Pony Trap Chapter 3 

Deborah Ford

 

(Not exactly like Thomas’ predicament, but worth adding just for itself!)

 

There’s a problem with erections, of which most of you will not be aware.

But Thomas was most certainly aware of the problem at that moment. He was stood, naked, glowing from the hot shower and completely denuded of hair by the fragrant lotion, Poppy, the sexy French maid, had directed him to use.

So here he was feeling deeply exposed, as Poppy smirked at his predicament in the small room in the stable.

Around them they could hear the whirrs of cart wheels, the steps of high heeled pony girls with their ringing bell, along with the intermittent calls of the amused dominant women.

Covering his erect private part and bulging balls, Thomas tried to sound forceful. “Poppy, where are my clothes?”

Poppy raised her eyebrows as if she was the superior one in the room, despite her short sexy maid’s uniform. She lifted the lid on a large white box, which must have been brought into the room when Thomas’ clothes were removed.

She lifted out a small package, and from that removed a set of tights, holding them out before an engrossed Thomas.

“For me?” he asked.

The maid held her head to one side, “You loved the feel of the tights on the pony girls, here’s your chance to try them.”

Glancing at the closed long door across their room, Thomas accepted them. Oh my God they were so sexy. So smooth and silky.

“Well, Thomas said, half to himself, “I guess it’s only us here.”

Poppy gave him that horrible knowing look, with the raised eyebrows and a smile that slid to one side of her face.

Well fuck her, Thomas thought. I just need to be quick. He could try on the hose before the dominant women returned.

He just had to try them! How could it hurt?

Poppy was offering advice on how to wear them when with great satisfaction she realised that Thomas was quite experienced at rolling them up his now smooth legs and pulling them into place, each leg in turn.

They were high waisted, and once in position Thomas was still able to see his erection pushing out through a hole around his groin.

“Poppy there is not a front to these tights!”

“Nor at the rear, silly!” Poppy laughed.

Thomas felt in horror at his backside and could touch the skin through a large gap.

“But,” Thomas was perturbed, “I don’t understand.”

Already Poppy was bringing out the next item: the leather corset he had seen the pony girls wearing. It seemed thicker in her hands, but it had the same long frontage that would take it between his legs.

Thomas said aloud, “Oh my fucking God!”

Poppy snatched back the corset from his outstretched fingers.

“You really must learn not to swear. The Misses will use your bare bottom for whipping practice if they heard you.”

Thomas ignored her, seizing the corset to admire its many straps and fixtures.

He pushed his arms through the straps at the top and pulled it around himself.

“You are so silly!” The maid said impatiently. “Turn around so I can do it up.”

Thomas did so, but in a firm voice pointed out. “I don’t think maids should speak like that.”

A zip was  clipped together at the small of Thomas’ back.

Poppy said, “You’ll soon learn who you have to behave deferential to. It becomes a sixth sense, quick enough. Especially, if you want to sit down comfortably! Now breath in!”

Thomas complied with the instruction sucking in his tummy and feeling his shoulders roll back.

“In more!” Poppy demanded.

Each time Thomas breathed in a little more, so the hefty zip was dragged upwards.

“It’s too tight!” Thomas said. “You have the wrong size!”

“Breath in!” Poppy shouted with more impatience than you’d expect from a compliant maid.

Thomas did so, easing out the last bit of air in his lungs. At this point the zip slid quickly up his upper back.

“Good boy,” Poppy said, exhaling as if she had been exercising.

Thomas felt panicky. “Poppy I can’t breathe!”

This time she sounded sympathetic. “Oh, don’t worry your little head over it. We all get used to it and the Master likes his girls to have small waists. A small price to pay to please the dominants here.”

Thomas ran his hands down the curves that had appeared at either side of his waist. Astonishing! Then he noticed that there were two small boob shapes at the front, right where a woman’s breasts would be.

“Spread your legs,” Poppy said.

“Eh? Thomas was aghast. Wouldn’t that be totally humiliating to be stood legs spread before her?

Poppy crouched down and said more firmly than Thomas could imagine a maid speaking, “I said spread your legs!”

Thomas did so, feeling his smooth soles slide on the wooden floorboards.

Poppy reached between his legs and fastened the corset tightly between his thighs. It clamped firmly over his erection but left a gap at the rear where the hole in the tights was. His backside felt exposed and vulnerable.

Thomas gasped. “It’s too tight Poppy!”

But already, the maid was dragging out more long leather items.

The high heeled boots!

Thomas took in a deep gulp of air at the erotic sight of the thigh high boots.

Poppy said, “Until you get more experienced, it’s best to sit down at your first attempt when putting them on.”

Thomas sat on the wooden chair in the room as if in a dream.

He had a pair of heels at home that he wore when dressing up, but nothing as classy as these beauties.

Resting the boots before him, Poppy said, “Make sure you push your foot to the very tip. It’ll feel crushed, but you’ll get used to that, like the corset.”

The silky tights helped his feet slide luxuriously into place in the tight compartments of the shoes. Already he felt the arch of his foot, as the heel was forced erotically upwards. Under the corset, his erection engorged further. This was pure heaven.

With his feet fully encased in the extraordinary footwear, Poppy said, “Stand up straight.”

He did so.

Poppy pulled up the zip of each boot in turn until they both hugged his legs up to his thighs as forcefully as could be imagined.

Poppy relaxed and looked him up and down, as if seeking faults.

“I think the mistresses will be delighted with you!”

Feeling complimented by her remark, Thomas turned and admired himself in the full-length mirror.

What a sight!

The corset had shrunk his waistline and flared out his hips to girl proportions. The heels made his legs look long and adorable.

Poppy smiled, “Its not all bad being a  pony girl, is it?”

“Oh Poppy!” Thomas said, examining his darkened hose covered thighs. His dick actually spurted a little precum inside the corset layer, but he tried to keep his mind on an even level. “I can tell why you are only a maid! This is all for my wife. She’ll look stunning in this outfit.”

Poppy laughed and said, “Of course. Now face me.”

Thomas turned obediently, there was something about being in this outfit that made him feel subservient, more ready to obey.

Poppy appeared very concerned, “I hope the Miss colours like it.”

Thomas laughed. “No way is anyone going to see me dressed like this.”

A sympathetic smile appeared on Poppy’s pink lips. “Aw. We all feel like that. And funnily enough, you never really get used to being ogled by lusty mistresses and Masters.”

The door was dragged back, letting golden sunlight and the exterior clammer to roll into the compartment.

Thomas instinctively put his hands over his groin as the two tall mistresses entered their room.

Miss Olive said, “Mistresses and Masters, Poppy? What thoughts are you filling our trainee pony girl’s empty head with?”

Miss Khaki entered behind her, and they both filled the room with a thunderous presence.

“Thomas said, “Oh shit. Look. Sorry! I have to get changed. Poppy hid my clothes.”

The two black giants laughed.

Turning to a terrified Poppy, Miss Olive asked, “Has a new pony girl behaved herself?”

Poppy appeared scared witless, her eyes growing moon size, “Yes Miss. Really Miss. Honestly Miss.”

Miss Olive put her fingers beneath the jabbering maid’s chin and raised it up so that they were eye to eye.

“Are you sure, Poppy? You know what happens to maids who fib to their betters, don’t you?

Thomas could see tears forming in the pretty maid’s eyes.

“Oh! Well. Yes. Please Miss, he, I mean she, she spoke back a few times. But other than that …”

Suddenly the two Misses eyes lasered straight at Thomas who took a precarious step back in his heels.

Miss Olive said to Thomas, “Now you are not going to give us any trouble, are you?”

“No, Miss Olive. Truly, Miss Olive.”

Why was he suddenly acting like a naughty schoolboy who had been discovered to have being disobedient by a disciplinary head?

With both the giant women staring down at him, Thomas squeakily said, “I just need to change back. I really don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

Suddenly the mood lightened as the two Misses laughed uproariously.

Miss Khaki came closer and pushed her hands through his hair, “Aw don’t worry. We haven’t finished dressing you yet. Oh my, look at your lovely thick hair.”

Thomas kept his hair long for when he dressed as a girl as he hated wigs. It felt perversely sensuous to have this dominant woman take liberties like push her hand through it.

Miss Olive said, “I can see a few extensions will help here. Maybe dye it blonde?”

Miss Khaki said, “Oh yes. Some lip implants too?”

This was getting crazy!

Thomas said, “Look I really need to change,” he smartly added, “please.”

Miss Olive barked at Poppy, “Hand restraints. Leather. Black!”

“Yes, Miss Khaki.”

Quickly, Poppy pulled a few leather straps from the white box.

Miss Khaki used the same tone of voice, this time directed at Thomas, “Wrists!”

Thomas robotically held forward his wrists as if a button had been pressed within him.

The two women pulled the leather restraints around his arms, just above his hands and placed small golden locks into each, locking them to him. From each restraint ran D shaped links, no doubt enabling them to attach his wrists together or attach him to an object.

They did the same around his boots at the ankles, so that the D shaped links hung inside his legs.

“Stand next to the post, pony girl,” Miss Olive said, indicating the square wooden post that was about seven foot high.

Finding it difficult to walk in the heels, Thomas complied. In part because of this newfound obedience he felt since being attired as a pony girl, but also because he was curious. What was going to happen next? He had to know.

Miss Olive slipped behind the post as Miss Khaki raised his chin with her fingers.

“Pay attention, sissy pony girl.”

Thomas was about to object that he most certainly wasn’t a sissy nor a pony girl when his hands were swept behind him smartly by Miss Olive, who had clearly carried out such a manoeuvre many times before.

In a panic, Thomas pulled on the secured wrists, now behind the post. They barely moved. While he struggled, he heard another click as his ankle D rings were locked to the sides of the posts.

Many times, Thomas had fantasised about being helpless, and always enjoyed self-bondage. Sadly, Izabella only reluctantly indulged his fantasies, so, for the first time in his life, this was the experience of being bound and helpless … and it was terrifying!

He pulled briefly on his wrists and realised they were totally secure. He looked to Poppy for support, but she simply smirked at him.

Miss Khaki put a palm against his cheek, “Aw, don’t worry your little head. It’s all just part of the process.”

Suddenly she closed her eyes and bit into his chin, saying, “Oh my God, I could eat you up!”

For the first time in a while, Thomas’ erection subsided beneath the tight leather corset.

He had to control his panic somehow.

Here he was perched up on the tall heels of the boots, with the tights and body-hugging leather corset locked to a post.

“Erm, Miss Khaki, I think you should know, there has been a dreadful mistake here. You see …”

Miss Olive laughed, “Oh yes boy. Your first mistake was wanking off to our online adverts for The Manor, wasn’t it?” She stepped closer, so, with his new heels, their eyes were now on the same level. “Your little dick is going to get you into all sorts of adventures.”

Taking a couple of paces forward, so that both the Black dominants were in his face, Miss Khaki said, “Aw, you are frightening the poor little boy. Don’t you worry, precious, I’ll take good care of you.”

Miss Olive turned to Poppy, who immediately stood to expectant attention.

“Poppy, why don’t you show this little boy your chastity cage.”

Chastity cage? Thomas felt logic was spinning away from him. How can a girl have a chastity cage? Was this a design he’d never before seen?

Poppy held her breath and raised the front of her petticoated skirts revealing a delightful pair of red panties with little ruffles about the legs.

Thomas’ erection returned. He’d look for a pair of those when he got of this wacky place.

Poppy held up the bunching skirts with one hand while pulling down the front of her panties.

Thomas’ mouth fell open.

There was a pair of bulging balls, a sort of blue grey in colour. But there was no penis. Rather, flat up against the swelling balls was a circular steel contraption. Poppy was a guy! And Poppy’s dick had been pushed back and locked away so that there was no evidence whatsoever of any appendage.

An amber light above the circular metal flashed twice.

Miss Olive leaned so close to Thomas that he could feel the warmth of her breath. “Now, what about that little boy. Ever seen anything like it? A computer controlled chastity cage. Designed by the Master and only used here at The Manor.”

Thomas swallowed. Computer controlled? Flashing LEDs? He felt his guts turn over.

“Please, Miss Olive. I would like to go home.”

On hearing his plaintive cry, both the mistresses laughed as Poppy rearranged herself and smoothed out her short maid’s skirt.

“What’s all this laughter?”

The door had slid back further and the man who was referred to as The Master stood in the doorway. He was just as tall and powerful looking as he had been when Thomas met him on the steps of the manor. His long legs were moulded into leather trousers, and he wore a crisp white shirt, done up to the neck.

What shook Thomas was that his wife was stood next to him.

It shocked him further to see her wearing a tight, short leather dress. She had never before dressed so sexily. She was more a practical sort of dresser.

Her long legs wore black hose, and for foot wear she had the knee length boots that the Mistresses wore.

If that wasn’t sufficiently shocking, Izabella wore a collar, the same as Poppy’s, with the screen at the front. Yet the screen was blank, devoid of words. She also has the leather bracelets around her wrists and ankles that he himself had been forced to wear.

“Izabella? Are you all right?” Thomas asked.

The Master smiled, “Hasn’t the boy been taught to remain silent until spoken to?”

Miss Olive seemed flustered. “We’ve only just started training him, Master.”

Miss Khaki was equally defensive, “He’s not very bright.”

The Master nodded, looking at Izabella, “So I’ve been told.” He then directed his hard gaze at the secured Thomas. “But we need to get him sorted before his training commences.”

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

• 1

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?”

“Erm!”

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.”

Pony Trap

Chapter 1  

Deborah Ford

 

The sight was so arresting that they both stopped arguing and Thomas braked sufficiently hard for his wife, Izabella, to be thrown painfully into her seatbelt.

Having driven on the Sat nav’s instructions through a forest which shielded the sun and emerging into the sunlight at the edge of the woods they were both astonished.

Thomas and Izabella gawped in silence at the two women trotting towards them on the narrow dirt road leading back into the shadowed woodland.

The two women were similarly attired. Both wore tight black, strappy corsets, creating a Marylyn Monroe figure. Matching black tights led down to thigh length boots, the spiky heels of which were easily four inches.

But that wasn’t the amazing part. Not by far.

On each of their heads was a plume of feathers, one in dark blue and the other in a deep maroon colour, bouncing in time with their jogging.

But that was not the amazing bit, still not by far.

They wore bridles. Both of them. A head harness with a horses’ bit between their teeth. The bit was drawn back, appearing uncomfortable in the two women’s mouths. They were both made up, as if for a night club. The darkness around the eyes making the eyes themselves seem huge. Pink lipstick framing the white teeth around the bit.

And still that wasn’t the amazing bit.

The girls were towing a cart with large gleaming wheels down the dirt path. Reins gripped them over their shoulders and around their waists leading back to a third woman sitting in the cart. Their wrists were secured to the  arms of the cart.

As the cart clip clopped closer, so the third woman steering the cart could be better seen. She too was in black trouser suit, with knee high boots, a white blouse with deep frilly decorations scooping down from the neck to her bust and a top hat. Yes, a top hat.

A long whip was set into the cart, perhaps some four feet high. But in the driver’s hand, the same hand that was holding the reins was a long thin crop that was used to slice at the buttocks of the two pony girls in front.

Neither the driver, nor the two pony girls paid them the slightest of attention. Thomas, Izabella, and their car might as well have been invisible.

As the pony girls drew up to the bonnet, Thomas could make out they were wearing voluminous tails held by a harness around their hips.

The cart swept past them in a cloud of dust adding to the dream state in which Thomas and Izabella had succumbed.

“Fucking amazing!” Izabella said, twisting in her seat to see more before the cart now partially hidden by dust clouds, as it disappeared around a curve into the shadows of the woodland.

“I told you,” He gushed. “I said you’d be knocked out by it!”

She slid back into her seat and blinked quickly.

“So sexy isn’t it!” he said, seeking to prompt a reaction.

“Fuck, yeh!”

It was so rare to hear the prim Izabella curse, that hearing two fucks energised Thomas.

“So we can stay the weekend. Yeh?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It all seems pervy to me.”

“But you saw them!”

“Yeh!”

He lowered his voice in desperation, “So please tell me you’ll give it a go.”

“Well,” she paused for an agonizingly long time. “The outfit was super dead sexy.”

“I knew it. I told you!”

He pressed the accelerator and drove towards the high walls, in which there was a huge castle sized doorway of wood.

A chubby uniformed guard slowed him down and approached in a bored languid style, as if he had performed this dispiriting task many times.

As Thomas wound down his window the guard leaned down with a sigh.

“This is all private property, sir. Even the woods and fields. I am going to have to ask you to leave here. Quickly.”

“No,” Thomas pulled out the letter from The Master. “Look. We have an invite!”

The guard scanned the letter and took in the both of them warily.

The weedy Thomas in tee shirt and jeans and the knockout blonde smiling in the passenger seat wearing tee shirt and jeans – but doing them better justice.

After the guard had his eyeful of Izabella, he pressed a button and said something into a mobile phone. The twin high doors electronically opened onto another gob smacking sight. The golden stately home with its pillared frontage, wide steps.

The guard said, “Drive up to the steps and wait for someone to meet you.”

“Many thanks,” Thomas said as they drove into the grounds.

Around the manor house were dirt tracks, pathways and a concrete road, all between lush green fields … and more amazing sights.

Women in the top hatted outfits, decorated pony girls, muscular men and sexily attired French maids milled around or moved purposefully about their duties.

Thomas said, “I’ve come to heaven!”

“Your heaven,” Izabella said. “For pervs like you.”

They drove slowly past a double floored block, with long open doors, showing more pony girls and women with the top hats. Inside Thomas could just about make out small rooms, with beds and sofas. Very curious.

A few cars and a couple of horse vans were neatly parked opposite the house in a parking area, but Thomas drove to the steps as instructed.

He got out with the haste of a child on its first day of holiday. Izabella exited the car a little more reluctantly, but there were no doubts that The Manor was a staggering sight to behold. Like from a movie of an eighteenth century mansion.

A tall, broad man, with dark skin and jet black tight curly hair bounced down the steps. He wore jodhpurs, a crips white shirt, open at the neck from which bushes of hair stole and a huge confident grin.

Next to him were two black women in the black outfits of the cart driver they had seen in the woodlands. They both seemed tall, maybe on account of the extraordinary heels on their knee height boots. One wore a black curve enhancing jacket, they both had the white blouses with the ruffles about their breasts. They also each wore the top hat they had seen on the driver, making them appear to be sexy giants.

Thomas made to say hello to the confident man, but the man ignored him and immediately greeted his wife.

“You must be Izabella.”

“Yes,” Thomas gushed. “My wife. We’ve been …”

The man grinned a wide toothy smile. “You are every bit as stunning as your husband said.”

Izabella giggled and blushed. “Oh really. And who are you, may I ask?”

Thomas pulled back his shoulders and started with, “This is the guy I’ve been …”

But the tall man took hold of both of Izabella’s hands and announced, “I am The Master.” He laughed. “Yes. It sounds corny. But it sort of works around here.”

Two burly men in dark shirts and white shirts, tight around their muscles came down the steps.

The Master addressed them without looking at them. “Take their things inside and park their car for them. I must show this beauty my not so humble abode.”

Izabella laughed in a way Thomas had never before hear. A girly, nervous giggle.

Thomas opened the boot for the men to take out the cases saying to The Master, “My wife saw the pony girls when we came in. She said she’d love to dress like them and I …”

Izabella snapped at her interfering husband, “Not the pony girls, dumb arse! The driver of the cart!” She turned back to the Master, “Where do I sign up for that job?”

The Master laughed easily. “You know I could tell you were the dominant one in your relationship the moment I saw you both.”

Thomas cleared his throat, “Well I wouldn’t say that.” He said to his wife, “But darling don’t you think the pony girls looked hot? I mean those outfits!”

The wife narrowed her eyes but maintained her gaze on the hunk of The Master, saying, “No honey. You thought that. I know how you like to dress up.”

Thomas was speechless. What? She was giving away his secret.

“Erm no, darling, no, oh I see you are having a joke.” He laughed but even to him it sounded embarrassed and forced.

Izabella lowered her voice, as if her husband couldn’t hear, “He’d love to try on one of those outfits.”

The Master pulled back his shoulders, “Is that so. Thomas! These two charming young ladies,” he indicated the statuesque black women either side of him, “I am sure will be delighted to take you to the stables. Take a look at the girls. Take a look at their outfits. And if you are brave enough, why not try one on?”

Thomas’ dick stood to attention in his jeans, so he turned half on to disguise his embarrassing erection.

“Well, Master, I mean,” Thomas, felt defensive, “I don’t know. I was rather hoping to see my wife … you know … she has amazing legs and everything.”

The Master released one of Izabella’s hands but held the other so that she was propelled to follow him as he approached and towered over Thomas.

“Don’t feel coy here, Thomas. We have open views on everyone and their predilections. If you don’t wish to try the outfits, then don’t!” He smiled, “But I have a feeling you’d love to have a close-up view of those gorgeous girls, and maybe a close look at their sexy outfits.”

“Ladies!” he said to the two statuesque women, “Why  not escort our shy boy to the stables. After all he is our guest this weekend, and we must make him as at home as possible.”

“M,M, Master,” Thomas stuttered, “There is no need, really.”

But already the two women, now wearing confident smirks were beside him. He looked at them, feeling they could be a pair of intimidating skyscrapers!

“Erm, thank you ladies, but,” Thomas began, but each powerful woman grabbed one of his bare arms and led him away from the house, back towards the long block they had passed.

Thomas looked back to see the Master run his arm around his wife’s shoulders before leading her up the steps between the pillars and in to the dark interior of the Manor.

Thomas heard the tall man say, “Izabella. Such a delightfully sensuous name. And while Thomas indulges himself, perhaps I can find a way to indulge you.”

To Thomas’ shock, his wife leaned into the embrace and giggled.

She obviously didn’t realise what The Master wanted from her, so Thomas made to twist around and snap out of the clutches of the two women. But his actions made them grip him harder and lift him up so he was now walking at pace but on his toes.

“Erm, ladies. Please. My feet are barely on the floor. I want to go back and tell me wife …”

The woman to his left simply said, “Come on.”

She spoke with such a sharp tone that he was immediately shut up. Only his erection felt natural in the circumstances, and that was growing harder.

Before him lay the block, around which were a few pony girls and more women in the driver uniform with their top hats. It was when he noticed the sexily clad French maids that he stopped struggling and with gawping eyes let the women virtually carry him to the block.

 

Chapter Nine 

 

Melissa

By Deborah Ford

 

 

Needless to say, when a tired and defeated Christian made his way to his bedroom, at the rear of the house, as instructed by his Mistress, he had to pass the master bedroom, from where he could hear both his wife and her Bull grunting and shouting in ecstasy.

He paused in his crisp maid’s outfit hearing his wife bellow her, “Yes, yes, yes”, so loud he felt certain the neighbours would hear.

The horrible lout was growling, “Come on slut!”

Torn between being offended at hearing someone take advantage of his own wife in his own bedroom, and actually wishing he could knock the door and step in to watch them, he sighed, rubbed his panties under his skirt, and moved down the corridor dejectedly.

Never had a sissy maid felt sorrier for herself.

She cursed the penis gag locked around her head and felt the full weight of the serious chastity cage the Bull had locked around his genitals. It was all so unfair.

By the time he slumped on the bed, he was close to tears.

It was then that he noticed the garments on the dressing table, with a note lying on top of them.

He recognised the apparel as nightwear he had purchased for himself some time previous. Silk, bottom hugging shorts with a delicate cut, bias camisole top. They were in ivory white, with embroided lace panels at the front, and fine edging around the straps and base of the shorts.

Sucking on his penis gag, he read the note, which was handwritten by his wife in a scrawl. Usually, she was so precise and neat in her writing. Clearly, she had other matters overloading her mind when she wrote it.

Christian felt doubly cross with the ape who kept his wife in a constant state of arousal, as he read the words:

“You must be wearing these by the time I visit you later. The key for your gag is at the bottom. And Sir says good luck with getting it off”

She had signed it Mistress.

Wow!

Like a distracted child, suddenly all his woes were in the past. He lifted up the top item, the shorts, and saw the matching bra and panties resting on the camisole top. He was to wear bra and panties beneath a delicious camisole top and the most delicate of shorts.

Raising those items, he found the tiny gold key for his penis gag.

And oh my God was it tough to push the key into the lock mechanism when the lock was firmly behind his neck. It was so frustrating! He was just about to give up and cry, when he felt it slide home. Holding his breath, he carefully twisted the key until he finally heard it spring open. Yay!

The lock came out and at long last(!), the gag could be removed from his sore mouth.

When he took hold of the camisole top and bottoms, his dick engorged in its confines, whilst blood also rushed into his head, clearing away any thinking. No maid had ever stripped quicker down to her chastity cage than Christian.

Shaking with excitement, he cleaned his teeth, to ensure there would be no marks on his bedtime outfit and peed, before washing and applying the gentle make up insisted upon by Melissa when he was in girl mode.

Once dressed, he slid into bed, as the silk just made him feel so delightfully slippery. Oh God, he needed to be released from his chastity. It would only take seconds.

Lost in his erotic thoughts, while rubbing his palms down the material, time simply disappeared into his fantasies.

So it was with a start he looked and realised Melissa was standing in the room watching him. How long had she been there?

Her blonde hair was a bird’s nest mess, her black shortie nightie, wet with sweat around her soft, swaying breasts and damp with other liquids at her crotch.

She whipped back the sheet, making Christian curl up his naked, shaved legs in embarrassment.

“Oh,” Melissa said, “Just look at my boy!”

Not daring to grab the sheets and pull them back into position, he simply lay on the bed blushing.

“Just wait until my friends see your legs!”

Christian sat up, his voice apologetic, “Mistress, I don’t really want to be seen in shorts by your friends.”

His wife sat on the bed, pushing her fingers through his gloriously feminised hair.

“Aw. Silly boy. It’s not up to you. Sir says I need to get what I want out of this. And,” she hesitated looking him straight in the eyes, “I want my friends to be shaking with jealousy at your legs, your curvy bum, your appearance and your obedience to me.”

She held him, nuzzling her cheek up against his flushed face.

To Christian she smelled of sex. The perspiration, still fresh, along with the recognizable odours from a woman after being fucked senseless.

“Mistress, I’m sure we can talk this through and find a way to give you what you want without me wearing shorts in front of people.”

She kissed his nose.

“Silly. I know which ones I’m going to buy for you. There’s these delightfully tight, black leather ones with a rear zip, from my favourite fashion shop. They are expensive, but when they see your arse in them, the expense will be worthwhile.  And there’s these pastel coloured, silk ones in a department store. My, how I’ve looked at those over the last few months and thought of you being put in them.”

“You’ve not mentioned them before Mistress.”

She shook her head, “Well I was constantly waiting for you to take the initiative, wasn’t I?” She laughed. “But not any longer. Sir, says everyone has to do the thinking for silly sissies.” She leaned so close to him, that her face was blurred, “But now I am in charge and you,” she tapped his nose with her finger, “You do as you are told.”

“Mistress. I’d love to give them a try. But just for us, not …”

“Now the trick is,” Melissa rolled gently on, no longer having to listen to her boy, “Is to buy them at least one size too small. Sometimes it is two sizes, so we are going to have a few laughs in the shops when you try them on.”

His protests stopped as soon as he opened his mouth because Melissa was on a roll now.

“Oh. Can you imagine it, boy. I now have a regular friend for shopping! Whenever I feel like shopping, I just click my fingers and you’ll come running.”

He had to get her to listen.

“Mistress!” he announced, shifting away from her. “Stop. Just take a pause. If you parade me before your friends like that, then they’ll tell someone and pretty soon everyone will know!”

Melissa stared at him blankly for a moment, as if he were stupid,  before saying, “Of course. That’s the point.”

Closing his eyes in frustration at not being understood, he felt Melissa’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and her full weight push him back on the bed.

Suddenly she was all animal. Kissing, biting and gouging at his bare shoulders.

“Tell me you love me!” She demanded, slapping his bare thigh.

“Yes, yes. Oh, God. Yes. I love you , Mistress.”

He heard a soft giggle come from miles away, as his brain floated out to sea on a wave of erotic electricity.

She bit hard into his chin, “Tell me you adore me, sissy!”

As his hips bucked uselessly up into her, speaking became harder, “Yes, Mistress. I adore you. I love you. You are my world.”

She moaned as her pussy, through her sopping panties, made contact with the minimum ridge of her boy’s chastity.

He gripped her arms, near her shoulders as his wife rode him as if he were a slut.

Then he could stand it no more.

He stopped, breathing as hard as if he had run a marathon, his eyes swimming with the start of tears.

“Mistress, please. Please unlock me. I so need to cum!”

She stopped moving, and they both lay, quite still. She stared down at her boy in need, and lightly kissed his forehead.

“Aw, boy. Sir says your behaviour hasn’t been satisfactory. Aw. Don’t look at me like that. I’m really sorry. He thought you made and served a wonderful meal though. He gave you points for that.”

His eyes were huge with bewilderment.

“But, but … Mistress …”

“Aw,” she felt so much empathy for her poor defeated boy. “And you were naughty sometimes today. I made some notes for Sir. And you were so much the brat last night. But Sir and I agree that with the right amount of direction from us, and if you try extra special hard, then you’ll be allocated an unlock time pretty soon. How does that sound?”

“An unlock time?”

His pretty pink mouth hung open trying to make sense of what she was saying.

The voice boomed from nowhere, shaking them both.

“Girl on girl sex. Love it!”

It was the horrible brute. And he was standing at the foot of the bed with a huge triumphant grin on his face.

There was a loud slap, and Christian’s wife bucked up before rising to her knees rubbing her bottom with a giggle.

“Sir!”

The so called ‘sir’ picked up a chair and brought it to one side of the bed. He was naked apart from his blue boxers and a white shirt, completely unbuttoned, showing his hairy chest.

“Ok,” he said. “Carry on!”

Christian tried to bring his thighs together from embarrassment, but Melissa was knelt between them. Obviously, his wife would tell her Bull to ‘fuck off’ and leave them to their talk and have their own fun.

Melissa giggled again. “What would Sir like to see?”

“Some fucking action, Slut. Get it down!”

Looking back at her boy while licking her lips, she ran her hands up his camisole top and leaned down so that her blond hair formed a curtain around his face.

In the sweaty darkness she pecked gently at his lips while grinding on his pantied groin, seeking out his tiny chastity cage.

Christian was horrified. How the hell could he perform for a man? A man who had been so cruel to him, who had demoted him in the eyes of his wife to a plaything of a maid.

He needed to protest but his lips parted …

His wife’s tongue entered his mouth, dominating it …

His eyes closed.

He groaned , his hips pressing into hers.

He was lost.

Then his wife groaned …

Then he took hold of her shoulders …

She took sharp hold of his arse through his silk, ivory white shorts.

They would roll one way, then the other, but always Melissa pushing back so that she was on top, fucking her very own sissy boi.

Melissa was in ecstasy. Not only was she dominating her own boi, but she was doing so in front of Sir. Letting him see how she controlled him. For all her orgasms that day, none came so powerfully, and so full bodily as this one. It was as if her world suddenly came together with a thunderclap.

She screamed her orgasm, her hip pulverising her boy, who came himself, though without any satisfaction. Just continuously pumping precum through his steel chastity cage into his panties inside the shorts.

The Mistress and boi looked at each other with love, holding their contact.

Until …

Slap!

Melissa, knelt up holding her bottom.

“Sir!” She laughed.

Sir was on his feet and Christian could finally see the size of his boner. Sir’s cock was ramrod straight in his boxers, pointing slightly upwards and not just long, but thicker than any tool Christian had ever seen.

Sir grabbed Melissa by her hair and twisted.

She screamed in pain and Christian pulled himself up, ready to protect his wife but Sir then grabbed him by the back of his hair and gave a tug.

He squealed too, which made him even more ashamed. Squealing like a girl in front of Sir! How shameful.

“Listen you two sluts,” the Bull said, gripping both his slut and his sissy by the hair, “We’re going to have a fuck session that will humiliate you both so much that neither of you’ll ever be able to mention it again. Not to anyone! When you catch sight of each other you’ll each lower your eyes with shame. You are going to perform as a pair of real sluts.”

With that he pushed Melissa over to one side of the bed, and still hanging on to Christian’s hair dragged him to the other, so that he could climb between them.

“Open your mouths into a perfect circle sluts. Both of you!”

And they did!

 

Melissa by Deborah Ford

The End.

 

C

I’m sure neither the wife or cuck would enjoy it ….