Pony Trap Chapter Two




Chapter 2


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Inside the shade of the long block they had past when arriving, the two black dominatrixes in their pristine white blouse and jodhpurs outfits, with the bizarre top hats eased their hold on the squirming Thomas.

He could now see that the rooms he saw from the outside had comfortable but exposed housing. There was a bed, desk and chair with a TV screen in each. A rear door in one of the compartments was open onto an ensuite. So he guessed that each had their own bathroom facilities, like comfortable hotel rooms.

The air was cooled by humming air-conditioning units dotted about the raised ceiling two stories above them.

Another dominant woman, though only as tall as Thomas, and this time white skinned, strode towards them. She wore exactly the same uniform as the two tall black women. A white blouse with elegant  patterning down to the bust, jodhpurs, thigh length boots and the absurd but striking top hat.

She was followed by a French maid wearing the sexualised short uniform seen on the internet, who could only keep up by walking briskly in her heels.

Thomas gasped at the sight of the maid. He grinned as all his fantasies about screwing a maid in her uniform rolled into his brain like an electric current. Behind them clanked the deeper fantasy about being a sexualised maid for a dominant woman.

The white dominant woman stopped before Thomas. “My, my. They get cuter by the day! Look at that pert little nose.”

She put her fingers under his chin to raise up his blushing head. “And what’s your name luscious?”

One of the black women quickly said, “We saw him first, Miss Grey. Anyway, you have enough with Poppy.”

Thomas noticed that the maid wore a steel collar with a small screen at the front, which read : “Poppy, dumb maid”.

The white woman,  now Thomas understood to be called Miss Grey, said, “You can never have too many boys to play with Miss Olive,” she turned to the maid, “can you, Poppy?”

Poppy appeared terrified to speak, looked down at the ground and said, “No Mistress Grey.”

Wow! Thomas’ erection twitched. The maid was so gorgeous and spoke so passively. She’d be great fun in bed! As much as Thomas loved the idea of dominant women, submissive sexy girls like Poppy would pass the time very nicely indeed.

Miss Olive said, “The Master has asked me and Miss Khaki to take care of him.” Then she grinned evilly, “He just loves the pony girl outfits, don’t you precious?”

So, Thomas reasoned, the white dominant woman was Miss Grey and the black woman still holding him was Miss Olive, while her friend is Miss Khaki. Ok. Thomas was getting a  grip on the situation in which he had barely any control. Like a leaf being blown down the street.

It was then he realised he ought to reply to the black dominant’s question. “Well Miss Olive, I think most guys like sexy pony girls, don’t they?”

The three women laughed loudly just as two pony girls trotted out from one of the cells and into the sunlight with bells tinkling. The neat collection of bells were gathered about the various harnesses they wore.

The white Miss Grey ruffled Thomas’ hair as if he were a little boy. “And I bet you’d love to try them on, eh, boy?”


He was flabbergasted. His wife , Izabella, had tried to give away his secret about dressing in girlie clothes, back at the steps in the presence of The Master, but he felt he had covered it up. Obviously, Miss Grey was joking. She couldn’t possibly read his mind.

“Aw, just look at him blush,” Miss Grey laughed. “Oh my god you make my knickers wet!”

Miss Khaki said to the two pony girls, “Girls! Come here!”

The two girls, without a second thought, turned on their heels and returned to them.

Thomas felt he needed to lie down. They were exquisite in their strappy, black leather corsets. Dark tights ran from their high heeled boots up to the high cut corsets, that rose above the thighs but disappeared down between the legs. They wore leather bindings on their wrists and wore the feathery plumes on their heads as Thomas had seen with the two pony girls pulling the cart outside the gate. These plumes were in fiery orange and a soft green.

Around their necks were the steel collars with the long screens reading their names and the term: ‘Pony Girls’.

Miss Grey laughed. “Aw, look at your boy! He is gawping like a free man.”

The two black women laughed, Miss Khaki said, “Put away that tongue boy!”

Oddly, their mickey taking aroused him even more. His erection was now visibly stiff in his pants.

Miss Khaki pressed her hand into the small of his back propelling him close to the pony girls. He could see their vivid eye makeup and pink lipstick around the bit stuffed cruelly in their mouths.

Miss Khaki said, “Go on boy. You want to stroke them. They are only pets. Feel their legs!”

The dominant woman spoke with such authority that he crouched down and with wide eyes, brought up his fingers to one of the girl’s thighs. Was he really allowed to do so? He ran his fingertips down her thigh, feeling the silky smooth tights, and felt precum at the top of his cock.

He gasped.

Miss Grey crouched down beside him with exaggerated concern.

“What’s wrong boy?”

“Well,” Thomas felt uneasy about mentioning it, but Miss Grey seemed so sympathetic that he said, “Miss Grey, look. Her boots are locked on. Just behind the knee.”

He reached around to hold the silver lock.

“Aw, of course boy. You don’t want silly pony girls taking off any of their gear now do you? You want to know that once dressed they remain dressed until giving permission to remove an item. Look.”

She rose up onto her heels and as soon as Thomas was upright, she showed him the various locks dotted about the corset.

“The girls are dressed as instructed, then remain so until unlocked. What do you think about that?”

Thomas didn’t know what he thought. He just wanted to rub his erection until he came. His brain swirled. Not only the sexiest attire imaginable but a form of bondage too. All his fantasies rolling around inside him making him feel sleepily aroused.

Suddenly Miss Olive pulled Thomas away from Miss Grey and the pony girls, saying, “we found him first!”

Miss Grey smiled, “Well the poor little mite isn’t collared. So right now, he doesn’t belong to anyone.”

Collar? Belonging? What the hell was going on here? If he wasn’t so aroused, Thomas was sure he could make sense of what was happening. But the only people he felt unintimidated by was Poppy, the silly looking maid and the two adorable pony girls. He just didn’t have the courage to speak up in front of these confident women.

Miss Khaki narrowed her yes, as if irritated by the short confident Miss Grey.  “Though not allocated a collar, he’s come with his wife.”

“Ah,” Miss Grey appeared disappointed. “And where is this fortunate woman?”

The two black women laughed as a cart was pulled past the open doorway by a man in a white shirt and black jeans.

Miss Khaki said, “She might feel more lucky than you think, Miss Grey.”

“Why is that, Miss Khaki?” Asked Miss Grey.

“Because she’s being shown around by The Master!”

At this remark, the three women laughed and was it in Thomas’ imagination that Poppy looked sorrowfully at him, as if taking pity.

The twin pony girls simply looked ahead at the open doorway.

“In that case,” Miss Grey said, “shall we say ex-wife?”

The three women laughed uproariously at this comment.

Thomas knew he was the butt of their joke but not why, so he tried laughing along.

Miss Khaki broke off her laughter to say, “Oh Miss Grey, may we borrow Poppy for a short while. We have to get the new boy scrubbed up for The Master. I’m sure she’ll show the little boy the ropes.”

Again, the women laughed at the mention of the word, “ropes”, leaving Thomas forcefully grinning, though bewildered.

Miss Grey smiled, “Of course. You borrow something of mine and I,” she ruffled Thomas’ hair, “can borrow something of yours one day.”





Soon, Thomas was left alone with the delectable Poppy in one of the open rooms.

Having given a series of instructions to Poppy, out of Thomas, earshot, the dominant women marched away laughing as the pony girls trotted away into the golden sunlight.

Thomas immediately relaxed and was ready to seduce Poppy. After all, Izabella, his wife, was eager enough to dash off with the handsome Master back at the mansion, so why shouldn’t he flirt a bit? Poppy was one of those girls who was evidently easy to get on with.

Poppy drew a concertinaed door shut across the open room, cutting out the warm sunshine and leaving them both in the chill of the air conditioning.

“Just look at you!” Thomas announced as the door clicked home. “Are you the sexiest girl here?”

Poppy turned and glared. “If you were as smart as you think you are, you’d clear out of here straight away!”

What? When did maids speak like that to their betters?

Thomas made a stand, “Now listen. I thought you were a maid and wouldn’t maids …”

Poppy cut him off, “Is your wife really with the Master in the manor?”

“Don’t know what it is to you, but yeh! So what?”

Poppy sighed and shook her pretty, but clearly vacuous head, so that her blonde hair waved about her face.

“Do you want some advice?” She asked.

Her voice had lowered a tone. It was almost masculine. All the passivity and timidity, the maid had exhibited with the three dominant women had vanished.

“Sure. Yeh. Not sure I should be taking advice from a maid but go on.”

She closed her eyes as if Thomas was the biggest dolt in the world.

When she finally opened them, she said, “Go and find your wife and your car and just go. Don’t ever come back!”

“I don’t know why you’re saying that, perhaps your mistress, Miss Grey would like to know what you say when she is out of sight.”

For a long while they locked eyes, Thomas full of confidence because after all, Poppy was merely  just a maid.

“Ok then,” Poppy said. “ You can’t say you haven’t been warned. Strip and go into the shower cubicle.”

Thomas felt unnerved. He didn’t like it when the dominant women ordered him about so to be pushed around by a mere maid, was going too far.

Again, the standoff, while he remained fixed in position and the maid folded her arms beneath her boobs.

Finally, Thomas said, “Well, all right. That’s what I was going to do anyway.”

The maid continued in the flat masculine tone, “You’ll find hair remover in the cubicle, use it every where bar your eyebrows and head. No hair to be left anywhere on your body.”

“Well …”

“If I were you,” Poppy said, with one eyebrow raised, “I’d get my arse in gear. You’ve found yourself the two most sadistic dominant women in the camp! You don’t want Miss Khaki and Miss Olive to come back with you unshowered or,” she grinned sadistically, “with a single hair, not even a pube on your body!”

Thomas swallowed. “Ok. All I want to see is more of the pony girls. If this is the price of admission, then fuck it. I’ll shower now.”

The maid shook her head again. “And if I were you, I’d avoid any cuss words. The Mistresses do not like it from boys.”

Thomas laughed. “If I want to fucking ‘fuck’ like a soldier on leave then I’ll fuck like a soldier on leave. Now remember you are only a maid and show me the hair remover.”

A long sigh before Poppy said, “I don’t know whether to laugh at you or take pity on you.”

6 thoughts on “Pony Trap Chapter Two

  1. Wonderful, Thomas trapped by his own irresistible fantasies and willingly falling ever deeper into the enticing trap. Poppy may be a dumb maid but she’s Mensa material when compared to Thomas


    1. Indeed Chris, can’t help wondering if Thomas will regret not listening to Poppy. But there again, who pays any attention to a cute maid?

      Deborah Ford

      1. Miss Ford—

        I just so love those boots! Any idea where one might be able to find a pair? And they lock too. Pure temptation!

  2. Yes, Thomas is so besotted that he hasn’t realised that Poppy is a Sissy Maid, although Miss Grey hinted clearly enough. Are the ponies Sissy Ponies too? No doubt we’ll find out, eventually.

  3. LOL, indeed. I suspect that most Deborah Ford readers would have recognised Poppy for what she is from the getgo.

    … in answer to your question you haven’t reached part three I see.

    Deborah Ford

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