Castle Tydwell
by Van



Six Months into the Immurement of
The Honorable Cressida Genevieve Roxanne Tydwell
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 asked.

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 huffed.

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 Hole."

"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 warning.

"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 another.  Anyway..."

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 marks.

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.



And  Our Story, Entire.

Chapter 10
Send feedback to the author