|by Van © 2016
we'll be discussing exactly why I can't let you go."
Meredith's words hung in the air like a pronouncement of
doom. For all Bridget knew, they were a
pronouncement of doom; but for some reason, she didn't think she
was in actual danger. She didn't think Lydia was off
someplace on the property digging an unmarked grave.
Bridget knew she should probably be angry and outraged, not to
mention terrified and in shock, but to her infinite surprise,
she found she was feeling none of those things. Her heart
was beating at an elevated rate and her armpits were a little
moist, but that last reaction might have been in response to the
"novelty" of wearing clothing after all this time as a naked
pony. Anyway, Bridget found she was taking the news...
well? Curiosity had a lot to do with it. What did
Meredith have in mind? The devil would be in the details,
of course, but she may as well hear her out. She reserved
the right to freak out in the future, of course... possibly the
very near future.
Bridget continued eating. Maya's bacon, scrambled eggs,
hash-browns, and toast were, indeed, perfect. But like her
reaction to wearing clothes, her culinary delight may have been
a reaction to the blandness of pony-chow and her return to
humanity. She noted that Meredith was also eating,
apparently content to let her "guest" mull things over... and to
gauge Bridget's reaction. The best defense is a good
offense, Bridget reminded herself, and set down her fork.
"You're going to continue keeping me a prisoner against my
will?" Bridget huffed.
Meredith sighed... then set down her fork, as well. "The
Wilkinson Group is a worldwide family of corporations and
limited partnerships that employ tens of thousands of
workers. Our properties and assets are valued in the
billions. My rivals and competitors would be all too
willing to exploit the inevitable scandal of my little
sister being arrested and put on trial for a string of serious
felonies. The media's reaction to the sensational and
kinky aspects of the scandal alone would be enough to
dismantle everything we've worked so hard to build."
"All of which is rationalization," Bridget intoned.
Meredith smiled. "I have no intention of indefinitely
holding you as my prisoner," she announced.
Bridget chewed and swallowed a fork-load of hash-browns before
responding. "I hear an unspoken 'but' coming."
"Before I make my proposal," Meredith continued, "I'm afraid I
must fully explain your current situation. My
sister—" She nodded towards Eve. "—has arranged to
have your apartment cleared out and all of your possessions
disposed of. At some point, I'm sure your publisher will
realize you've disappeared and will make inquiries, but my
security personnel are very professional. At the moment,
as far as the outside world is concerned, you have disappeared."
Bridget finished the last of her eggs. "Way to ruin
breakfast," she muttered.
Meredith laughed, covering her mouth with her napkin. "Oh,
Bridget. Delightful. Such strength. I believe
after what you've been through most people would be hysterical."
"I'm thinking about it," Bridget sighed as she lifted the carafe
and replenished her coffee.
"So," Meredith continued, "at the very least, you need a place
to live. Might I suggest... Wilkinson Ranch?"
Bridget sipped her coffee before answering. "The house...
or the stables?"
"Oh, the house, of course," Meredith purred. "You can move
into Eve's old room." She sifted her gaze, again, to her
naked, bound, gagged, and shock-collared little sister.
"My sister has decided to move into the stables...
Eve's pale blue eyes were welling with tears and her naked
breasts heaved, slightly, as she panted through her flaring
nostrils and squirmed in her inescapable bonds.
Bridget felt sorry for her erstwhile kidnapper and trainer—not!
It couldn't have happened to a nicer sadist."
Bridget took a sip of coffee, then set down her cup. "So,
I'm supposed to not call the police, or the sheriff, or
whoever arrests criminals around here... in exchange for
what? Free room and board?"
Meredith smiled. "My most trusted lawyers are working on a
carefully crafted set of nondisclosure agreements and contracts,
as we speak."
"No nondisclosure agreement ever written can indemnify you
against criminal acts," Bridget said evenly.
"Hence the 'carefully crafted' caveat," Meredith purred, then
her smile widened. "Congratulations are in order, Ms.
Riordan. One of my charitable foundations has selected you
as the recipient of its first ever 'genius grant.' There
will be a very large lump sum prize and a generous
annual stipend. You're now a rich woman, and need a place
to stay commensurate with your wealth and where you can
continue to write. Why not Wilkinson Ranch?"
Bridget wasn't smiling. "I'll be free to come and go?"
Meredith shrugged. "I'm afraid I must insist on an initial
period of... probation? Yes, let's go with
probation. While we work out the details, Lydia will make
sure you don't 'get lost' while strolling around the
property. After I'm satisfied there's no danger of my
rivals exploiting my little sister's faux pas—"
"Faux pas?" Bridget demanded.
"Faux pas, gaffe, indiscretion, egregious violation of
etiquette? You're the writer, Ms. Riordan. I'll
leave the choice of euphemism to you. Anyway, once I'm
satisfied that the situation has stabilized and is
acceptable to all parties, then yes, you'll be free to come and
go as you please."
Bridget nodded at Eve. "What about her?"
Meredith sighed. "Eve has always been a problem for the
family. No head for business. No creative talents to
speak of. I confess I've let her rule the roost at
Wilkinson Ranch for want of someplace better to keep her out of
trouble. Obviously, that plan was an abject
"No, ya think?" Bridget growled.
Meredith's smile returned. "My staff is researching the
average sentences for kidnapping and false imprisonment.
Preliminary results suggest decades of maximum security
incarceration, at the very least; therefore, I've decided Eve
will remain at Wilkinson Ranch and will serve her unofficial
sentence as a pony."
Eve's eyes popped wide and a strangled scream escaped her
ball-gagged mouth and tape-gagged lips, cut short by a painful zap
from the shock-collar around her throat.
"You need not worry yourself, Bridget," Meredith
continued. "May I call you Bridget?"
Her gaze on the struggling and now openly weeping Eve, Bridget
"Anyway," Meredith purred, "Eve will be Lydia's
responsibility. You won't be involved in her training and
Eve continued struggling... and weeping.
"I have a confession to make, Bridget," Meredith said.
Bridget turned her attention to her hostess.
"Interest in the unusual and unconventional aspects
of the equestrian lifestyle is a family hobby,"
Meredith purred, "not Eve's personal foible. Prancine and
Scheherazade are my ponies. I let Eve pretend
they were her property, but they're mine. Unfortunately,
business occupies almost all of my time. I manage a brief
vacation at the ranch now and then, but they're my
ponies. Eve took it upon herself to add a third
pony to the herd, and I've decided that's exactly what's going
to happen... only not in the way she intended."
Eve continued squirming and fighting her bonds. Her cheeks
were now flushed and wet with tears, above the smooth, taut
strip of tape plastered over her ball-gagged mouth.
"Well," Meredith said as she rose from the table, "it will take
Lydia and Maya some time to move Eve's things out of her
bedroom, so you'll have to continue using the attic guest room
for the next day or so. I suggest you wait the suggested
half-hour, then take a nice swim. Does that sound
Bridget nodded. Her gaze was back on Eve.
"I know you have a lot to think about," Meredith said as she
took Bridget's hand and helped her stand. "We can talk
"Uh... okay." With a final lingering glance at her former
mistress and trainer... who had just been demoted to full-time
pony... Bridget left the dining room.
|A Pony Named Freckles
little point in returning to the attic bedroom. Even if
Bridget wanted to change clothes, there was nothing in the
combination wardrobe/chest of drawers for her to change
into. She made a mental note to inquire after the clothes
she'd worn to her meeting with Eve... back when being a
"ponygirl" was a means for Bridget-the-writer to research the
various aspects of being an enslaved centaur maiden, not what in
her wildest dreams Bridget thought was something that
might actually happen to her.
A self-guided tour of her new, greatly expanded prison—the ranch
house—seemed in order. Bridget wandered from room to
room. She entered a living room, then a large, formal
dining room that was different from the small, more intimate
dining room where she'd just had breakfast. Next was a
library with hundreds of books, some bound in leather, some in
cloth, and some still retaining their publishers' glossy
book-covers. In a neat stack on a side table she noted
hardback editions of her complete works, all "Young Adult"
adventure/fantasy novels. The books were new, but creases
and minor tears in the covers suggested they'd probably been
read, at least once. The decor of all the rooms she'd
visited thus far was the same mix of Western, Hunting Lodge,
and/or Arts and Crafts. Bridget was entering what was
probably a home theater—
"There you are!"
Bridget flinched in surprise, then turned to find Scheherazade
and Prancine rapidly approaching from behind. They were
naked, of course. "Scare me to death, why don't you,"
Bridget complained, then her eyes popped wide.
"Mrrrpfh!" Scheherazade had pulled her into an embrace and
kissed her lips. The brown-eyed pony then handed the
startled Bridget off to her blue-eyed companion and another kiss
Blushing and wiping her lips with the back of her hand, Bridget
was released. "Stop that!" she gasped as the naked
brunettes shared one of their trademark giggling fits.
"Hey!" The ponies had taken her by the hands and were
dragging her down the hallway.
"C'mon!" Scheherazade laughed.
"Mistress says you're going swimming," Prancine added.
"We're here to help," Scheherazade explained.
"You need to even out your freckle collection," Prancine
"It was a suggestion," Bridget huffed, "going swimming, I mean."
"Right," Scheherazade giggled. "Mistress told you to do
something and it was only a suggestion."
The ponies found this to be the very height of hilarity, and
Bridget couldn't help but smile. She wasn't really
resisting, but her naked "captors" continued their firm grips on
her wrists as they pulled her along. They exited the house
via a side door, hurried down a flagstone path to the pool, then
the ponies started unbuttoning, unzipping, unclasping, and
removing Bridget's borrowed clothes.
"Hey!" Bridget objected. "Hands! Hands!"
Bridget's complaints were ignored and her fluttering hands
slapped away as she halfheartedly tried to impede the ponies'
highly successful disrobing efforts. "I can do it
myself! Stop! No. No! Don't you
dare—EEEEEH!" Her borrowed clothes now a disorderly heap
atop a lounge chair, Scheherazade and Prancine had seized
Bridget by the ankles and wrists, lifted her into the air, given
her a single swing, then tossed her into the deep end of the
Bridget's shriek of mock dismay was cut off by the cool,
churning water closing over her head. She touched bottom,
planted her feet, and pushed off. As soon as her head
broke the surface she glared at the laughing and
pointing ponies. "You rats!" she accused, then found
herself laughing, as well. The sky as blue, the sun
yellow, and there wasn't a single cloud anywhere to be
seen. It was the perfect Summer day for a swim.
"Be careful," Scheherazade giggled, "that pool is infested with
Treading water, Bridget favored the ponies with a skeptical
pout. They were sharing the task of folding and stacking
her clothes. "Tickle monsters?" she drawled.
"Oh, I'm afraid it's true," Prancine nodded. They'd
finished arranging the clothes in the order required for Bridget
to dress herself, once the swim was over. "You never know
when they might strike."
"They sometimes let you drift for hours," Scheherazade added in
a grave manner, then stepped to the edge of the pool.
"And then, when you least expect it," Prancine added as she
joined her fellow pony, "they strike!"
Bridget was already swimming away as the ponies dove into the
roiling water. It was a short chase. Soon, the
naked, brunette "tickle monsters" were having their way with the
poor, naked, giggling and sputtering ginger.
|A Pony Named Freckles
helpless pony who was formerly a mistress—was standing between
Meredith and Lydia—who very much were mistresses,
fully-clothed mistresses—at the windows of a cozy reading room,
watching Bridget, Scheherazade, and Prancine cavort in the
pool. The naked swimmers' girlish giggles and laughing
shrieks were barely audible through the double-pane glass.
Meredith was dressed in sensible pumps, a pencil skirt, and a
light cotton blouse, which was about as laid back a costume as
she usually wore, not counting the exercise togs appropriate for
any of the different sports and physical activities she used to
maintain her exquisite figure and high state of athletic
fitness. The ensemble was stylish and very
expensive, of course, but her business associates would have
recognized it as "casual wear."
Lydia was in her preferred Stable Mistress costume: cowgirl
boots, jeans, and a Western blouse. The end of a leather
lead clipped to Eve's collar was in her left hand and her right
hand had a firm grip on Eve's tousled blond hair.
Eve was still naked, ball- and tape-gagged, shock-collared, and
box-tied, but now her knees were bound together and her ankles
hobbled a few inches apart.
"This is going better than I expected," Meredith said, smiling
as the ponies and Bridget splashed and played.
"You can thank Scheherazade and Prancine for that," Lydia
drawled. "They're having more to do with making Bridget
feel welcome than the rest of us."
"Probably," Meredith nodded.
"Probably," Lydia agreed.
Several seconds passed as the naked, giggling, laughing women in
the pool, two deeply tanned and one freckled, continued their
"Go ahead and say it," Meredith purred.
"This is your fault," Lydia growled. "I told you ten
days ago that things were out of control and that I
needed to act."
Meredith sighed. "And I ordered you to wait until I could
free up my schedule and assess the situation personally. I
ordered you to wait. As you say, this is my fault."
"I feel like a rat," Lydia huffed. "Maya hides it well,
but she's livid. Even the ponies are feeling
guilty, although what they could have done, even if they fully
understood what Eve was doing to poor Freckles, I have no idea."
"It's all on my head," Meredith sighed, "but I'll do
everything I can to set things right." They watched the
splashing games in the pool for several seconds in silence, then
Meredith cleared her throat. "Anyway... I believe you have
some work to do in the stables before you can begin preparing
Bridget's new room. I'll take care of my sister until her
new accommodations are ready."
"Very well." Lydia handed the end of Eve's lead to
Meredith, released her hold on Eve's hair, then spun on her
booted heels and left the reading room.
Eve watched Lydia's exit, then turned to face her older sister.
Meredith had resumed watching the fun in the pool.
"Remember the Summer before I turned eighteen?" she said.
"Mother and Father were on that world tour vacation they'd been
planning for so long, and it was just you and me and Ms.
Prichard at the Hampton beach house." She turned her smile
to her naked, bound, and gagged sister. "She was the best
governess we ever had, don't you agree?" She turned back
to the pool. "She really knew how to tie someone up.
I learned a lot from Ms. Prichard. I learned how to
languish in ropes... and I learned how to tie up my bratty
little sister so she couldn't possibly wiggle
Eve remembered. She squirmed and tugged on her bonds, but
Lydia was every bit as expert a rigger as Ms. Prichard had
been. Eve knew she wasn't going to free herself, and with
the compound gag and the shock-collar punishing her
every attempt to speak, she couldn't even beg for mercy.
"Don't even bother," Meredith purred, as if reading her sister's
thoughts. Her eyes remained on the pool. "Maybe,
after I've had a chance to calm down... perhaps in a few
months... I'll have Lydia ease your situation. But don't
even try. I'm very angry."
All Eve could do was weep, and struggle against her inescapable
bonds, and wait for Lydia to return and drag her to her "new
|A Pony Named Freckles
lying in bed in her temporary attic bedroom and staring up at
the dark rafters overhead. Dinner was hours in the
past. It had been a delicious meal, another culinary
triumph for Maya, but it was accompanied by a long
discussion—more of a lecture, actually—with Meredith detailing
the freedoms and limitations of Bridget's new life.
Bridget would be denied access to the internet, or any other
means of communication with the outside world, at least for the
next few months. After Meredith's lawyers had prepared
papers for her to sign and Lydia was satisfied that the new
permanent house guest at Wilkinson Ranch—meaning the prisoner
of Wilkinson Ranch—could be trusted, that would
change. Bridget would be allowed to send and receive
e-mails with her publisher, transmit drafts of her new, and as
yet nonexistent writings, and continue her professional
career. The same went for her blog. There was
already a posting explaining that she was taking an extended
vacation, but eventually, she'd be able to communicate with her
With regards to leaving the ranch, that wasn't going to happen
for some time. The keys and/or key-fob transponders that
would allow her to drive away in one of the vehicles in the
ranch garage were kept locked in a steel cabinet. And as
for hiking to freedom, Wilkinson Ranch was isolated, to say the
least, and Meredith hinted about various surveillance and
security systems that would alert Lydia and/or Maya that she was
attempting to go off the reservation, so to speak. Escape
attempts would not be tolerated. There were no dire
warnings of being dragged to the stables and punished with
restrictive bondage, but it was made quite clear that the
implementation of unspecified "extra precautions" would ensue if
she tried to leave without permission.
Also, Lydia was in charge. When Meredith wasn't in
residence, which, apparently, was something like 300 or more
days out of the year, Lydia was in charge. Next came Maya,
but the brunette ponies weren't in the Wilkinson Ranch chain of
command. Bridget's status was that of permanent house
guest. She wasn't in the chain of command either.
As for Eve, Meredith reiterated that Eve was not Bridget's
concern. Again, Lydia was in charge, of the ranch in
general and Eve's training and care in particular. Bridget
was not to interfere.
Bridget heaved a sigh and rolled onto her side. Her
borrowed sandals, jeans, and Western blouse were in the
wardrobe, and additional pairs of panties and bras had
mysteriously appeared and were waiting in the attached chest of
drawers. Supposedly, the skirt, blouse, and jacket she'd
worn during her arrival would be forthcoming, as well a few more
changes of clothes. Also, several catalogs from which
she'd be allowed to go on a shopping spree would soon start
At the moment, Bridget was nude. This wasn't her usual
sleeping "costume," but she'd grown accustomed to not wearing
clothes (not counting harnesses and other restraints) during her
captivity... meaning her earlier, much more restrictive
captivity... as opposed to her current, much more expansive
captivity. Maybe she'd select a few nighties from the
catalogs, or maybe not. Hmm... I wonder if they
ordered a Victoria's Secret catalog? Bridget mused.
Anyway, for tonight, she was nude.
Bridget had a lot of thinking to do, and apparently she was
going to have all the time in the world in which to do it... as
well as to catch up on her reading... and to write (eventually,
once they gave her back her laptop)... and to swim... and...
A smile curled Bridget's lips as she remembered today's "pool
party" with Scheherazade and Prancine. There had been a
lot of splashing and tickling, some of it quite intimate, but no
serious hanky-panky—meaning no prolonged finger-fiddling or
licking—meaning no sex. Maybe I should do something
about that, Bridget thought. Her right hand slid
between her legs, and she gave her labia a slow, tentative
stroke with her fingers. Did she need to "relax?"
Yes. Bridget could feel the tension in her neck and
shoulder muscles. Her fingers and hand continued to
Suddenly, Bridget heard the sound of the bedroom door being
unlocked. She sat up in bed and stared across the dark
room. The door opened, and with the curtains of the barred
windows pulled back, there was just enough starlight for her to
confirm the arrival of Lydia.
The Stable Mistress (and true Mistress of the Ranch when
Meredith was away) wasn't wearing her usual cowgirl
costume. She'd changed into a skimpy, slinky, baby-doll
nightie and a long, frilly, whisper-thin robe. Whatever
their color or colors, the ensemble was dark, possibly a deep
shade of red, but the fabric was as sheer as a layer of smoke
and did nothing to disguise Lydia's athletic curves and full
breasts. Her blond hair was pulled back and restrained by
a narrow hairband-ribbon, and a smile curled her lips as she
strolled to the bed.
Bridget rolled onto her back with her head cushioned on a fluffy
pillow, pulled up the tangled covers, and clutched them at her
chin to preserve her modesty. "W-why are you here?" she
"I just thought I'd check in on you and make sure you're okay,"
Lydia explained. "It's been an eventful day."
"Ya think?" Bridget mumbled. Her heart was hammering, but
she wasn't scared... much. Oh-by-the-way, Lydia was gorgeous.
Even in the near darkness of the attic bedroom, she was gorgeous.
Lydia sat down on the bed, reached out, and gently combed the
hair from Bridget's freckled face, straightening her ginger
pageboy. "I also came to apologize," she explained.
"I've been busy and couldn't find an opportunity... until
now. By the way, you'll be able to move into your new
suite of rooms in the morning. The former occupant's
things have all been removed. One of the ponies will give
it a quick cleaning, then it will be yours."
Bridget gazed into Lydia's smiling face. "Apologize?"
Lydia nodded and her smile faded. "It didn't take long for
us to tell that Eve was out of control. She lied to
us. She said you wanted to be trained as a
ponygirl. We had no idea you were here against your
will. And once we realized the truth, I let Meredith talk
me into waiting until she could get here to see for
herself. I should have acted as soon as I was sure.
I'm sorry, Bridget. We didn't want this to happen to you."
Bridget nodded. "W-what's happening to Eve? I mean,
what's happening right now?"
Lydia's smile returned. "Don't worry about Eve.
She's put away for the evening and will start her pony training
in the morning. Eve will never trouble you again."
"And Scheherazade and Prancine?" Bridget whispered.
Lydia's smile widened. "Prancine is spending the night
with Mistress Meredith. This is a special night for
Prancine. Meredith's visits are few and far between, and
Prancine loves her Mistress. You see, Prancine
was her first."
"Her first pony," Bridget whispered.
Lydia nodded. "As for Scheherazade, Maya is making sure
she doesn't have reason to pout. That just leaves you and
Bridget's heart was still hammering. "And you're here to
apologize," she whispered.
"Yes," Lydia nodded. "You don't have to forgive me.
"I do," Bridget interrupted, then managed a shy smile. She
had no idea why, but Bridget found she did forgive the
Stable Mistress. "I do," she repeated.
"T-thank you," Lydia stammered, continuing to comb her fingers
through Bridget's hair.
With the decidedly poor lighting, Bridget couldn't be sure, but
the glint in Lydia's eyes suggested... tears? Go
figure. "Really," Bridget said, "I forgive you...
"I can live with that," Lydia chuckled.
"I do have a question," Bridget continued. "Can
you do something about my nipple-rings?"
Lydia stopped combing Bridget's hair and pulled down the
bedclothes, exposing the ginger's freckled shoulders, breasts,
and the gleaming steel nipple-rings in question. "These
nipple-rings here?" Lydia purred.
Bridget blushed, batted Lydia's hand away, and pulled the covers
back to her chin. "Yes," she responded, "those
"If you mean can I remove them for you," Lydia sighed, "I'm
afraid not. They really are permanent. But
there are other things I can do with them."
Much to her surprise, Bridget found a smile curling her lips...
her trembling lips. Her heart was hammering,
again... or still. She realized her heart rate hadn't been
normal since Lydia's unexpected appearance. She watched as
Lydia reached behind her head and untied the hairband-ribbon
restraining her long blond locks. The ribbon slithered
away, she shook her head, and Lydia's hair flowed free.
Then, the smiling blonde grabbed Bridget's left wrist and pounced!
"Hey!" Bridget objected. Lydia had flipped her onto her
stomach, pulled down the covers, was astride her back, and was
using the ribbon to bind her wrists behind her back!
"No!" It was all but over before Bridget could mount an
effective defense... not that Bridget was sure she could prevail
against Lydia no matter how much time she was given to
prepare. Anyway... "Ohhh!" ...the ribbon was knotted and
the deed was done. "Lydia!" she whined as she was flipped
back onto her shoulders, naked rump, and now bound wrists.
Lydia's knees and thighs were to either side of Bridget's waist
and hips and at least a part of her weight was pinning down the
pouting ginger's squirming body and weakly kicking legs.
Bridget satisfied herself that she was, indeed, inescapably
bound and unable to wiggle free of Lydia's kneeling,
nightie-clad body. She stopped struggling and glared up at
her captor's smiling (gorgeous) face. "Meanie!" she
"Just to be clear," Lydia purred, "Mistress Meredith is
ultimately in charge, and I will execute her orders...
within reason." She leaned close and kissed Bridget's
pouting lips. "You're to have the run of the house,
reasonable access to the stables, outbuildings, and grounds, and
you will go on regular runs to maintain your fitness,
accompanied, of course—" She planted another kiss.
"—and you will follow all orders of Maya and
myself. If you're disobedient, or start sulking, your
clothing privileges will be revoked."
Bridget couldn't help but smile, just a little. "My
clothing privileges?" she whispered.
"Your clothing privileges," Lydia confirmed with a grave
nod. "In the same vein, you're to maintain and nurture
your freckle collection. Skinny-dipping at the pool will
Bridget continued smiling. "Does that go for the Stable
Mistress, as well?"
Lydia smiled. "Cheeky monkey. Just for
that..." She reached down and pinched the index fingers
and thumbs of her left and right hands through Bridget's right
and left nipple-rings, respectively... then gently pulled...
until Bridget's breasts stretched into freckled cones.
Bridget shivered and bit her lower lip. "Lydia!" she
"Quiet," Lydia chuckled. "I told you there were things
I could do with your nipple-rings, didn't I?" She
continued tugging on the rings in question, varying the pressure
on each breast in turn. "Your heart is beating a mile a
minute, Bridget," she observed, "and you're beginning to
sweat." She released the rings, leaned close, and kissed
Bridget's lips for a third time. "Say the word and I'll
leave," she whispered. "I'll even be nice enough to untie
your wrists before I go."
Bridget could tell she was, indeed, glowing, meaning was
beginning to sweat. Also, her breasts were bobbing as she
panted through her slightly open mouth and flaring
nostrils. "So, I'm to be your obedient prisoner," she
sighed, "but you'll go if I tell you."
Lydia nodded. "Most assuredly... on both counts."
Bridget shivered again as Lydia cupped her breasts and gently
squeezed, then took hold of her nipple-rings and gave them
"Well," Bridget whispered, "I'll let you know."
Lydia's smile widened. "The ponies say you're a bit of a
screamer," she purred. "The ranch house has pretty good
soundproofing, inside and out, but we can't have you disturbing
Mistress Meredith. You're to keep the caterwauling to a
minimum, or I'll gag you with my panties."
Bridget smiled... and shivered. Lydia continued tugging on
her rings. The sensation was... remarkable. Bridget
had never felt so completely under the control of
someone else, not even when she was buckled into her
training-harness, laced into her pony-boots, and hitched to the
garden cart. "I'll spit them out," she warned, meaning the
"My robe has a belt," Lydia countered.
Bridget's lips curled in a coy smile. The belt would make
an excellent cleave-gag. "Touché."
"You came here to learn what it was like to be a pony, right?"
"Actually," Bridget responded, "I came here to research what it
might be like for my fictional centaur maidens to be enslaved,
"Do you still want to learn?" Lydia asked. She was
massaging Bridget's breasts, again.
"I... maybe." Idiot! Bridget chided
herself. Why did I say that?"
"I'm not Eve," Lydia said quietly.
Bridget's coy smile returned. "I know. Your hair is
longer. I can tell the two of you apart nine times out of
"Cheeky pony," Lydia purred. "Just for that, your
learning will continue... when you're ready."
"When I'm ready."
"When you're ready," Lydia confirmed, then climbed off the bed
(and Bridget), shrugged out of her whisper-thin robe, then
pulled her equally sheer nightie over her head and tossed it
aside. She then hooked the sides of her panties with her
thumbs, pulled them down her long, strong legs, and stepped
free. Gloriously, gorgeously nude, she
tossed the panties onto the bed, just to the right of Bridget's
head; then pulled the ribbon-like belt from her robe and tossed
it to the left of Bridget's smiling head.
Bridget didn't miss the not-so-subtle reminder that if she made
too much noise, the makings of the promised effective gag would
be close at hand. She watched as Lydia reached for the sky
in a spine-bending, boob-flattening stretch... then smiled down
at Bridget and climbed back onto the bed, as graceful as a puma.
"Remember," Lydia purred, "no screaming."
"Yes, Mistress," Bridget sighed. She knew she still needed
to do a lot of thinking about her changed circumstances, but
obviously all of that would have to wait. She shook her
head in a vain effort to straighten her pageboy, and watched as
Lydia slid down the bed between her splayed legs, settled onto
her stomach, and used her strong fingers to spread her flushed
labia, meaning Bridget's glistening labia. The
helpless ginger flinched and felt her pussy tingle and thigh
muscles tense in response.
"No you don't, Freckles," Lydia warned. "Don't you dare
close those legs."
"Yes, Mistress," Bridget sighed.
Lydia extended her tongue and gave Bridget's pussy a slow,
And thus it was that Bridget Riordan, a.k.a. Freckles the pony,
became the writer-in-residence at Wilkinson Ranch and the fourth
member of Meredith Wilkinson's ponygirl herd.