Angela was bored.

Oh yes, at first it had been hard for her to get used to the fact that she would never have the use of her arms and hands again, and yes, the initial weeks of having them fastened up between her shoulders, steel banded together at wrist and elbow, had been exceedingly hard; but now she was used to the fact that she was totally unable to help herself, and would always be looked after by her Master, however he decided she should be cared for.

For the moment, she lay back on the couch, dressed only in her harness, bridle, and bit, lazily watching the TV, occasionally kicking her booted feet against the short hobble that joined her ankles. It never came off, and so she had grown used to it, also. As usual, she wore her room leash; a light but strong chain some 20 feet long, and that too she had grown used to - knowing that she would not be allowed more freedom than that at any time for the remainder of her life. The other end of her leash was heavily locked to a sturdy ring, it solidly set into the floor. It was nice, she reflected to just lay and stare at the TV in a mindless haze, compared to how she spent much of the rest of her days. Suddenly, as usual at this time of day, while she watched the TV through the framework of her blinkers and the bit arms projecting forward from her entrammelled mouth, she felt a firm tug on her reins. Unable to resist their demand, she rose swiftly and somewhat awkwardly to her feet, turning to face me. I maintained the tension. She, my Horse Woman, whinnied querulously, intensely disliking the movements of the bit within her mouth, although over the past months since our marriage, she’d almost become used to having to wear it all day and night, every day also.

It had not been an easy adjustment for Angela to make, having been used to the freedom of being a woman on her own terms; yet, her present state was one that she’d yearned desperately for in some future existence; not realizing that she would soon be irrevocably and deeply ensnared within her role ... for the rest of her life!

I took her from the relaxing environment of the TV room and a moment later had her out in the back garden for a period of exercise and practise walking, cantering, and galloping. Naturally, I kept her on lunge and bit reins during this exercise, ensuring she was kept constantly reminded of her new status with a judicious use of the long, buggy whip across her juddering buttocks while she circled me on her reins. I spent nearly an hour at this pleasant pastime, then disconnected the lunge rein, and, with a firm tension on the controlling lines to her bit, drew her back into the house and down to the Playroom. It was time for her stamina training. This was to be much more intense and strenuous. Every day, now, I required that she complete a prolonged stint on the machine that she’d grown to dislike intensely. Restrained as she was though, there was no possible way she could avoid her coming travail. Despite her whinnying protests and fighting against the command of her reins, she had to follow me obediently down to the sound proofed cell containing the treadmill. At one point she tried to resist what she knew was coming, standing braced and bent forward; but after a brief writhing fight against her reins she stumbled, almost in tears, into the Playroom then up onto the treadmill’s belt.

Moments later she was hitched in place.

Her hobble chains ensured that her paces would have to be small and very fast, keeping her on tiptoes in order to run. Safety straps from the overhead frame to her harness were clipped to the rein guides at the top of each shoulder, then came the fastenings she dreaded. Shivering and controlled by her regular reins, she looked fearfully into my face while I concentrated on completing them. Her tearful silent pleading expression made no impact. It was going to happen whether she wished it or not. Her training here was only one of the many parts of her contract of slavery.

Fine, yet sturdy chains connected the rings on the long bit arms to the thick, stainless steel U’s, each deeply mounted in her nipples. Her wonderful breasts heaved with fear and arousal while I cupped them in my palms, then I released the left one, and with a small click of the snap-hook through the right nipple U, imprisoned and tethered the tumescent, trembling mound. The chain betokened an embarrassing imprisonment and bondage that she, as a Horse Woman, submitted herself to every day. My hand dropped away from her warm, goose-bumped breast and Angela couldn’t help the yelp of discomfort that welled from her throat when she again had to accept the control that could be exerted with only small tensions on her sensitive and hardened nipple. A small up-welling of fluid emerged unbidden from the flinty nubbin and she whined and shivered, twisting in her harness when my mouth fastened over it then teased it to even further erection, suckling avidly. The vacuum I created over her straining, steel-impaled flesh was astoundingly arousing for there was no way she could stop me or avoid it. My teeth nipped and nibbled lightly around the deeply transfixing steel, tugging gently, while across and around the entire surface my tongue wove and writhed, flickering back and forth with maddening, unavoidable teasing. She whinnied frenziedly and jerked her head frantically against the singular, for the moment, connection, making her regular reins sway and snap over my back. Her head jerking though was soon a thing of the past, for with every twitch, it tugged painfully at her breast also!

A moment later, her left side was similarly a captive to the bit! With a subdued whinny she moved her head cautiously against the restriction of the inter-connecting chains. It turned what little she could manage and she stared resentfully at me, knowing that there was more to come. I smiled at her evident uneasiness and restrained arousal, asserting that really, this small ceremony each day was necessary, despite her apparent desire to escape her fate. Oh, certainly, she wanted out; and right now; but at the same time she knew that she couldn’t escape what was about to occur. When I slowly tightened her bearing reins, her head was drawn erect and back to enforce my desire that she carry herself proudly. The sounds of the straps being adjusted added to her sense of bondage and being controlled, then I tightened them even more!

A sharp yelp of discomfort pulsed her steel collared throat when suddenly, she felt the connecting chains pulled smoothly upwards, immediately placing her nipples and breasts under an increasingly painful strain. She stood utterly still, panting from the discomfort of the demanded posture and the inescapable tensions to her chest, her mouth jacked open by the twisting of the steel bit within. Angela’s eyes followed my fingers and hands when I moved in front of her, watching fearfully while I clipped the Treadmill’s Control Reins to the central ring of each inter-connector chain.

There was no way out for her.

If she attempted to look down, the bearing connections stopped her from lowering her head; and when she tried to twist away from the approaching reins, the chains immediately dragged painfully at her nipples. She had to hold still for her fastening. Another whinny; one of despair emerged from her bitted mouth while I clipped them in place, and her eyes rolled desperately from side to side within the limits of her blinkers. Unthinkingly, she shook her chest to try and escape the weighty drag of the U’s and chains from the tips of her breasts, only to have her head dragged back around by the masses of the swaying, fleshy globes.

With brimming eyes, she fearfully watched the controlling lines being led out in front then locked to their connection points. The rings to which they were clipped, though solidly affixed to the frame of the treadmill, were in fact attached to spring-loaded, sliding switches. For the moment they looped slightly downwards. I coiled her regular reins in my left hand, then looked deeply into her eyes and face, shadowed within the blinkers.

"It's time, Slave Horse Woman Angela."

At her back, I connected a dangling coil cord to a jack on a short wire emerging from the cinch of her harness. Its other end was connected to a deeply skewering dildo mounted securely on the interior surface of her tightly clamped crupper.

Angela’s whinny of misery at what was about to happen to her echoed hollowly around the small sound-proofed room in which she was to be left for the next 4 hours. She began to prance in place, nervously straining to prepare herself. My hand moved to the control console, then beneath her booted and steel-shod feet the belt began to slide away from under her prancing hooves. I stepped back, having activated the automatic exercise program she was compelled to submit to each day, then came to stand beside her while she jogged along, held in her place on the belt. She couldn't turn her head to look at me, for the blinkers required her to stare directly forward at her reflection in the mirror; concentrating on walking and running within the confines of the shortened hobble.

"See you in a couple of hours, Slave Girl."

A whinny of pleading to be released from her travail boiled from around her bit and a string of saliva escaped the tightly drawn steel; but there was to be no escape for her. Angela had to do as she was commanded. After a final check on her restraints, I walked to the end of the room then closed the door softly behind me. She heard the muffled click of the three locks when their bolts shot home, imprisoning her in the hidden chamber at the far end of the deep basement.

Now completely alone she began the part of her daily stamina training she had begun to hate and fear after just the first day. She was completely isolated in her room of torture and tears. Other than the treadmill and her chains, only a pair of video cameras broke the desolation of the stark concrete walls, ceiling, and floor. The room was brightly illuminated by bulbs within armoured glass domes in the ceiling; but she knew that her exercise chamber was completely sound proofed and no one would hear her screams, sobs, or her desperate begging to be freed.

At first she was walked slowly, being warmed up for the more strenuous exercise to come. For the moment, the gentle snubbing of her hobble chains, tugging against her wide steel ankle cuffs, was only a mild annoyance, and she was easily capable of maintaining her required position. Even so, the movements of the reins to her inter-connecting chains made her tensioned and unsupported breasts swing uncomfortably back and forth, tugging constantly at her bit. Damn! Why hadn’t he harnessed her more fully? Her other ones had some sort of bra-support built into them, so why not this one? Then, Angela realized that this was not only exercise, but discipline too! She attempted to lower her head to ease the tension; but the tight bearing reins prevented any relief. As a Horse Woman, she had to endure the very uncomfortable restriction as best she could.

The treadmill slowly began to accelerate and the sounds of her steel horseshoe shod feet upon the belt increased to a staccato beat. The snapping of her hobble wires became a continuous slithering accompaniment to her bondage, and, to keep up with the increasing speed and avoid the tugging control and demand of the treadmill’s reins, she had to rise up onto the toes of the steel-shod boots when she began to jog. Naturally, her breasts also began to sway and bounce more and more with her increased exertion, and in moments the painful and continual jerking of the steel shackles embedded in her nipples became a torment she couldn’t ignore. Sharp moans of distress echoed in the small chamber; but she was completely alone. No one heard her cries. It felt, to Angela, as though the thick steel posts in her nipples were intelligent demons of torment! For a minute or so she was kept at this pace, then once more the machine accelerated! Her keening wail of despair filled the room while her flying feet fought to attain the speed that was required to hold her place; but it was a losing battle. Slowly, she was drawn further and further backward along the treadmill belt!

Wildly apprehensive, her eyes flickered back and forth within the limiting confines of the blinker panels while she observed the slow, inevitable tightening of the chains to her nipple/bit inter-connector chains! With a bit gagged and strangled scream, she howled helplessly, still trying to keep up with the insatiable and ultimately unfulfillable demand of the machine; anticipating the pain that was soon to be hers.

The fastening of her bearing reins and wearing of the blinkers forced her to look ahead and observe the tightening of the potently controlling lines fastened to her body! They slowly straightened, then, while she continued to loose ground, they began to pull ever more firmly at the evil chains! The dragging at her breasts and nipples soon became an unbearable burden, and she screamed wildly, trying to run even faster! For a moment, she succeeded in easing the tension, and managed to stare wildly in tears a little off to the side, then the demand of the treadmill reasserted itself when she slowed. Its speed now remained constant and her feet and legs were a blur of motion, her hoofs thundering along on the speeding treadmill belt. The snapping hobble wires sounded as a constant background, for now, her stamina was being truly tested. Angela could barely manage to maintain the speed that had been reached and when she failed to do so, she was subjected to the horrible, inescapable drag on her breasts and nipples! Gasping wails of tear-filled desperation from the effort to maintain her speed pulsed from her collared throat; but she was helplessly chained and vulnerable; totally alone with no one to take pity on or release her. She couldn’t help but slow eventually and of course when she did, the reins to her chest tightened into straight lines of thrumming, painful discipline. Angela ran on and on, endlessly encouraged by her fastenings to improve her endurance.

Suddenly the tightening reins activated a switch!

Deep within her loins, the dildo unleashed at first a mild series of electrical impulses into the surrounding flesh! She screamed lustily and almost collapsed from the intimate torture; writhing her hips and lower body instinctually and automatically to try and escape the pulses. Again and again they transfixed her most private possession, then, in a wild flailing of disorganized legs, she lost her footing on the speeding belt! Her nipple restraint chains tightened even more, escalating the power surging through her body and wringing yet more agonized screams from the captive woman. The pulses ceased for thirty seconds and she struggled frenziedly to regain her position, knowing that if she failed the shocks would again discipline her for not attaining and staying at the demanded level of exertion. Tears of fear and misery trickled from her eyes and down her face under the tight straps of her bit. Shaking her head against the restriction of the bridle, its bit, and the tight reins, she tasted their saltiness, weeping piteously, trying to beg for her freedom. It was no use. She was condemned, by her own hand, to spend her life like this!

At last the machine slowed, and although she felt that she’d been running for hours and hours, in reality it had only been 30 minutes. She was allowed to rest for 5 more of 'walking out', then a low chime sounded from the pedestal.

Once more the treadmill slowly increased its speed, until she was again drawn into the hazy world of unending exercise; wailing and pleading for release while being driven to further and further heights of pain and pleasure. She was a totally owned and controlled Horse Woman.

Deep in her mind a clock seemed to slow, and somehow it felt to her as though she’d always done this, and that she would always be here, in this room. The next 4 hours were an endless time of solitary trauma for the captive Horse Woman. On the television set in the living room upstairs I watched her perform, as her program demanded she should. The Exercise Chamber, equipped with 2 strategically placed, colour TV cameras, presented me with multiple views of her straining and entrammelled body.

She’d asked to be made into a Horse Woman.

Now, her dream was coming true; but in a much more intense fashion than she’d ever imagined was possible.