The white leather corset danced before her eyes. It was finely boned, in intervals of approximately one inch, and the white metal eyelets at the rear of the garment suggested that either rope or ribbon would be required to lace it, depending on how tightly it would need to be fastened. In contrast, it was outlined with black piping and featured a swirling, looping design of what appeared to be a Celtic pattern in origin. Whilst Jenny could admire the beauty of the garment, it looked about three sizes too small. There was no way the thing was going to fit.
Jenny's approval wasn't required because a few seconds later Hetty began to wrap the cold material over her stomach, letting it unfurl slowly around her back. There was a good four inches of bare skin left between the corset's edges and Jenny had to resist the urge to smile smugly.
'I'm going to need another set of hands to fasten this beast,' called Hetty, but Agnes was already there with two coiled lengths of thin white rope in her hands. She began threading it through the eyelets, crossing them over each other with rapid dexterity for a woman of her age, until all the eyelets had been filled. She left the rope tails trailing down Jenny's buttocks.
'Hetty, you're going to have to pull today. My back won't take any more punishment.' Agnes moved back to allow her stocky colleague to get a firm grip on both ends of the rope.
'Brace yourself,' Agnes said to Jenny, but her charge had obviously not paid her any heed because when Hetty used all her strength to tug ferociously on the cords, it felt like someone had bounced her stomach across the room, and she made a gurgling sound of shocked protest. Alas, the Victorian torture had only just begun. Hetty began tightening the ropes at each pair of eyelets until Jenny could feel the individual bones of the corset pressing into her flesh.
Agnes had positioned herself in front of the pony, admiring the shape her waist was beginning to take. 'Hetty will give you the most amazing hourglass figure in no time at all. There's not a matron in this stable that can lace a corset tighter than our dear Hetty.'
Henrietta snorted, but Jenny was not of a mind to doubt Agnes' words because a knee had been sunk into her back and the ropes had now begun to rob her of the ability to breathe. Her ribcage was not at all happy. Were they trying to kill her? Surely there were simpler ways?
Agnes continued chattering, completely oblivious to Jenny's acute discomfort. 'In Victorian England the ladies were trying to get their breasts to resemble 'rising moons', and they were laced to within an inch of their life. Agnes took hold of her own set of frighteningly large moons and pushed them upward and together in demonstration. Her newest filly did not know where to look. 'Ribs were bruised, bones were broken and flesh was torn. It was a sorry state of affairs. But we're very careful about the health of our fillies here at Albrecht, aren't we Hetty?'
Hetty mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative. The words 'bloody bad backs', 'lightweight' and 'need to buy me a drink' were also being said at intervals in a strangulated kind of hiss.
Agnes kept going. 'That corset you're being fitted in is going to be a permanent addition to your body until you've managed to achieve a twenty-five inch waist, at the very least. The smaller the waist the more valuable the pony, so you'll need to get used to sleeping in your corset for the foreseeable future. The laces will not be released for anything other than health reasons or the need to fit a new corset with tighter specifications.'
Jenny wished Agnes would stop prattling on. She didn't need to hear any of this as she wouldn't be in the stables long enough for their nonsense to materialise. Realising that she'd need to speak now, preferably while there was still some semblance of air in her body if she wanted to employ her bribery tactics, she cleared her throat. Squeaking as loud as her lungs would allow she managed, 'What would you ladies think if you suddenly had two million pounds in your bank
account?
' The last word was several octaves higher than it should have been, due to the vicious tug Henrietta gave on the laces.
Henrietta turned her head around and frowned at Agnes. Her knee was still pressed firmly into Jenny's back, and standing on one leg was always a bit precarious when you were a woman of her particular size and stature. 'Have you got her bridle ready, Aggie?'
'Oh, Hetty,' Agnes was trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress a giggle. 'Aren't you at least going to listen to what she's got to say? This will be her last chance to speak for a little while.' There was the sound of leather flapping against a hard surface and a few swear words before Agnes finally managed to add, 'Found them!'
'No. I'm bored of bribery attempts and don't you mean, found it?' Henrietta gave another almighty shove into Jenny's back and Jenny had to shelve her attempt at speaking for at least the next few seconds.
'No, found them: my glasses.' She placed the pair of gold spectacles on her nose, wiggled it and blinked her eyes a few times. 'Now I can work on untangling her bridle.'
Jenny realised time was running out for her. Agnes was perhaps a minute away from gagging her permanently. She needed to get a move on.
'Let's say five million each, then. Just think what you could do with that kind of muh... muh... money...' The last word was a mere whisper. Jenny's body felt like a balloon, right after someone had taken a pin to it.
'Got it.' Agnes held up the bit and bridle and looked very pleased with herself.
'Then for God's sake fit the damn thing. Have you attached the tongue-port? Daniel informed me that Mr A has already requested she be fitted with one. Good job you ordered it.'
'I know my fillies.' Agnes concentrated on attaching a short rectangle of solid rubber around the bit. It would keep Jenny's tongue depressed while she was bridled and the trainee would have no choice but to give up the ridiculous nonsense of trying to talk at every opportunity.
Agnes quietly pulled herself upright and came to stand at the back of the Jenny's head, the bit ready in her hand. 'How much did you say you were willing to offer again?'
'Five mill...' Jenny could not finish her sentence. Agnes had efficiently slotted in the bit, complete with tongue-depressor, and she was now fitting Jenny's bridle with smart and efficient clicks and snaps. Jenny began squawking and rattling her head as far as the chains that bound her would allow. It had little effect. She was, as far as speech was concerned, silenced.
Hetty, with a last gargantuan effort, had finally finished tying the corset in place and was knotting the ends securely. When she had finished she cut the remainder of the rope away with a penknife.
'Just for your information, it would be more than our lives are worth to accept bribes. So if you are given the chance to speak, and ponies rarely are, make sure you put your voice to better use.'
Jenny tried to say something in response and was horrified when all that came out of her mouth was a muffled mess.
'Don't bother trying to talk. The tongue-port will ensure that all intelligible speech is a thing of the past,' said Hetty. 'It's a bit mean for a new pony, but by all accounts you've earned it. The biggest downside to wearing one is the drool. You're going to be dribbling like a baby for the next few weeks and it'll be thirsty work. Your trainer will be made aware that they're to carry a bottle of water or have you near a drinking trough at regular intervals, so don't worry.'
Don't worry? No, she was just peachy, thanks. She had a mouthful of rubber, could barely swallow and was unable to talk. And that wasn't all. There was her corseted waist, a stomach that was under more pressure than Mount Vesuvius just before an eruption, and the fact that these ladies weren't finished by a long shot, judging by the jumble of stuff left on the table. The first real building block of fear was now beginning to establish a foundation inside Jenny, and at the rate it was beginning to increase it wouldn't be long before a reasonably sized four bedroom house was built.
'Clamps, please.' Agnes held her left hand out and waited for Hetty to place the twin devices in her palm. With her right hand she used her thumb and forefinger in a pincer grip to plump both of Jenny's nipples, until they were standing to attention. Using the tips of her nails she continued the pincer movement, elongating each nub further. 'For now you'll just wear individual clamps, which will exert enough pressure to keep your nipples erect at all times but won't actually cause too much discomfort, bar their tinkling bells, perhaps. Depending on your behaviour and your Master's whims, you may find these clamps tightened, have a chain threaded between them or weights attached. All you need to know for now is that clamps or no clamps, your nipples need to stand to attention at all times and that is usually managed by keeping you constantly aroused. Sometimes, if your libido proves difficult, the vet may give a shot of oxytocin to kick-start the process. When you have completed your training you may find that even when the clamps have been removed your nipples will remain in a permanently erect state. It is a trait which is highly-prized in a pony girl, so expect your teats to be worked over several times a day.'
Agnes positioned both clamps on the trainee's beautifully erect buttons and released them simultaneously. The bells tinkled prettily, but a wizened finger gave them an extra flick for good measure. Jenny groaned.
'Beautiful. I think we'll go with the arm-binder next, Hetty.'
An arm-binder? What on earth was one of those when it was at home? As all the action was going on behind her Jenny had no idea of what to expect. She felt the karabiner between her mittens being unclipped and each glove was slowly worked free, releasing two clammy hands sticky with sweat. Hetty pinned her arms to her body, whilst Agnes began to thread her hands through a sleeve of thick material. It had to be leather. It seemed to be the material of choice around here. The sleeve snaked over her wrists and elbows and continued until it reached the height of her biceps. Two straps at the top of the sleeve were then crisscrossed over her collarbone in halter-neck fashion and buckled over her shoulder blades. It was uncomfortable, like just about every other piece of equipment she had been forced to wear, and it immobilised her arms, fingers and thumbs until they were rendered completely useless. It appeared that ponies didn't use their hands very often.
'Oh! Look at that posture,' said Agnes, tilting her head to one side and examining her charge. She smiled at Jenny. 'You may not think so now, but you'll thank me later. That piece of leather will ensure that your shoulders remain elegantly high and pulled back. It will also make your breasts appear larger and thrust them forward for anyone who may care to sample their charms.' Agnes sniffed. 'I do love it when they start to take shape, Hetty.'
Hetty crossed her eyes and shook her head, knowing full well that her friend could not see her as her back was towards Jenny. She had just sorted through all the leather webbing their trainee was required to wear and wheeled the trolley out in front so they could get started.
The ladies picked up an armful of leather straps each and began fastening them around her body. They started with a diamond-shaped harness for her breasts, with four interconnecting straps, the middle of which featured a steel ring which was positioned over each areola and clamp. She couldn't help but shiver as the cold metal bit into her flesh, but her tormentors were not finished - not by a long shot.
Jenny soon lost count of how many straps were being attached to her. Some ran under her buttocks, pushing them up, and others encircled her thighs and arms. The most worrying was a short thick strap attached to a buckle at the front of her corset and run through several loops before it was strung underneath her. Jenny saw there were two steel rings in the middle of the strap. When the strap was tightened harshly around her nether regions she could feel the metal circles dig in at the entrance to both her pussy and ass. For now she could only wonder at their use, but suspected she wouldn't like it.
Agnes breathed a sigh of relief when the pile of tack had almost disappeared. 'I'll let you play with the insertables, dear.' She needn't have bothered speaking. Hetty had already begun to lubricate the slim butt-plug tail which came complete with sixteen inches of glossy black hair. Half of Jenny's tail had been made from her own hair, shorn the day previously, and the rest was real horsehair which had been expertly dyed to match.
'Bend her over, Aggie,' said Hetty, as she placed a plastic dildo beside the glistening wet plug.
Jenny felt the chains that had been tight around her collar loosened and something clipped to the bottom of her arm-binder. Judging by the rattling sound it was another chain, and as Agnes pulled on it her arms lifted high and she was forced to bend over at the waist until the slack on her neck chains tightened. She had been neatly manoeuvred into forming a ninety degree angle. The leather webbing began creaking and tightening painfully all over her body and the metal rings embedded themselves in her flesh.
Trying desperately to make as much noise as she could, because hitting, spitting, kicking and swearing were definitely out, all she came up with was a loud 'ahhhh' sound. Yes, that would scare their socks off, she thought. Jenny had reached the point where her trembling was such that her neck chains rattled. She couldn't help it; she knew exactly what was coming next. A long line of drool extended down from her lip and grew in length with each tremor of her body. She tried to free her tongue, in order to plead, beg or scream for mercy but the rectangular rubber pressing down on it was immovable. The butt-plug pressed for entry at her rear.
Hetty began to slowly pump it backwards and forwards and Jenny cried out in protest. She did not want to wear it! The bridle was bad enough, but the tail was far, far worse. But no one paid the slightest bit of attention to her. Slightly thicker than the flower plug she had just been wearing, the new tail began to slide in easily. Her body was already getting accustomed to being filled with their monstrosities, and by all accounts she was going to be stretched much further if some of the tails she'd seen yesterday had been any indication. No, she would be rescued. The turn her thoughts were taking was quite disturbing. When the hair on the end of the plug tickled her inner thighs she fought against the restraints that bound her, to no avail. This could not be happening. Things like this did not happen in the twenty-first century. They did not.