|by Van © 2016
quickly came to the conclusion that Wilkinson Ranch had the
facilities to house and train the mounts and remounts of an
entire troop of cavalry, including a circular indoor
training track, a double row of stalls down either side of the
main stable, multiple tack rooms, and even a smithy for the
fitting of iron shoes. She knew there were a lot of
details she was missing, not being an equestrian enthusiast, but
she was quite impressed. And they never even got to the
outbuildings. Bridget assumed they were more of the same,
or perhaps held gardening and maintenance workshops and
Lydia was smiling, friendly, and informative, as if she'd given
such tours before. Finally, they arrived back at the main
house and Lydia handed Bridget off to her boss.
Eve had said she was going to change, and she had.
Bridget's eyes widened, slightly, but she controlled her
reaction. Her hostess was now wearing a pair of sandals
and a light cotton robe over a string bikini in a shade of
sky-blue that more-or-less matched the color of her eyes.
"After a quick tour," Eve explained, "I'm going for a dip.
And after that, we'll have dinner on the patio."
"Uh, okay," Bridget responded. Eve Wilkinson certainly
kept herself in good shape, Bridget noted, and her athletic but
very feminine body was certainly no stranger to the sun.
"Things to do," Lydia said, then turned on her booted heel and
The tour was, indeed, quick, and the mansion's interior decor
complemented its rustic exterior. That is, rough, mortared
stone and richly stained wood were everywhere, and Bridget
decided the furnishings might be described as Arts and Crafts
meets Pioneer. In any case, she was impressed. There
was a vast "Great Room" with a grand staircase, balconies
overlooking from the second and third floors, and a
mammoth fireplace. There was also a large, very
well-stocked library, a home gym, additional parlors and sitting
rooms, and a home theater, and all of that was just on the first
They passed the kitchen, but Eve explained that when Maya was
busy preparing a meal, it was more or less off limits, even to
Eve. Bridget assumed she was joking. They did get
close enough to hear the clatter of pans and to savor a spicy,
Next, they entered one of the smaller lounges and Eve led
Bridget through a pair of French doors and out onto the patio
and pool area. Stone flags were underfoot, there was a
wrought-iron dining table and chairs, and groupings of teak
lounge chairs with soft cushions. The pool was large and
vaguely kidney-shaped, with a picturesque pile of boulders and a
splashing waterfall at one end. Like the mansion and its
interior, the theme was Rustic Luxury.
Obviously, Bridget thought, Eve Wilkinson is loaded...
"I'll show you to your room," Eve said, then led her back to the
Great Room, up the grand staircase, and down a side hall to a
charming guest room on the second floor—and by "charming"
Bridget meant larger than her entire apartment back in the
city. It had an attached bath, with separate tub and
shower, a balcony overlooking a magnificent forest vista, and a
second balcony overlooking the Great Room. The bed was
queen-sized, possibly king-sized, with a canopy and four corner
posts that were actually peeled logs. A love seat, easy
chair, and small fireplace completed the furnishings.
There was also a walk-in closet, but its various drawers,
shelves, and racks were empty; although Bridget did notice that
someone had hung her jacket from a hanger and placed her
sling-purse on an otherwise empty shelf. She assumed it
had been Maya, or possibly Eve, herself.
"This is beautiful," Bridget gushed, smiling at her
hostess. "The entire house is beautiful."
"Thank you," Eve beamed, then led Bridget to the bed.
Bridget's eyes popped wide, again. Draped across the foot
of the neatly made bed was a white cotton robe, but next to it
was what was obviously a white string bikini. There was
also a pair of sandals similar to Eve's waiting on the floor.
"Why don't you freshen up, change, and meet me down at the
pool," Eve suggested. "You'll be able to find your way,
Bridget's gaze was still on the bikini. It looked
rather... skimpy. But then, so was the collection of
sky-blue swatches hugging Eve's breasts and, uh, bikini
area. "Yes, I—"
"Excellent," Eve chuckled, leaned close and planted a quick kiss
on Bridget's right cheek, then turned and strolled towards the
bedroom door. "Welcome to Wilkinson Ranch."
Bridget opened her mouth to object, or to say something,
but she was too late. The bedroom door had closed and her
hostess was gone. She turned back to the bed and gazed
down at the bikini, again.
Well, she thought, when in Rome...
|A Pony Named
Bridget felt a
little silly as she made her way down to the door leading out to
the patio and pool. It wasn't like she never went swimming
or never wore a swimsuit. Granted, the suit back at her
apartment was a one-piece training suit she used to swim at the
gym, and the borrowed white bikini she was now wearing was
somewhat minimal, but she wasn't a prude. And it wasn't
like she had anything to be ashamed of in the body
department. Bridget kept herself in good shape, because it
made her feel good, and while her naturally fair skin was nearly
as white as the bikini, she had boobs, a flat tummy, firm hips,
and... anyway... Let Eve get as judgmental as she
wants, Bridget decided. She opened the French doors
and strode confidently (yeah, right) towards the pool.
Eve was already in the water. Her robe and a fluffy,
jade-green towel were draped over a lounge chair with her empty
sandals nearby, neatly side-by-side on the stone flags. A
second towel was draped over a neighboring chair, and Bridget
assumed it was for her. She removed her robe and sandals,
did a full-body stretch, then stepped to the deep end of the
pool and executed a graceful overhand dive into the blue depths.
The water was cool and refreshing, and didn't sting her eyes or
smell of chlorine. Bridget assumed the pool was fed by
either a well or a nearby stream, and the water was
filtered. More obscene rustic luxury, she mused as
she returned to the surface and began to tread water.
Eve swam to her side and also began to tread. "This time
of year I enjoy a swim nearly every day," she said. "Lydia
is also my personal trainer, so after we go for a run or she
spots me in the gym, there's nothing better."
"Amen to that," a husky, alto voice chuckled from behind
Bridget's back. She spun in the water and found Lydia
smiling down at them from poolside.
A towel draped over her right shoulder, the blond stable
mistress/personal trainer was in a bikini, like Bridget and Eve,
but Lydia's bikini was a pastel brick-red. Also, she was gorgeous
(in Bridget's personal opinion). Lydia's skin was
naturally fairer than her employer's, so she didn't have the
same rich, "beach bunny" tan, but she was quite obviously just
as familiar with the sun as Eve. And as for her
body... Lydia was no musclebound bodybuilder, but she was
an amazon goddess (again, in Bridget's personal opinion).
Strong, well-defined muscles, sculpted, flat stomach, full
breasts—full, but not huge—Lydia was... hot.
Bridget made the impromptu decision to start thinking of Lydia
as "Hot Lydia," but decided to keep the joke to herself.
Lydia tossed the towel on another of the lounge chairs, then
went to the pool's diving board and executed a full somersault
into an overhand dive, disappearing into the depths with nothing
that could be called an actual splash.
"Wow," Bridget sighed, continuing to dog-paddle.
"She is amazing," Eve chuckled. "I was thinking of having
a tower installed, but Lydia says I'd have to enlarge and deepen
the pool. I may still do it."
Lydia's head broke the surface beside Bridget and Eve, and now
all three were treading water in a group. "Maya says
dinner is almost ready," she said to Eve.
"It is ready!" a fourth voice shouted from the direction
of the house.
"I swear, she has ears like a bat," Lydia purred.
Maya was wearing the same boots, jeans, and blouse as before,
and was pushing a wooden serving cart. "Get out of the
pool," Maya ordered as she started arranging four place settings
at the table.
"When the food comes!" Eve answered.
"If it all gets cold!" Maya huffed as she finished the
arrangements and pushed the cart back towards the kitchen, "it's
nothing to me!"
"Well, this was a short dip," Lydia chuckled as she swam for the
"After you," Eve purred, indicating the ladder with a languid,
Bridget exited the pool, followed by her hostess. Soon,
all three swimmers were drying themselves with their
towels. Eve quickly ran a wide-toothed comb through her
rather short blond locks, then handed it to Bridget, who ran the
comb through her still very damp pageboy, then handed it to
Bridget watched as Eve stepped into her sandals, then strolled
to the table and sat. She hadn't shrugged into her robe,
and as far as Bridget could tell, Lydia hadn't brought a robe
with her. She gave a mental shrug, stepped into her own
borrowed sandals, and joined her hostess at the table.
Maya had returned with the cart and was loading the table with
hot platters of steaming food. "Rio Verde chicken
enchiladas, roasted vegetables, black beans, tortillas, and cerveza.
Bridget's mouth was watering. It was a feast! The cerveza
in question was bottles of Corona Light nestled in a small tub
"You aren't going to take a swim?" Lydia chuckled as she took a
seat. Obviously, she was teasing Maya.
"It isn't Saturday," Maya huffed as she spooned a pair of
enchiladas onto Bridget's plate. "I only bathe on
Saturdays," she said to Bridget, "whether I need it or not."
Bridget couldn't help but smile. Obviously, Maya did not
have a hygiene problem.
"Also, I don't swim," Maya added as she loaded Eve's plate with
"Liar," Lydia chuckled, then grinned at Bridget. "She
swims like a frog."
"A frog?" Maya gasped in outrage, then loaded her own
plate. "I swim like a fish... a beautiful, silver
"Maybe a brown carp," Lydia purred as she took the serving spoon
from Maya's hand and loaded her plate with a generous serving of
"Enough," Eve laughed, then lifted the lid of the tortilla
warmer and held it for Bridget to make her selection.
The rest of the food was distributed and the meal began.
Bridget liked Mexican cuisine, but Maya's cooking took the usual
chain restaurant fare to a whole new level. "This is
delicious," Bridget said to Maya.
"Oh, thank you," Maya said with a warm smile.
"It's nice to have my efforts appreciated by someone."
Eve and her employees were a lot of fun, the evening was
pleasantly warm, the beer refreshing, and the food delicious—and
no one was staring at Bridget's inadequately clad, pale body—as
far as she could tell. Also, Bridget wasn't staring at
either Eve's or Lydia's exquisite bodies.
Night was falling, and foot-level lighting across the pool area
automatically turned itself on. Also, the elements of
infrared heaters atop posts on either side of the table began
glowing with a dim, reddish light, shedding welcome warmth.
Suddenly, Bridget noticed something dark and tiny erratically
flit and flutter across the twilight sky. "Is that a bat?"
Eve nodded. "It's about that time."
Bridget smiled and continued eating.
"Banana tacos with papaya and strawberry salsa for dessert,"
Maya announced as the plates emptied.
|A Pony Named
and Prancine had been tied to their posts in the outbuilding
basement for hours. Night had fallen, the light from the
doubly-barred window had long since dwindled, and now they were
in near total darkness. When either ponygirl turned her
well-gagged head and sad gaze in the direction of her fellow
captive, her dark-adapted eyes could just make out the glinting
outline of the naked curves of her equally helpless companion
and a hint of the white ropes binding her to her post.
How long? Scheherazade wondered. How long is
Mistress going to leave us down here? This certainly
wasn't the first time the naked, bound, and gagged captive had
silently asked that question; but for once, to her relief and
surprise (but with a tad of apprehension) she received an
The basement's lights, such as they were, clicked on, the
ponygirls squinted in the sudden glare, and watched as Lydia and
Maya descended the basement stairs. There was a pause
while Lydia unlocked and opened the door in the wall of iron
bars that would have kept Scheherazade and Prancine trapped in
the basement in the astronomically unlikely event that they had
somehow freed themselves from their rope bonds, then the smiling
Stable Mistress and Mistress Cook entered the basement proper.
Both Mistresses were dressed in their usual boots, jeans, and
blouses. Somewhat ominously, draped over Maya's right
shoulder was what both ponygirls recognized as a full set of
"slave-chains." Its manacles, shackles, collar, and
connecting chains rattled and swayed with the Latina's every
step. Maya also had a black leather hood in her left hand
and a riding crop in her right, and the crop was one of Mistress
Eve's "special" models with a shock-wand built into the
handle. Lydia was totally unencumbered.
The blonde and brunette stopped in front of the helpless
ponygirls and gazed at the naked, bound and gagged prisoners
with their very familiar wicked smiles.
"Rock-paper-scissors?" Maya suggested.
"I know you prefer playing with Prancine," Lydia purred, "and
tonight's enchiladas were a work of art."
The ponygirl's stomachs rumbled at the mention of
enchiladas. They'd had nothing to eat since breakfast.
"How very sweet," Maya cooed. "And I'm sure the fact that
your favorite is Scheherazade has nothing to do
Still smiling, Lydia locked eyes with Scheherazade.
"Accept the compliment, Maya," she purred, "and take good care
of Prancine. Mistress would be very displeased if the new
pony hears her making a fuss."
Maya had no intention of removing Prancine's gag, not now, and
not after releasing her from the post, "dressing" her in the
slave-chains, and dragging her to the mansion. Nor would
she remove her gag (which would be reinforced by the leather
hood) while the ponygirl-in-chains cleaned the kitchen from top
to bottom under Maya's demanding and highly critical
supervision. Once she had the helpless beauty behind the
locked door of
her private apartment, that would be another matter. The
new, unbroken, strawberry roan pony's guest room—by which she
meant Bridget's guestroom—was in the opposite wing of the
mansion and one floor up from Maya's rooms. She might
ring-gag her playmate-for-the-night or fit her with a
double-penis-gag, but Maya had no intention of giving Prancine
more than a fleeting chance to scream, and the ponygirl knew
full well what would happen if she tried.
"No problema," Maya purred, then began the process of
replacing Prancine's multitude of tight rope bonds with cold
steel. The smiling Latina was every bit as competent a
rigger as Lydia, even though she was admittedly less
expert in the equestrian aspects of Mistress Eve's
"hobby." In any case, Prancine never had a chance to mount
a credible resistance, much less escape. The tight web of
white ropes was removed and replaced in carefully planned
increments. This wasn't Maya's first rodeo. Far from
At the same time, Lydia set about the task of releasing
Scheherazade from her post. Lydia's
favorite pony would also experience the now familiar process of
having her bondage changed without ever being even remotely
free. In a surprisingly short time, Scheherazade was prone
on the floor with her arms behind her back and bound with the
same white rope that had lashed her to the post. Tight,
well-cinched ropes bound her ankles, her shins and calves,
passed above and below the knees, her thighs, and lashed her
wrists. There was a crotch-rope, more ropes encircled her
waist and forearms, her elbows, upper arms and torso, above and
below her breasts, and yoked her shoulders. And all of the
elements of her new bonds were interconnected by a web of
vertical and diagonal strands of tight, flesh-dimpling rope.
It wasn't Scheherazade's first rodeo either. She'd been
bound in this same "wiggle-worm" fashion many times
before. Her gag remained intact, with the same sponge
filling her mouth and held in place by the same cleave- and
over-the-mouth Vet-wrap gag.
Scheherazade gazed up at the smiling Stable Mistress she would
be servicing this evening. Lydia slept in an outbuilding,
well away from the main house. It was actually a
comfortable, even luxurious cottage situated on the far side of
the stables. Once Lydia had her favorite ponygirl safely
inside her private domain and removed her gag—hopefully to feed
her a generous helping of reheated enchiladas—Scheherazade knew
she could scream her head off (if she was that stupid) and would
be unheard from inside the mansion. She sighed as Lydia
lifted her onto her shoulder and carried her towards the stairs.
Prancine was right behind, obediently shuffling in her hobbling
shackles with her wrists manacled in front and the collar's
leash in Maya's left hand. She knew her hands were in
front so she'd be able to work once they reached the
kitchen. The hood now covered and tightly encased her head
with only her nose, eyes and forehead exposed, and together with
the sponge still stuffed in her mouth and the Vet-wrap still
mummifying her lower face, would make sure she kept any
complaints (or warnings) to herself.
Even though it was a special day—the arrival of a new pony—it
was business as usual at Wilkinson Ranch.
|A Pony Named
was semi-reclined, resting her back, shoulders, and head on
several pillows piled against the headboard of a four-poster bed
strikingly similar to the one in the "guest room" where her new
pony was spending her first night at the ranch. In point
of fact, Bridget's accommodations were usually reserved for the
exclusive use of Eve's big sister, Meredith, on the rare
occasions when she visited the Ranch—hence the equality of size,
features, and furnishings to Eve's bedroom suite.
Technically, the entire estate was Meredith's property, but
Eve's elder sibling was a city girl and had little interest in
rural living (although she was into ponygirl husbandry).
Eve was dressed in a white, whisper-thin, baby-doll nightie, and
was gazing down the length of the bed (and her scantily clad
body) at the titanic screen of a high-definition television
mounted on the far wall of the bedroom. In point of fact,
it was three screens flush-mounted edge-to-edge in triptych
fashion. The estate's security and entertainment systems
were totally integrated, and Eve could simultaneously open
multiple windows on the screens and display movies, television
programming, or the output of any of the multitude of
HDTV/infrared surveillance cameras hidden across the estate,
including the interior of the mansion.
At the moment, three equally sized windows filled the three
screens, side by side.
On the left screen was a view of the kitchen, one floor
below. Maya, riding crop in hand, was supervising Prancine
as the chained and hooded pony diligently scrubbed a large,
wok-like pan at the scullery sink. The naked and gagged
captive had already loaded the dishwasher, wiped down the island
cook-top, and a mop and bucket were standing by to clean the
floor once all other tasks were properly completed. Eve
noted that Maya had allowed Prancine to don heavy rubber gloves
to protect her manacled hands, but this was as much self
interest on Maya's part as kindness. No one likes a
ponygirl with rough hands that smell of soap or harsh cleaners.
Eve also noted the five or six distinctive, vaguely leaf-shaped
marks on Prancine's naked buttocks, evidence that Maya had used
the crop to punish Prancine when the pony's efforts failed to
live up to her exacting standards. The red marks weren't
serious, of course, and would fade quickly, as would any others
Maya might feel impelled to inflict.
Eve smiled. Once the kitchen was sparkling clean and ready
for breakfast, she knew Maya would lead her prisoner to her
room, and there, Prancine would entertain the demanding
Latina. The entertainment in question might take any of
If Maya was in a passive mood, she might make Prancine sleep on
the floor, tethered by her collar-chain in some manner. Or
she might leave Prancine up on her toes, if Maya was feeling
bitchy. Lashing the proud pony to a straight chair with
clamps on her nipples was another option, as was locking her in
the tiny "puppy-cage" Maya kept in the very back of her walk-in
If Maya was in an active mood, however, Prancine would
share her bed, at least until her lips and tongue had given
Mistress Maya one or more orgasms. A diligent mistress
(and always obedient to Eve's orders) Maya would probably
replace Prancine's hood with a ring-gag. That might make
the pony's servicing efforts more of a challenge, but Prancine
was both well-trained and experienced.
Eve knew a covered plate atop an electric warmer was already
waiting on a side table in Maya's bedroom, and Maya always kept
cold cerveza in a nearby mini-fridge. The plate
probably held the same food Eve, the new pony, Lydia, and Maya
herself had enjoyed at their poolside dinner. At some
point, Maya would remove Prancine's gag and feed her, more
evidence of the Latina's diligence. Ponygirl maintenance
is never neglected at Wilkinson Ranch.
On the right screen, the bedroom of Lydia's cottage was on
display. No cleaning required, the Stable Mistress had
already fed Scheherazade and taken her to bed. Lydia was
nude and in the same pose as her watching mistress, only her
legs were widely splayed and a thoroughly bound Scheherazade was
on her stomach, between said legs, and doing her best to bring
Lydia to orgasm. Other than the gloriously erotic sight of
Lydia's unbound and the pony's bound bodies, all Eve could
really see was Scheherazade's bobbing head as she licked,
sucked, and probed Lydia's pussy—that and Lydia's squirming,
writhing, grimacing reactions.
A ball-gag waited to plug Scheherazade's talented mouth once
Lydia was satisfied, but as with Maya and her playmate, it
remained to be seen if the ponygirl would be allowed to share
the bed... or would sleep on the floor.
Neither Maya nor Lydia knew that their personal areas were far
from private. Eve had quietly arranged for Lydia's cottage
and Maya's apartment to be surreptitiously added to the
surveillance system during the last upgrade, but that was
neither here nor there. All of Wilkinson Ranch was the
domain of Mistress Eve. Her Stable Mistress and Cook were
well paid (with spectacular fringe benefits), so why
shouldn't Eve watch their fun whenever she felt the
urge? It was her right!
Meanwhile, on the center screen... Bridget Riordan was asleep in
her borrowed bed. The image was rather dim and slightly
shifted into the red, unlike the relatively bright and much more
active images to either side, but Eve could easily examine every
detail of her new pony's relaxed, beautiful features.
She'd already watched Bridget make her preparations for bed and
dress in a borrowed nightie and panties more-or-less identical
to the whisper-thin, frilly organza garments hugging Eve's own
form, then slide between the sheets and turn off the reading
light. The infrared camera and image processing software
of the mansion's system had taken things from there.
Eve was entirely satisfied with her new acquisition, and she'd
already received an e-mail from the operatives she'd hired to
handle things in the city. Tomorrow, Bridget's landlord
would be presented with a forged power of attorney and informed
that the redhead had taken a lucrative new job abroad and had
already left the country. The paperwork required to break
her lease would be handled and all Bridget's worldly goods
packed and placed in storage. Eve had hired
professionals. Nothing would go wrong.
Eve's smile turned decidedly evil and her eyes sparkled with
wicked glee as she gazed at the slumbering beauty... the
slumbering beauty who had already begun her new life... but
didn't yet know it.
Eve's smile faded. 'Bridget,' she sighed. That
won't do. She remembered her first sight of her new
pony's pale, feminine curves down at the pool. The
borrowed white bikini had hidden very little, only her nipples
and ginger pubic bush, really, but Eve had caught glimpses of
all three treasures on the screen as her "guest" changed for
bed. Bridget obviously took good care of herself, but
Lydia would soon have her in even better
condition. The pony's muscles would soon be better defined
and her pale skin smooth and firm—not that Bridget's skin wasn't
already smooth and firm. And once she had a few
days in the sun, exercising and getting used to wearing
pony-boots and full harness...
Eve's smile returned. That's it! She'd made
Eve leaned to the side, pulled a torpedo-style vibrator from the
top drawer of the bedside table, clicked it on, then slid the
latex-clad, buzzing shaft under her panties and began sliding it
against her moist, flushed labia, rewarding herself for her
creativity. Eve had thought of the perfect name
for her new ponygirl!
On the center screen, "Freckles" snuggled against her pillow and
her lips began to move, just a little, as if she was
whispering. At the same time, her eyes began rolling and
twitching under their closed lids. Bridget Riordan was
dreaming, totally unaware that her waking world was about to
become a nightmare.
|A Pony Named Freckles