to the side, playing out the reins until they were taut.

“Walk forward,” he instructed. She moved experimentally, and suddenly felt the pull of the bit to the left. She turned to take the pressure off. He guided her around in a circle for a few minutes, letting her get used to the constant pressure of the bit.

“Stop.” She stopped.

“Now, I want you to lift your leg so the knee comes up to your hips, and the calf stays straight up and down,” he commanded. “Start walking.”

She started again, lifting her legs as commanded. A few steps later, she faltered, one leg not coming up properly.

Crack! The whip laid a thin line of red against her exposed bottom. She jumped forward with a mewling cry, jerking the reins and causing her head to snap around.

“Keep those knees up,” he commanded. She settled down and began walking again; paying careful attention to how high her knees were coming.

“Good,” he said. “Stop.”

She took another half step, and stopped.

“Go.” He twitched the reins slightly. She swung her right leg up and began stepping forward.

“Here’s the cadence,” he called out as he pressed a button on his belt. A drumbeat sounded in the clearing. After a couple of steps, she fell into the rhythm. He nodded, slowly turning as she circled around him, keeping her legs high.

“Stop.” She stopped. “That’s a walk. Now you’re going to do a trot. It’s faster, and you don’t lift your legs.” He paused a moment. “Go.” The drum picked up again, twice as fast as before. She picked up the cadence easily, it wasn’t, after all, so different from a fast jog.

He let her trot for a few minutes, looking closely at how she was breathing. The first time she faltered, he drew another thin line of red across her ample bottom. She jerked again, and then picked up the pace. Just before it looked like she was going to lose the pace again, he commanded: “Slow down to a walk. Don’t lift your legs.” The drum dropped its pace at the same time. She slowed, breathing heavily.

He let her walk for a few minutes until she began breathing more normally. Then he commanded: “Stop.” She stopped.

He walked behind her, making sure that he maintained a light tension on the reins. “Now,” he said in a conversational tone, “we’re going to work on rein signals a bit. Walk and bring your knees up!” He fingered the button on his belt that started the cadence. She started walking, paying attention to how high she lifted her knees. Apparently she didn’t want another taste of that whip!

He walked behind her for a while, holding the reins in his left hand and the whip in his right as he directed her down one path and then another. He nodded in satisfaction as his charge slowly settled into the rhythm of the drumbeat, paying attention to lifting her legs and letting the pressure of the bit in her mouth direct her movements.

“Very good!” he finally called. “Whoa!” He pulled on the reins as he gave the order. She stopped as the drum gave a final beat, and then stood, breathing heavily. He walked in front of her and looped the reins over a tree branch, making sure that they put a light pressure on the bit.

“Now,” he said, noting her start. It seemed that she had really gotten into the exercise. “I’m going to harness you for some cart work.” He walked over to the cabinets and took out a leather band that was festooned with lots of leather straps, rings and buckles. “Hold still while I get this around you.”

He slid the leather band around her waist, and settled it snugly over her hips. He spent a minute tightening the straps until she almost gasped. “Good,” he said, almost as if to himself. “The last thing we want to do is for it to slip.”

Then he unwrapped the reins from the tree branch, gave them a flick, and said: “Go. Watch your legs!” She started high stepping to the cadence of the drum. This time he noticed that she was breathing in her chest, making her breasts move in and out. He nodded. She was getting the idea.

A moment later, he’d guided her to one of the two single seat sulkies. “Whoa!” he said as he pulled on the reins, leaving her standing just in front of the shafts. “Turn!” He pulled on the left rein as he said that, walking behind her so that he got her positioned facing away from the shafts. “Now back one step. Another one. And another. Stop!” He smiled to himself. It wasn’t often that he got a real novice positioned just right on the first attempt.

“Now,” he said conversationally as he lifted the reins over her head, “when I leave the reins drop in front of you, it’s called a ground tie. When I do that, you’re to stand there until I pick them up again.” He dropped the reins and picked up the shafts of the sulky. He picked up one of the traces and threaded it through a buckle on the leather belt, leaving it buckled loosely. Then he did the same to the other trace on her left side, leaving the shaft hanging from the traces. He walked around her and did the two traces on her other side, tightening them until they were fairly snug. Then he walked back over to the left, and tightened the traces until the leather was taut. He tightened the traces on the right one more notch, leaving his charge rigidly attached to the shafts.

He picked up the reins and walked back to the seat. He flicked the reins. “Start!” he commanded, watching closely to see what she would do. He nodded as she shifted her stance to push forward, getting the sulky moving. He felt more than heard the hidden electric motor pick up the slack as he adjusted the control until he had a fairly light drag.

He spent the next few minutes guiding her back and forth, watching her dig her feet into the path as she dragged the sulky behind her, her back shifting slightly back and forth as she breathed in her chest. He nodded as he saw her fall into the familiar semi-trance where she paid attention to her footing and let the reins move her now to one side, and then to the other.

He noticed her breathing becoming more labored as they went on. Finally, he guided her back to where he had originally harnessed her to the sulky. “Whoa!” She stopped. “Now back one step,” he commanded, watching as she shifted her stance to push back. “Now another,” he commanded as he pulled lightly on the right rein. She obediently pushed back at an angle. “Now another. Good. Now another. OK. Whoa!” He pulled the brake lever and got out, dropping the reins in front of her.

Then he unbuckled the traces and took off the waistband. He chuckled to himself as she started breathing in her abdomen again. It shouldn’t be too hard to train that out behavior out of her once she started to have longer sessions.

He walked behind her, shook the reins, and commanded: “Walk. High step!’ The worn out ponygirl tossed her head, but obediently high stepped onto the path. A few steps later, he had guided her to the door they had used to enter the exercise area. “Whoa!” He walked around her and shifted his grip on her reins so that she had about two feet of lead.

“Time’s up,” he said conversationally. “Let’s get you washed down and groomed.”


The trainer led Sally back through the warren of corridors to the locker room. Sally looked at the shower area with some trepidation as he led her into the center and tied her lead rope to a ring in the wall. She didn’t notice as he pushed a button on the wall. Two slots opened in the ceiling. A light chain descended from each one, an open wrist cuff dangling on the end. The cuffs stopped descending when they reached the level of her hips.

She started as she felt him clamp the cuffs on her wrists and then unbuckle the arm binder. When he took it off, she brought her arms around and held them up, looking at the cuff that encircled each wrist, and the chain that swung toward the floor before ascending to the ceiling. A moment later, she gave another startled whinny when the chains tightened and dragged her arms away from her body, stopping when they were far enough above her head for her upper arms to be spread horizontally.

She looked back and forth from one pinioned wrist to the other.

 “We start off,” the trainer said conversationally, “with a thorough wetting.” She tried to turn to look at him. He walked around her and took a shower head from where it was clipped to the wall, on the end of a flexible tube. She noticed that he had donned a rain cape to protect his clothes.

Sally relaxed as the many little jets of warm water soaked her hair and skin. She closed her eyes and turned a bit into the warm pressure. All too soon, it was over.

 “Next,” he said, “comes the lather.” He twisted a fixture on the shower head, and it blasted out a thick, white lather which he proceeded to massage into her skin with a large, shapeless sponge.

“Now for the rinse.” He changed the setting on the hose and carefully washed the lather off, starting at the top and continuing down her body, paying particular attention to her hair. He smiled amusedly as she stretched, leaning her body into the spray of warm water.

He next took an air nozzle and a comb from the wall and worked on blow drying her hair. Her red curls bounced back as he brushed them out.

Then he ran the hot air down the rest of her body, leaving it dry. “All done,” he pronounced as he hung the rain cape up to dry. He unclipped the snap latch on the cuffs and gave a tug; they obediently began to ascend back into the ceiling. Then he took her leash and led her out of the shower area.

Sally walked out of the shower and stood in the center of the room, waiting. Her trainer unclipped the lead from her collar, and then picked up the oddly shaped tool she’d noticed an hour before and gripped the collar with it. She felt the ring encircling her throat jerk and suddenly come loose and settle onto her shoulders.

The trainer removed it and handed it to her. She took it mechanically, staring in bemusement.

“You can talk now,” he told her.

“I can?” she answered without thinking.

“Rather obviously,” he chuckled.

“How does it work?” she asked, looking at the hinged metal that no longer encircled her neck.

He shrugged. “It does something with the nerves that control your vocal chords, tongue and mouth. While it’s activated, you can’t make them work together to talk. That’s all I know about it.”

She looked at the metal with more respect. “That’s clever. How did I do?”

“Fairly well for the first session. If you want to continue, call the business office and set it up for a week from now. Meanwhile,” he consulted his notes, “practice walking in the toe shoes every day. Don’t overdo it! We want to strengthen your feet, not cripple them. Have you got an exercise club you use?”

“Uh. Yes.”

“Good. Start shifting your program around to concentrate on stamina and on lower body strength. Do exercises to tighten your tummy muscles. When you’re at home, spend a few minutes every day practicing breathing with your chest. You might want to get a corset to keep your belly still while you’re practicing.” He handed her the sheet.

She looked at it and nodded. “What’s next?”

“More work. You’re coming along nicely. Don’t worry about it; we’ll tell you what to practice when you’re ready for it.”

She nodded, and walked up to her locker, still holding the hinged metal circlet. She barely noticed the trainer filing her paperwork into the out basket and picking up the next folder from the stack. He studied it a minute, and slid the papers onto his clipboard. Then he walked over to where a muscular brunette was tethered to the wall, untied her and led her out the door.

A few minutes later, she’d dressed and slid the toe shoes into her purse. She sat at the long table restoring her makeup when Mira cleared her throat.

“How’d you like your first session?”

“Um,” Sally answered as she carefully applied a light shadow to her left eye. “I haven’t had a chance to think about it.”

“Want a second session?” Mira asked.

“I put those damn shoes in my purse, so I guess I do,” she answered, a bit flustered.

“How about a week from today, same time?”

Sally dug her organizer out of her purse and looked at it. “That’ll work,” she said as she entered the appointment. “You know, I still can’t believe I’m doing this, but then I can’t believe I just did it either.”

“You know,” she added as she checked her other eye, “I really don’t know what I’m getting out of this. Possibly,” she muttered almost to herself, “either a new career or a new boyfriend.”


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