Message-ID: <3290eli$9708241036@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: anakha@clara.net (anakha) Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - LOTTO1.TXT MF, bd, ds, cons (3/3) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <5tos9i$buk$4@eros.clara.net> ***************************************************************************** Hi, I have been downloading stuff from Usenet for some time and haven't really been putting an awful lot back so I decided it was time to repost the stuff I have. There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly it is for those who have only started using Usenet since the stories I have were originally posted, secondly for those who may simply have missed them first time round and lastly my contribution to fighting the ever increasing spam which now saturates all of the sex newsgroups. The vast majority of the stories I post will be plain bondage orientated with a few subfem & femdom ones thrown in. Anything a little stronger in terms of s&m isn't really my scene so there won't be much like that. Also please note I am NOT the author of any of the stories so the copyright notices of ALL of the original authors still apply. (Also there is nothing that I can see from the original post which says I can't repost this story. If you are the author and you do NOT want it reposted then I suggest you let me, & everyone else, know). I hope you enjoy whatever I do post. One last thing. Someone asked me recently if I was going to put some of my stories on my web page for people to download. I am undecided about this so would appreciate feedback on wether this is a good idea. Bye for now. Anakha http://home.clara.net/anakha/index.html ****************************************************************************** ======== Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LOTTO1.TXT MF, bd, ds, cons From: BJL Date: Mon, 09 Sep 1996 11:48:31 -0700 I would really like to get feedback. STANDARD DISCLAIMER. If you are under 18 or you don't like bondage mixed in with the love life of a married couple, read no further. I have no desire to force anything upon another that they would find objectionable; but, having said this, it is now your choice. Finally, she managed to tear herself away, and moved to catch up with Ike. He was observing a man, whose feet were locked in stocks and his hands bound to a pole behind him, having his feet bastinadoed. The torturer was swinging a metal rod, and the figure's feet were already dripping blood, with the flesh cut to the bone in some places. The card for this explained that a person who underwent a serious bastinado rarely walked again; a less serious treatment resulted in crippling or at least incapitation for several weeks. In another scene, a woman was having one of her tits cut off; the other, already cut off, lay on the floor. Ike observed that this would have been a real waste. Mary giggled. The next scene was more elaborate. A woman was on a rack. She was naked. Her feet were tied by ropes to a drum at one end of the table; her wrists to a similar drum at the other end. The rack was far less massive than what they had at home in their own dungeon. The explanatory card described the rack, and the effect it had, pointing out dislocation of one or more limbs was likely. It then urged pushing a small button for a demonstration. Mary pushed the button, and a narration began, overtalking the moaning of a woman, presumably the patient. The drums were set in motion, and the woman model's body was seen to rise slightly, and stretch; and then the ladder under her dropped away, suspending the body in space between the two drums. Mary turned to Ike and said that they had to try that. Ike queried her about the possibility of a dislocated shoulder or hip, and she said they could be careful. He shook his head, but it was clear he was intrigued. When the narration stopped, the lights in the exhibit went out; and when they came up again, the ladder was back in place. The next thing they saw was a man seated on a bench, with one leg in an iron boot. A torturer was setting a wedge between the leg and the inside of the boot. Two other wedges were already in place, and blood could be seen oozing from the leg. The explanation card stated this was the Iron Boot, designed for the simple purpose of crippling a person. In the next scene, a man was undergoing a penal whipping. He was secured to a pillar, back outward. His back was a mess of open wounds, some of which dripped blood. The model swinging the whip actually did so, and the single strand bull whip, about 12 feet long, continually snapped in the air. A small scene had a man sitting in an iron chair that had a fire under it. The seat of the chair acted like a skillet and his ass was literally frying. In another scene, a woman was being pushed into an Iron Maiden. When the doors would be closed, many spikes would penetrate her body, none of which would kill but all would injure. She would be left to bleed to death. Two methods of hanging were side by side. The one was a gallows, where a man stood on a trap door, and then the trap was sprung, the model fell a few feet to be jerked up. The other had a man standing on the floor with a rope around his neck. Two torturers hauled on a rope, hoisting the man off the ground by his neck and he was left to twist and kick until he strangled. Ike studied this one very closely, telling Mary as they stood there, that it was possible to hoist someone by their neck to induce asphyxiation, but to lower them before any damage was done. So she studied it more closely, and as she was wondering how that might feel, Ike said with pulleys she should be able to hoist him. She glanced at him curiously, but said nothing. There were other smaller exhibits depicting the beheading of Charles I and Ann Boylin. There was another showing the drawing and quartering of a nobleman. Finally, there were three scenes showing more modern methods of execution. One was the Russian method of a man tied to a chair, being shot behind the ear. Another was a scene depicting Barbara Grahm being executed in the California Gas Chamber. The final scene was man being electrocuted, his body surging against the heavy leather straps binding him to the chair, with a little bit of smoke coming out from under the leather mask over his face. When they made their way outside, both were quite subdued. The realism of the wax dummies and the apparatus made it all seem so real. They thought they had seen several people die that afternoon, to say nothing of the bodies that had been broken. But, a session in the Jacuzzi and a moderate session with Ike whipping Mary rejuvenated them. He was careful not to strike her still heavily marked ass. Back in her chastity belt and with her bondage bra on, they went to a play and dinner, and then back to their hotel. The next day, they were off to France, where they went to see the dungeon in the Bastille. While there were no wax figures in or on any of the engines, these were the real devices. Blood stains were still visible on the base of a guillotine. Marks from fingernails in the wood of pilars used to secure people for whippings were eloquent in describing the agony of those under those whips. >From Paris, they went to Morocco. Here they went to a modern day slave trading auction. Ike had been warned it was dangerous to take Mary to such a place, for she would fetch a nice price. But they were determined, so one of their friends directed them to one of the actual traders who agreed to protect them. Discreetly concealed from the bidders, Mary watched an auction. In a burnoose, Ike was out in the crowd. The poor wretches who were to be sold were about equally divided between men and women, but they were a sorry lot. Mary couldn't tell what the prices were but it didn't seem as if anyone was happy with the outcome. She had lost sight of Mike out in the open, and was beginning to wonder could she go look for him, when suddenly, a hand clasped over her mouth and another over her breasts. When she attempted to struggle, she felt other hands grasp her ankles. Panic stricken, she flayed out, but found she was well secured in the grasp of these people. Momentarily, a thought flashed through her mind about the futility of all that body building pain she had endured over the years; but then the terror returned. She felt her ankles and legs being tied, and then that tieing went on up her body. A black cloth was pulled over her head, and then on down her body. Her arms and mouth were free, and she did her best to battle with both, but the bag was too secure and her screams, grunts and yells had absolutely no effect. The next sensation she had was of being carried in a horizontal mode through corridors and around corners. There was talking around her, and even laughter; and once she thought she even heard women laughing. She felt herself being placed down on something, and she thought she understood a car trunk lid being closed on her. When the motor started and the car began to move, she knew she was going for a ride. It was futile to attempt to recall the turns as she had no idea where she had started from. The drive felt like it had left the city for the open road, as speed seemed to pick up and there were fewer turns or stops. This part of the trip seemed to last for a quarter hour. Mary was glad for the diversion of trying to analyze the ride as it kept her mind off the terror. The ride was back in a built up area again, and very soon it came to a stop altogether. The trunk was opened, and she was quickly hoisted out and carried somewhere. Then she was put down. A door closed. Nothing happened, and she could hear nothing. Tentatively, she tried to move. Nothing happened to her. She attempted more movement, and noticed a glimmer of light. The bag was open; in a moment, she was out of it. Her prison was a small room with a dirt floor. One small cot was all the furniture, if you excluded the pot and basin in the corner. One small light bulb was in a ceiling fixture, providing the only illumination in the room. There were no windows and but one door, without a knob. She stood by the door, listening, but could hear nothing. She considered pounding on the door, and yelling for someone to set her free, but she reasoned that was not likely and the yelling might get her into trouble. Well, she thought, this is one hell of a fix. She wasn't even sure if Ike was aware she was gone. Where had he gone? Had something happened to him too? And she began to weep. Not wail, but just a steady, convulsive sobbing. How long this continued she was not sure. It was interrupted by the door opening. A man in a burnoose stood there in front of her when she raised her eyes. He said Good Day Mary Elise. With a start, she realized he had called her by her given name. She never used it. No one called her that except her Mother. And then she reasoned, he had her passport. The man then proceeded to explain what had happened. White women were highly sought after in this part of the world. She was to be sold, of course, and as quickly as possible. No doubt she was hoping to find some way to escape, and he encouraged her in her thinking -- it helped to pass the time and kept the spirits up. Would her husband be able to enlist the aid of the American Embassy -- sure, but to what end? She had just dropped out of sight, and would stay out of sight for as long as her owners wanted. Did she start at the fact she was now owned? -- she had best come to grips with that for that was a fact. For how long? -- that was a decision to be made by her eventual owner. Some slaves were released after a time; others were sold again and again, but each successive sale was to a lesser position. As he anticipated her questions, and then answered them, she alternately stared and glared at him in amazement. She vacillated between this couldn't be happening and when would the charade end to this has happened and I'll never see Ike or the girls again. She came out of her self pity to hear the man acknowledging her chastity belt with approval. That would enhance her value at the sale, which would be the very next day. She was a hot commodity, and the quicker she was sold, the better he would like it. With an abruptness that startled and disappointed her, he was gone. So long as he was talking, she had a grip, albeit minor, on reality. Now, alone in the Spartan room, despair began to creep in. But, being a practical sort of person, she realized her future was beyond this room, so the best thing to do would be to try to get some rest. A torrent of some language raised her to consciousness. She was jerked upright and pushed out the door. She gave a single thought to bolting, but seeing the armed guard at the end of the corridor ahead of her ended that notion. She was prodded into a second room where there was a tub and an old crone, who motioned her into the tub. The water was warm, and she was allowed to relax in it for several minutes. Then, the old crone began to soap her up, skin and hair. Mary was a little put-off when the old woman began to soap her breasts; it had been a very long time since another female had touched her there. Within an hour, she was scrubbed and coiffed. She actually felt pretty good. She was fed, and thus, under other circumstances, she would have felt quite pleased with herself. The man who talked to her the day before now came for her, and asked her to come with him. He said that he would put handcuffs on her to discourage any idea of running. He felt no concern that she might trip for he was reasonably sure she had worn cuffs often. [Damn that chastity belt, she thought. That's how he knows.] Thus, she was startled when he continued to talk, saying it wasn't just the chastity belt she was wearing but just her whole demeanor. . .she had been born to wear handcuffs! [Christ, she wondered, how can somebody be "born" to wear handcuffs? And then she answered her own question -- I really am born to wear them because I damn well want to wear them.] After turning several corners, she found herself in the room where yesterday's auction had been held. She knew it from the way it looked, but she also saw where she had watched the proceedings the day before. She looked at her escort questioningly, and he smiled as he nodded. Yes, he said to her, the ride in the car trunk was bogus, just to confuse her and to make her less resistant. She wanted to be angry, but at whom and for what, so she merely shrugged. The man led her to a pole where there was a chain with an open collar. He put the collar around her neck and locked it, and then left her. There stood Mary Elise, naked but for a metal chastity belt, with a collar on her neck and chained to a post in a slave market in Morocco. Now what? "What" was soon answered, as some men began to drift into the slave market. There were curious stares directed her way, and she tried to hide her nudity. When fifteen or so men were milling about, the man who had talked to her came back. In a conversational tone, in a language she did not understand, he addressed the men in the market. The listened very seriously, and then grins came over them. Some even laughed out loud. They turned to her with renewed interest. The man then turned to her and told her to stand away from the pole. If these men were to be to bid good money for her, they deserved to see what they were bidding on. Mary was in a quandary. She didn't want to expose herself more; but, she reasoned, perhaps if she did her buyer might look more kindly on her. In the end, vanity prevailed. She was stacked, and she knew she was stacked, so she stood away from the pole, threw her shoulders back and spread her legs slightly. She was ready to be sold. While she didn't understand the language, she was surely able to understand the auction. Bidding for her was spirited, and from the smile on the man's face, she felt the price to be paid for her would be high. Finally, the bidding slowed, with only two in the audience keeping it up. And then, the man swung his arm to punctuate a word. It was over. She had been sold! To her dismay, everyone then left, including the man who had been conducting the auction. She was left as she was: naked, hands cuffed behind her and a collar holding her to the post. Time passed. The chain on her collar was not long enough to permit her to sit. She stood. And stood. And stood. At last, she saw three men coming towards her. One was the man who conducted the auction. He told her that she was to be prepared for shipment. He ignored her question as to where she was to be shipped. She was unlocked from her post, but her hands were not freed. The silent men walked on either side of her around corners and down corridors. [She had thought to herself, she'd never have escaped. This place was like a lambrythe.] Finally, they entered a room. There, in the middle, was an old fashioned steamer trunk, standing on one end and open. She did not like what she saw: a small chair built into the base of the trunk but the two men quickly had her sitting on it. Then, very rapidly, leather straps held her at ankles, knees, upper thighs, waist, chest, arms, and neck. Her mouth was forced open, and it was packed with a huge amount of cloth. Mary had been gagged before, but this was ridiculous. She couldn't begin to close her mouth! And then, non-stick, hospital tape was wrapped around her head several times to secure the packing. On her head, they put a football-like helmet, and this was in turn strapped to the sides of the trunk. Except for the seat bottom, everything was heavily padded. The man cautioned her not to worry; her handlers would be most careful for it would mean their lives if she got so much as a scratch. The man who purchased her was very interested in her safety and good condition. Besides, the trip would not be a long one. With that, he signaled the handlers, and the trunk was closed. Mary felt the trunk tip slightly, and then she knew it was on a small, 2 wheel truck. She was wheeled away on her journey into slavery. Ventilation was adequate, and despite the warnings to her handlers about her safety, she was jostled enough so that she would have been marked up pretty badly had it not been for the rigid pose she was held in. She knew when she was put on a jet...the familiar jet fuel odors were very strong. The take-off was smooth, and very soon they were airborne. Wryly, she wondered if this would be a circular flight and she would end up back in the slave market. The flight was longer than the auto ride had been. She must have dozed for the screech of the wheels touching down startled her. She, that is her trunk, was removed from the plane, and placed on a truck. Very soon, she heard what must have been the customs people inquire as to what was in the trunk. [Good, she thought, somebody speaks English around here.] It pissed her off that she was referred to as old clothes and second hand books. But, there was no mistaking the stamp of approval of the customs person, and the continuation of the journey. The trunk was placed on a truck, and the rid was slow. Even so, she rocked quite a bit. Thank God I don't get seasick, she thought. Ultimately, the ride stopped, and she (in her trunk) was placed on the ground. She heard the hasps and locks on the trunk being undone, and then the trunk was opened. She wondered what her purchaser would look like. He had a very long beard! Ike! What the hell? And then she saw some of the others from the party in London, and she knew it had all been a very elaborate hoax. Even the man who conducted the auction was there. The immediate relief was replaced by extreme anger, but that quickly turned to joy. Ike was hurriedly removing her gag and undoing the straps that held her in her trunk. When at last she was free, she stood up and fell into his arms. That evening, the events of the past three days were explained to her. She was loudly complimented on her pose during the auction. Other subs who had gone through it had turned into whimpering, whining wretches, but not Mary: she had pride and pizazz! Her only question was to inquire the true amount that was the winning bid. There were embarrassed and then sheepish looks, before the auctioneer stated she had fetched eleven and a half cents. There was silence, and then she started to giggle, and that turned to guffaws, and she really did pee her pants [well, that is, she would have peed her pants if she had any on]. This whole event had been the special part of the trip that had been added on. She smiled benignly at all, and admitted it was very well done, and she held no grudges [but she had her fingers crossed when she said no grudges]. It happened that they were exactly where their itinerary said they should be. It was an African game preserve, the hotel in the trees. Here tourists were in the cage, and the wildlife had the run of the preserve. Residents could look out their window at the wildest of wildest Africa. In residence at the hotel were several primates. All were for sale. One in particular took a liking to Mary, a reddish haired Orangutan, who looked a lot like the Clyde of the Clint Eastwood movies. One nite, Mary and Ike were sitting in the glassed-in lounge, overlooking the jungle below, at twilight, when the nocturnal animals began to come out to hunt. The Orangutan came and sat by Mary, and very calmly reached his arm over her shoulder and cupped her breast! She was too startled to move, and then she saw that Ike was laughing so hard, he could barely get his breath. She demanded to know what was so fucking funny, and he recalled for her a computer adult image where a chimp was squeezing a woman's boob, all the while smiling that toothy grin. She got laughing too, and the Orangutan chimed in too. One of the attendants came over to see what was the fuss. Both Ike and Mary spoke as one that there was no fuss. Then, Mary asked the price of the Orangutan, and when told what it was, she said to Ike she wanted it to take home. She said she'd call the beast Bernie in honor of a friend they both had. For some reason, the Orangutan chose that moment to really squeeze harder, and Mary squeaked, and Ike, laughing so hard that tears were running down his face, came over to help separate Bernie from his wife's tit. What they thought would be wildly erotic, observing men and women having sex with various animals, turned to be a bummer. Oh, they watched women fuck ponies and donkeys, a man had a snake pushed up his ass, women fucked everything imaginable: goats, dogs, pigs. It just didn't work for them. That nite, Mary wondered if Bernie had been trained in the same place. They laughed. The next day, Bernie was crated for shipment to the USA, and they continued their trip to East Africa. Here they were guests of local business people. The blacks were in the process of taking over, or had already taken over the government. Even so, on private land, servants and others were brought for corrections of behavior. To Mary, it was just like the penal flogging that they had seen at Madame Troussaud's. The man or woman was secured to a pilar around which they tried to wrap their arms -- some men could, but most men could not and none of the women could. The executioner then was told how many strokes were thought to be correct for the problem, and they were administered with a bull pizzel. None whose back was caressed with the bull prick escaped without at least a bead of blood; some displayed a great deal of blood. The most serious infraction, stealing from the lady of the house, got the accused seven strokes. His back was a bloody mess when he was taken down. As they stood there, watching, Mary felt a growing heat in her loins. This was, by far, the most serious CP she had ever seen. Finally, she whispered in Ike's ear she had to be able to grasp that pillar while that pizzel was applied to her back. He looked at her with concern. Never before would there have been such a serious application. The likelihood that she would be marked was nearly 100%; that the marks would be permanent was better than 50%. He expressed his reservations with regret: he knew that she wanted it, but he was fearful. She acknowledged his concern, and she agreed with him; yet, the fire in her pussy was nearly overwhelming. Never had she felt such a need to feel a whip. And so, it was arranged. When all the punishments had been meted out for the day, one of their friends approached the executioner. With much gesticulating, and glances at Mary and Ike, but more at Mary, the executioner finally nodded. Their friend came to them and said it was arranged. But Mary refused to move towards the post. With some impatience, their friend inquired if she wasn't serious, and she replied that she was utterly serious, and that she wanted to be reassured that the executioner was not going to soften his strokes. Caught in a subterfuge, the friend faltered, and then he returned to the executioner, who nodded and smiled. In a thrice, Mary was stripped to her chastity belt, and she attempted to wrap her arms around the pillar. She was tied tightly, and she waited. Liquid fire erupted on her back. Oh, shit, she thought. Ike was right. This WAS too much. She wanted to say stop, but before she could...... Stroke number 2 wrapped her back in more fire. She KNEW her back was bleeding in many places. Thank God, there would only be.... Stroke number 3 was both the hardest and the last. She knew she would never have lived through more. She simply collapsed in her bonds. My God, what have I gotten myself in for. The mist of pain had clouded her vision. Moments later, sitting in a chaise, she re-orientated herself. She sat upright, and looked behind her, checking for her blood on the chair. There was none. Perplexed, she looked at Ike, who shrugged. [I want to see], she insisted, so a mirror was brought, and she observed. YES, there were three bright red lines. YES, there were bruises even brighter red where the lines intersected. No, there was no blood; and she realized she was disappointed. >From East Africa, they moved on to Asia, to Ankara, Turkey. Here they were taken on a tour of a prison for dangerous prisoners. And because they were dangerous, each one of them wore connected wrist and ankle fetters. While most were men, there were women too. Their uniforms were all alike: a sort of sarong. It had to be simple since the chains just did not come off -- there were no locks, they were riveted on. Mary and Ike also saw the solitary confinement area, and it was remarkably like what they had in their own dungeon. [As yet, Ike and Mary hadn't made a whole lot of use of their cells. That nite, they agreed neither had seen much to encourage them at this prison to make more than the occasional use of them. But then Mary added that being in there alone was scary, but if Bernie was locked in with her, that might make it better. Ike wanted to know if she wanted them in the same cell, but she said no; she'd want Bernie to be a separate cell so that when he smelled her juices, he'd be all the more frustrated. Ike just shook his head at the diabolical thoughts his sweet, cuddly loveable wife could come up with.] They were quite happy to move on to the next stop in Nepal. Although officially outlawed for many, many years, the practice of settee, the practice of burning the widow --alive-- on the pyre of her dead husband, was still done in some places. And they were going to watch. Of course, it was necessary to have a corpse, and none were at hand, so no widow in waiting either. They had realized that possibility when they put Nepal on the itinerary, but who knew. Their second nite, the couple who were their host and hostess arranged a small party. This couple knew Ike and Mary only as friends of friends who wanted to see settee, if possible; they did not know of Ike and Mary's D&S. Thus, both were quite surprised after dinner. Furniture was pushed to the side, musicians set up their instruments and the rug rolled up. And the very first dancer came in laden with tiny links, light chains, and began to dance! Of course, the young woman was in colorful costume, but there wasn't much of that. Mary began to count the chains. The young woman had a golden (gold?) collar around her neck, and cuffs of similar material around her upper arms and wrists, and around her thighs and ankles. A belt, also of the same material, encircled her waist. Starting at the top, the girl had piercings in her eye brows, her nose, several in each ear, at the top of each shoulder, in her nipples (these were covered, but with the thinnest veil imaginable), in her navel, many in her pussy (this too was theoretically covered), and in her inner thighs. Tiny chains connected each of these piercings to each cuff/collar/belt. On each chain was a different sized bell that she was able to sound by just the right muscular action. Her dance steps were slow, but the melody she made with her bells was fantastic. While not exactly erotic, Ike and Mary agreed the dance was provoking, and especially well done. The next part of the entertainment was far more violent. Two nude, young women duked it out. They fought with their fists, they wrestled and the used knives. At first it had appeared to be a fairly well choreographed event, but then the fists seemed to make contact and cause result, the wrestling got more violent, and it came clear this was for real. Mary slid to the front of her chair where she watched intently. With her body building, she felt she could buy into this. These gals were hurting each other. Both would be very sore the next day. But then, when they picked up knives, Mary didn't know what to think. The two women went at each other with the blades with the same reckless abandon as they had pummeled or threw each other. If there had been any doubts about the fighting or wrestling, there could be none when two cuts were opened on the shoulder of one of the women. Mary and Ike finally came to understand: the fighting and wrestling was to soften each up; the cutting was the way to victory. How many cuts would each combatant take, while trying to cut the other, before herself giving up. It turned out to be quite a few cuts! Both were quite bloody, and moving very slowly when finally one woman backed away and dropped her knife. The other immediately dropped hers. And then, to the amazement of Mary and Ike, they embraced and kissed. That nite, Ike and Mary discussed what they had seen. They were moved, that was certain; but they were uncertain about their total reaction. After a while, that nite, Mary whipped Ike. While it was very good, it was clear to both her mind was still partially occupied by what they had seen. Two days they waited in Nepal, before finally deciding to go on to South America. In Argentina, the world's human pony gathering was taking place. Mary's harness and sulky had been shipped directly from the USA, and was there when they arrived. After a day of soaking and resting from the long, tedious journey from Nepal, they went out to the track. Here, horse barns had been cleaned out, and in the stalls were human ponies, haltered just the four legged ones. Mary had been assigned a stall in a very new barn, so the odor of horse shit was not overpowering. Her harness was in her stall, and the sulky was just outside. There were very many nude women ponies, and an equal number of male ponies about, so Mary was not terribly embarrassed to remove all her clothing. The first thing that went on her body was the pair of special, knee high boots: instead of a normal foot, the base was rounded and flared out so that it looked like a hoof; and it sounded like a hoof too. Ike then began the task of putting her harness on her. A very wide leather belt was first. Straps from this belt went up over each shoulder and rejoined the belt in back. Similar straps connected through her groin. Wide bands went around her thighs, and these two connected to the waist belt. Her wrists were cuffed, and these were secured to the back of the waist belt. A very high, rigid collar went around her neck. This gave her minimal movement of her head, unless she bent her whole upper body. On her head went a bridle like collection of straps: one around her head like a head band, one over her head at the temples and under her chin, a bit for her mouth secured by two straps running behind her head and each of these secured to the over the top strap. A plume of ostrich feathers was secured to the top of her bridle. And then, the part she liked least, Ike pushed a butt plug into her out of which a clump of horse hair stuck so it looked like she had a tail. Like that, Ike lead her to an exercise path, and required that she walk, then trot, then run, then trot, then walk. Once into it, Mary enjoyed herself. She worked up a nice sheen of perspiration, and was really into being harnessed and required to act like a pony. Being naked, outside, added to her zest; and seeing others harnessed in similar fashion, doing the same things she was doing, was exciting. When that thought dawned on her, she wondered what the hell is happening to me. And she answered her own question: she didn't enjoy being nude in a crowd so much as she enjoyed her obvious better conditioning. And then a thought crept into her mind: there was to be a race in a couple days and maybe, just maybe, she could win. Nothing like introducing a little competition to get Mary's blood coursing through her veins! So, she threw herself into the training. Ike noticed the change in her manner and was perplexed by it, but he said nothing. Instead, he helped her along, using his thin whip to cause her to pick up her knees when trotting. After a work out, her harness was removed and Ike used a hose and cloth to clean her. He then took her to her stall where he left her. In the afternoon, he was back. She was quickly re-harnessed, and then, after a brief warm-up, he harnessed her to her sulky. Her hands were released from behind her back and then fastened to the staves of the sulky. This permitted her to hold it up as well as to grip it to pull it. When she was in position, the staves extended out about two feet in front of her for there was a bar connecting the two staves that was secured to the front of her belt. Behind her, there was about two yards to where the seat was. When the rider of the sulky was in place, his or her legs (it had always been only Ike up till now) rested on the staves, and there was just the right distance to use the sulky whip. The tip could be snapped on her ass cheeks, or the full tail could be laid on her back. Ike led her out to a track (there were three, two for practice and one for the event) and let her get a feel for the footing (hoofing?). The ground was slightly soft, but not quite as soft as it would be for horses. After getting an acknowledgement that she was ready, he swung himself into the sulky, positioned his legs, and then with a snap of the whip tip on her right buttock, they began. She started off slowly, and they did one circle of the track at walking speed. This was designed so that she could again learn the balances required to walk in the hoof boots, and the effect of Ike being in the sulky. By shifting his weight, he could make the staves want to head downward (in which case, she had to pull up) or head upward (in which case she had to hold them down). For walking, they had found she did better holding them up, so his weight was forward in the sulky; for trotting, either way was about the same; but, for running, definitely holding the staves down was better as she could allow the bar to which her belt was fixed to ride up just a little higher so that she was able to get her chest into it (below her massive boobs, for it was most important that the boobs be free to swing and sway and jiggle and jounce according to the rules of the pony girl association!). Very little about pony girl racing pleased Ike more than to watch all those boobs bounce and sway, but Mary wasn't too pleased since it tended to wear her out. Training went on like that for two days. Mary ached that first nite, sleeping on the floor of her stall. Of course, she didn't spend the entire nite there, but enough so that it met the association requirements. And, she was back before dawn, with that sticky, glistening stuff on the inside of her thighs, and a smile on her lips. On the third day, it was clear excitement was in the air. Today was the day of the races. Only four sulkies would race at a time, so there had to be some elimination races. Mary won her first two races in a breeze. In both, there were two female and two male ponies, and none of the other six were in anywhere near the good condition she was in. The third elimination race had a guy who kept pace with her for most of the way, and it took Ike applying the whip to her back to get that extra ounce of energy so that she crossed just a boob in front of the guy. A protest was made that she had unfair advantage, but Ike blew them off, saying if the pony boy had gotten it up, with what he had, he would have more in front than Mary. And that put them in the championship. The ponies were permitted to rest, but Ike kept Mary moving, even if slowly, so that her muscles didn't tighten up. And that undoubtedly was the difference. She had some very stiff (well, one was) competition, but, from the head of the stretch run, there had been no doubt. She was in front and nothing or nobody was going to catch her. In the tradition of racing, a blanket of flowers was draped over her shoulders and Ike got to drink champagne from the silver cup. That evening, they were the featured guests at the banquet. The next day, tired but happy, they flew home. The girls were just overjoyed with the idea they would be having an Orangutan coming to live with them. It seems the shipper had notified them their Orangutan had arrived, but that it would be in quarantine for 30 days. They excitedly wanted to know what it was to be named, and when Mary said she had already named it Bernie, the older girl winked and smiled knowingly. 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