by Van ©2013
Six Months into the Immurement of
Cressida Genevieve Roxanne Tydwell
Castle, The Stables
"You're simply looking for
an excuse to use that whip," Cressida complained.
"Don't be silly, Mistress," Corky replied. "You know I
don't need an excuse." She finished securing the final
buckle of the tackle harnessing her beloved Mistress (and
Prisoner) to a small trap, one of the stable's two-wheel
carriages sized for a pony (or ponygirl). The whip
in question was the carriage whip in the holder to the right of
the driver's bench.
Corky was dressed appropriately for the stables in brown riding
boots, tan jodhpurs, and a white cotton blouse with the sleeves
rolled up. The top three buttons were unbuttoned,
revealing the top slopes of her freckled breasts and the
fact that she seemed to have misplaced her bra. Her ginger
curls were pulled back in a ponytail held together by a broad,
emerald green ribbon tied with a decorative bow.
Cressida was also appropriately dressed, or more correctly,
appropriately harnessed. Her costume began with
thigh-boots with horseshoe-shaped soles and no heels. They
forced her up on her toes and provided plenty of ankle support,
but were slightly precarious and would take some getting used
to. Next were a waist-cinching corset and an
arm-binder. The binder trapped Cressida's folded arms
behind her back and secured her encased forearms against the
back of the corset. Finally, a headstall, a harness of
thin straps, caged her head. It had a horizontal forehead
strap, a vertical strap that passed under her chin and across
her crown, and short, thin, lateral straps that linked
everything together. A rubber bit with two rings and
attached reins dangled from the right side of the headstall,
ready for its strap and buckle to be secured so it could cleave
Cressida's mouth and allow Corky to direct and control her
"pony" via the reins. Lady Jane's rounded steel collar,
the emblem of her daughter's immurement, remained locked around
Cressida's throat; but this was one of those exceedingly rare
occasions when its dangling rings in front and back weren't
locked to a tethering chain or anything else.
Cressida's accoutrements were of the same brown leather as
Corky's boots, and were quite obviously designed both as
inescapable restraints and a means of pulling the
trap. Strategically placed steel rings in the
corset-binder were already clipped to straps attached to the
cart's side-poles. Her hair was plaited in a single tight
braid, trailed down her back, and was secured by a narrow ribbon
the same color as Corky's.
"Do you think mother will be in the garden today?" Cressida
Corky was pulling on a pair of brown kid gloves. "Her
Ladyship left for London this morning. She'll be away for
the rest of the week."
"I still don't understand why she doesn't visit," Cressida
Corky smiled. "Mistress Edna mentioned something about the
rules of the tradition not allowing Her Ladyship to interfere in
her own daughter's immurement."
Cressida rolled her eyes. "Interfere? Seriously?"
"It explains her show of disinterest," Corky purred. She
smiled and went up on her toes to kiss Cressida's pouting
lips. "You know your mother loves you, silly. Stop
feeling sorry for yourself."
"I miss her," Cressida sighed. "When, Corky?"
Corky was touched by Cressida's use of her first name. It
wasn't the first time Mistress had made this breach of protocol,
but she was touched. "I told you," Corky answered, "I'm
not allowed to discuss the date of your release, your un-immurment
as it were, if that's a word." Her smile broadened.
"But nice try, darling." She reached for the dangling
bit. It's just as well, she thought. I
haven't the heart to tell her she still has six more months of
imprisonment to go.
"You realize that when all of this nonsense is
finally over," Cressida said through clenched teeth, "you're
going to regret your duplicity in this unpardonable crime."
Corky giggled. It wasn't the first time that topic
had come up, either. "You're going to dismiss me as your
personal handmaiden?" she gasped, batting her eyes for effect.
"Ohhh, no," Cressida growled. "You're my handmaiden
for life. There will be an entire wardrobe full of special
staff uniforms for various occasions, all for you and you
alone. Leather, steel, latex. And just wait until
you see the renovations I have planned for the Handmaiden's
"New drapes?" Corky suggested. It was highly unlikely
drapes were a part of Cressida's plans. The "Hole" in
question, the tiny, spartan bedroom attached to Cressida's actual
bedroom (as opposed to her immurement cell) didn't have windows.
"You'll find out," Cressida purred, "eventually." She
opened her mouth and accepted the bit. "Urrrf!"
Corky had pulled the bit-strap tight and secured the buckle at
the nape of her beloved Mistress' neck, under her dangling
braid. She flipped the left rein over Cressida's head, and
now a rein rested on each of her "pony's" bare shoulders and
trailed back to the driver's seat. Corky smiled and cupped
Cressida's breasts in her gloved hands. "I wonder if
Mistress Edna would have your nipples pierced if I made the
suggestion. Don't all ponygirls have rings with jingle
bells?" Her left hand remained on Cressida's right breast,
but her right hand slid down the front of the corset and cupped
her pussy. "I believe there should be rings and bells down
here, as well."
Cressida knew Corky was joking, of course, and considered making
a joke of her own: a little dressage demonstration in the form
of a booted knee lifted to plant a playful but businesslike
"nudge" squarely between the grinning little redhead's
legs. But before she could act—and speaking of jingle
bells—she heard a metallic tinkling sound from the direction of
the open stable door, together with the clump-clump-clump
of approaching hooves. And then, into the stables came
Ulfa, the tall, blond senior maid from Iceland, and Pippa, the
blond, young, tiny Stable Mistress.
Ulfa, the six-foot-something, powerfully built but
unmistakably feminine senior maid, was dressed in a costume
similar to Cressida's, but in black rather than brown.
Also, there was no trap or cart. Instead, a small saddle
was buckled above her folded arms and against her back.
Padded shoulder-straps helped brace the saddle and distribute
the weight of its occupant.
The occupant in question, Ulfa's rider, was Pippa.
The petite, blond Brit was dressed like Corky, but with the
addition of a navy-blue jacket and a black rider's helmet, and
minus a hair ribbon. As always, Pippa's fine, straight,
pale locks were cropped short in a boyish pixie. Also,
instead of a buggy whip, a riding crop was in her right hand.
"Down, girl," Pippa commanded. Ulfa bent at the knees and
Pippa swung down from the saddle in a graceful dismount, then
freed her left boot from the stirrup. Her gloved hands
still holding the reins, she approached the trap. "The
weather's a bit brisk, but the sun's still out. Do you
have a jacket?"
Corky nodded towards a hunter-green jacket hanging from a peg.
"Good," Pippa continued. "Bring a blanket if you plan on
stopping for any length of time." She directed her
rosy-cheeked, freckled smile at Her Ladyship's daughter.
"I mean for your pony, of course."
"Of course," Corky agreed.
Pippa focused on the trap's nearest side-pole and her smile
faded. She handed Ulfa's reins to Corky, then began
adjusting the tackle. "Too tight, here." She
adjusted a second strap. "And too loose, here."
"Sorry," Corky said.
"Not to worry," Pippa answered. Her smile had
returned. "It's a matter of experience." She stepped
around the trap and made the same adjustments on the other
pole. "Go easy with the reins," she told Corky.
"Ponygirls can be spirited, but they're reasonably clever.
Simply follow the path and give her her head."
Corky winked at Ulfa. "What about the whip?"
"That's up to you." Pippa stepped in front of Cressida,
reached up, and cupped the patiently standing (and helpless)
ponygirl's breasts. "Come," she said to Corky and the
smiling redhead joined her. Ulfa clomped along, as well.
Cressida gazed down at the munchkin, mini-munchkin, and
blond "Frost Giant" standing before her. The
up-on-your-toes pony-boots exaggerated Cressida's height, and
the munchkins' riding boots did little to redress the marked
difference. Corky was 5' 3", dripping wet, and Pippa was
something like 4' 8''. Ulfa towered above them all, and
would have done so even without her pony-boots.
Cressida's eyes popped wide. "Urrf?" Pippa had
regained Cressida's attention in general and that of her right
nipple in particular. The tiny-hot blond monster
had reached into her jacket pocket and produced a pair of
spring-loaded clamps. Each clamp had a jingle bell
dangling from a light, two-inch chain—and she had just clipped
one of the clamps to Cressida's right nipple! The serrated
jaws weren't especially punishing—"Nrrr!"—but there had been no
"Here." Pippa handed the second clamp to Corky and took
hold of Ulfa's reins.
"Well..." Corky smiled at the bobbing chain and ringing
jingle-bell dangling from her Mistress' left nipple. "Ulfa
doesn't seem to mind her bells, so..."
"Ulfa's a good pony," Pippa said, still smiling.
"Easy, girl," Corky cooed. She had Cressida's left nipple
between the forefinger and thumb of her left hand. The
open clamp was in her right.
Cressida glared at her Handmaiden/Handler, then flinched
as the clamp closed. A delicate shudder shook her
harnessed body and both bells chimed.
"That's a good little pony," Corky chuckled.
"I'm going to take Ulfa for another turn around the moat," Pippa
announced, then stepped back to Ulfa's left side. The
tall, blond "pony" stooped, as before. Pippa planted her
left foot in the stirrup, then swung into the saddle. Ulfa
carried her tiny rider quite easily. After all, Pippa's
total weight was only about eighty pounds, if that, the
saddle/harness arrangement was as efficient as a well-designed
rucksack, and Ulfa was in magnificent shape (in every
sense of the word). Pony and rider had already made one
full circuit of the moat, but as far as Corky and Cressida could
tell, Ulfa had hardly broken a sweat. Pippa tugged on the
reins and turned Ulfa towards the door. "Remember," Pippa
called back over her shoulder, "give her her head, and go
lightly with the reins." And then—jingle-jingle,
clomp-clomp—they were out the door and gone.
Corky smiled up at her glowering Mistress. "I have a
secret to tell you," she chuckled, then reached out and plucked
the clamps from Cressida's breasts.
"Mrrrf!" Cressida shuddered and stamped her right "hoof."
Corky slipped the clamps into her breast pocket, then kissed her
pony's nipples, first the left... and then the right.
"Those aren't really necessary," she explained.
"Rings and bells are one thing, but titty-clamps are
Cressida smiled through her bit and watched as Corky strolled
towards her hanging jacket, rolling down her sleeves as she
went. Cressida's nipples throbbed a little, but were none
the worse from the experience. The clamps hadn't even left
Corky donned her jacket, then returned to the trap. "Pippa
developed the idea of a ponygirl saddle, and Her Ladyship agreed
to have one made. She—Pippa, I mean—asked Mistress Edna if
any of the taller maids had been misbehaving lately, and
she—Edna—took the hint."
Cressida listened politely. Pippa was hardly the
inventor of the ponygirl saddle concept, but that was neither
here nor there.
"Mistress Edna held a meeting of the senior maids and, believe
it or not, asked for a volunteer. I wasn't there,
as I was busy doing something unspeakable to you at the time.
Plus, you aren't a senior maid, Cressida mentally added.
"Anyway, everyone looked at Ulfa, but before she could speak,
someone else—I don't know who—casually mentioned that it was
only fair that if Pippa wanted to play with the maids, the maids
should get to play with Pippa." Corky's smile
broadened. "And Mistress Edna agreed! After 'naughty
maid Ulfa' is done testing Pippa's saddle and the Stable
Mistress sets her free, Ulfa is gonna grab Pippa and carry
her—kicking and screaming, no doubt—to the maids' dorm, where
she'll spend the next week as the staff, uh, mascot."
Cressida's gagged-smile widened, as well. It was a
delicious thought: tiny little Pippa naked, bound with rope or
chains, and getting her cute little brains boinked out for a
full week. And Cressida was sure the senior maids would
handle the situation correctly, sending Pippa back to the
stables with a goofy smile on her cute little lips, a wealth of
memories, and an "enemies list" of junior maids who had earned
well-deserved stints of ponygirl duty.
"Well, let's get going." Corky stepped to the trap,
climbed onto the driver's seat, and took hold of the
reins. "Once around the moat, then up the north bridal
path to the meadow by the Great Oak for a picnic. And yes,
I did pack a blanket with the hamper in case the weather
turns. Two blankets." She snapped the
reins. "Mush!—or whatever you're supposed to say."
Cressida rolled her eyes and stepped off. Her harness took
the load, the wheels began to turn, and the trap moved.
Just you wait, Cressida thought as they left the
stables. The "suggestion" that they spend a nice,
relaxing, equestrian day outside had started her
thinking. Added to the many other "special projects"
Cressida intended to commission upon regaining her freedom would
be an appropriately scaled Roman chariot. It would be
drawn by a single harnessed and restrained pony, and would carry
a single driver/passenger. Cressida would have them modify
a Segway, one of those gyro-stabilized, two-wheel, personal
transportation devices; or use similar technology. Corky
would be able to "pull" her without difficulty. I'll
dress as a sexy Roman patrician, and Corky will be in a brown
leather harness with braided straps, bronze hardware, and
bronze and copper jewelry, all in Celtic style. Green
eyes, freckles, a riotous mass of red curls, fierce
blue 'tattoos' on her face and body... She'll be like one of
Boadicea's sword-maidens, captured and enslaved! We'll
be the hit of mother's next fancy-dress party... the next
party after my immurement, of course.
Cressida pulled the trap and its driver, the adorable
Corky, around the castle—and no, Cressida simply could not
stop thinking about her Handmaiden/Handler without using "the
A-word." Neither pony nor driver were aware that their
progress was under close (and loving) observation from various
tower windows by several pairs of eyes. Smiling maids,
junior and senior, paused in their labors to watch the
equestrian spectacle pass.
Mistress Edna watched, as well—and pondered which junior maid to
"punish" for neglecting her assigned duties.
||Our Story, Entire.