© Copyright 2010 - S M Ackerman - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; caught; M/f; leather; ponygirl; bit; harness; bond; bdsm; chast; outdoors; brand; reluct/cons; X
This is my weekend, my bondage weekend, my self-punishment weekend, and its only Sunday morning, I still have all day Sunday remaining to suffer through and now I have to make a decision one that could effect my life considerably, before my bondage punishment can end.
I grew up on a farm with a slightly shabby looking farmhouse in which I and my parents live. I am an only child, and somewhat of a loner, mostly I suppose because there is no one around to be mixing with, well not that I know, and I think I know everyone for miles. Mostly they are old boring adults, with busy normal lives, and no understanding of a (now) nineteen year old girls needs or interests, not that I would tell any of them of my interests, that would be just to embarrassing for words.
At eighteen (and still a virgin) I went off to university, having had a slight taste of the things I will become very interested in, like self bondage, discipline and punishment, as well as some risk taking. Now at nineteen I am home for a few weeks, and this weekend my parents have left me in charge of the farm, as they have taken some of dad’s prized Hereford cattle off to a major farming show. All I have to do is feed mom’s chickens, and the pigs, and old Frank will see to the cows twice a day as he always does.
For more detail than this, please read the first three stories posted, called ‘A Farm Girl self-punished parts 1,2 & 3.’ By S M Ackerman (2010).
‘Now then, there is the little matter of what I am going to do with you,’ old Frank had said, but then had come the threat, then he presented me with my choice.
‘This evening’ he stated in quite a relaxed easy going manner. ‘I will return and we will see if you want to play at being my pony, and take what is due to you from me, or if you prefer to remain in this position overnight? I think your parents are returning about lunchtime tomorrow. I think you will prefer to be compliant to me, rather than to remain here like you are for them to discover, but that is up to you girl, you think about it and decided!’ That was it, that was my situation, and that was all he said to me.
Old Frank walked away from me then, leaving me in my no longer self-inflicted bondage, and with my choice to make! My initial reaction is ‘damn the man’ but then I realise that all he has to do to make my life hell is leave me alone.
I picture myself naked and shackled between the stays of this my mother’s carriage, with him holding the whip over me, driving me around the farm. I have no real choice obviously, the thought of being discovered in the position I am currently in, which is secured at the waist with a metal hoop padlocked tight shut, bent forward at the waist over the back of a trapping carriage, stark naked, blind folded and gagged, with my hands handcuffed to the front of the carriage, my mothers carriage apparently!
My legs stretched wide with rope securing me in this position, tied tight around my ankles, displaying my all for them to see when they return, and all obviously done by my own hand, as my ice block will have melted over there where Frank threw it, revealing the keys to my confinement.
Also I would have to explain the six, two inch wide strap marks across my naked arse and thighs. None of the above is appealing, where as being shackled and harnessed between the shafts of this carriage, and being driven by old Frank around the farm, could, well is! Interesting to me as my drenched sex could prove.
What in fact old Frank will have in store for me to suffer through, I do not know. But he has already said that he is disgusted with me for various reasons, and he has already thrashed my butt with his belt. I can’t see him going light on me now, no matter what I offer to do for him.
Accepting his ‘generous blackmail’ seems to be my only answer to this my situation, if I am to have any hope of getting myself out of this my predicament. Accepting, clearly means submitting to anything he decides to do with or to me!
The more I think about my limited choice, the more I come to realise that whether he knows it or not, old Frank is providing me with a chance at something I have been attempting to provide for myself! I.e. real discipline, with very tight subjective bondage, and now possibly as an addition to my desires, genuine corporal punishment as well, because I am certain that old Frank will want to take full advantage of his control over me.
The sun reaches its zenith and I am still bound, unable to move and suffering in my bondage beneath its heat, whilst waiting to meet my fate at old Franks hands. Salty sweat stings my face and makes me feel all the more humbled and helpless, time drags, my bonds chaff as salt builds up around them. The metal strap across my back has gotten very hot and I am so desperate for relief from its touch, that I try to crush my stomach into the wooden back of the carriage. All in all my bondage is taking its toll. I listen, desperate to hear old Frank returning, hoping to be set free, no matter what the cost for my freedom might be!
The sun passes over its zenith, much too slowly for me. Cramps hit my calves and I twitch and turn trying to relive myself of the agony, and failing badly! My back feels as though it has been set on fire, thank god I thought to coat it liberally with sun-block. My gag seems to me to have swollen and filled every part of my mouth, I know it is only an illusion and the effect is caused by the heat drying my mouth out, and the lack of water. I am beginning to feel the first effects of dehydration. My sweating stopped by mid-afternoon, which only confirms my worst fears! I need to drink, and still there is no sign or sound of old Frank returning.
I have given up my futile attempts to ease my pain, and accepted my fate fully, and now all I can do is allow the day to pass in a series of day dreams, each more detailed and arousing than the previous. I know and have accepted that to remain bound like this through the night, and into the next day is just not possible! I know that when Frank returns and asks me what I have decided, I will nod and grunt my acceptance in the only way a bound and gagged female can. I just hope that he frees me and allows me to drink, prior to using me as he will!
I am deep in one such day-dream when the sound of cows eager to be milked, drags me back to the torment of my day. Old Frank is driving the heard to the sheds, I hope he comes to deal with me as soon as he can because I am now desperately thirsty, and willing to do anything, no matter what, to earn myself a reprieve!
What a slut I have turned into, all it has taken is a few hours of cooking under a hot sun, some few simple bondage items, and some less than subtle blackmail, to make me willing to give my body to someone I would never normally look at twice! Let alone accept as my Master, with all the consequences to me that my submission entails.
“Now that’s what I call a wondrous sight!”
Frank is standing behind me, for all my listening I had not heard him approach.
“You look like you could do with something to drink girl, so I brought you a special treat!”
He walked around to the front of the carriage and shortly I felt my ball- gag being un-buckled. The agony flares in my jaws as his calloused fingers pull at the restraint. It pops out of my mouth and finally, for the first time in hours, I can close my aching jaws! I try to speak, to beg for water but all that comes out of my mouth is a hoarse whisper more of a grunt really.
“You be silent girl and suck on this for a while, you will be able to do all the talking you want soon, but for now you stay there as I have cows to deal with!”
I feel a thin rubber tube placed gently inside of my mouth, I bite down and suck on it, and luxury, I feel the first drops of cool water filling my mouth, teasing my throat, and coating my desperately dry tongue. Which somehow seemed to me to be sucking up all of the little amount of water I have so far received.
Old Frank left again, this time I hear him go, I hear the grass being crushing beneath his work boots, I feel the single swat of his hand to my bottom, and then I am alone once more. Still bound tight to this carriage, still blind folded, but now thankfully, able to drink. After a while I notice that the water has a salty taste to it, they say that when you need the salts you can’t taste them, but when you have enough, you can! Now after drinking little and often through the tube, I can begin to taste the salt that Frank has thoughtfully added to the bottle of water he gave to me.
I suck on the tube again, and again I taste salt, I am beginning to feel more alert, more with it! Frank I know will soon return, but probably not before he has driven the cattle back to the gate field. Now my brain is working properly again I reconsider my position, but still I see no option or for that matter, neither do I have any desire to change any of the decisions I have already made!
I am a bondage slut, I need and want punishing, I love to be bound gagged and humiliated! I love the feeling of being helpless and subjected, and now I know that I also quite like the effects of having my bottom soundly thrashed as well! Now for the very first time in my life I have met a man that is not only willing to give me all that I desire, but one who knows exactly how to take control of me, and is quite able to, and very effectively as well! Aren’t I a very lucky, perverted, young lady. What bliss!
I heard the cows being returned to their field and shortly a slightly out of breath Frank returns to my side. He takes away my drinking tube, having first pinched the flesh of my right hand and been satisfied that I am suitable re-hydrated.
“Well what’s it to be, do you stay here or do you submit and suffer the consequences?”
I have spent some time thinking of how best to answer this question when Frank finally asks it. A simple yes or no, or do I say please or thank you, instead I decide on something that would say it all, some thing that will tell Frank clearly, exactly, what he can do with or to me, so I respond to his question.
“Master I am your slave, you do not need my answer or permission to any question, your will is mine to obey!”
I just wish that I could have seen his face whilst I say what I do. He pats my cheek, which is all the approval I need.
Damn it he walked away from me again and out of mum’s garden! Have I offended him, is he going to leave me here for my parents to discover tomorrow? I call out, but don’t get a reply, he is gone, and I am still captive. What have I done, how have I offended him? O’shit now what?
My heart races with fear as my adrenaline kicks in again. I Struggle, still pointlessly against my bonds, achieving only scraped flesh around my wrists and ankles for my effort! Frank is gone, and I am helpless! I want to scream out, to beg him to return, to offer him my all if only he will return. I do none of these things! I remained silent and try to keep my feelings under some sort of control. Soon my silence is rewarded, as Frank returns, carrying a wooden box and a black bag, which he places on the ground a few feet in front of me, I will see it all, once he removes my blindfold.
His fingers reached around my head and removed my blindfold, so now I can see again, and as a bonus the early evening light is not to harsh on my eyes either, so no squinting, which always screws up my face and is not very sexy.
There is no front board (to keep the weight down I suppose) fitted to this carriage, only a foot bar. I can see old Frank in front of me opening the wooden box he has carried from somewhere. Obviously he intends me to see its contents, but what they might be I haven’t a clue. When he pulls a garment out of the box I am stunned, not only by the beautiful workmanship of the garment or even by the fact that it is quite small, but by the fact that it is made of black, shiny, highly polished latex.
He lays it out on the ground, next he removes a pair of the strangest looking boots I have ever seen! They are very high stilettos (five inches or so) but they taper to a wide sturdy looking heel and where the toes should be, they have metal shod hooves, just like a horses! Laces run all the way from the heel to the top of the boot, these can and are obviously meant to be tightened up very tightly, and should offer the wearer a lot of ankle and calf support!
“What size shoe do you take girl?”
“Five Sir.” I reply. He looked at the boots sole and says. “Damn it these are a six!”
“They will fit me Sir” I call to him. “I just need to pad them out a bit to make them comfortable.” I add, desperate to wear those boots and saddened by the obvious disappointment on his face when he discovered that the size is wrong for me.
He smiles now and for the first time I have seen in ages, his smile, like the rest of him is a bit rough around the edges, but in its own way it is quite nice, and with him holding what he is, and me bound as I am, his smile is perfect, and if he but knew it, my sex is responding perfectly to both stimulations. If I am not careful I will soon have my juices rolling down my inner thighs in a way that he can not miss easily.
Next he pulls out what is clearly a head piece or bridle, but what a head piece! There are plumes of horse hair all tightly bound with bows, which when the worn will sit like a Mohican hair cut and trail out behind the wearer as they run. The leather bridles straps incorporate a gag plate with a thick rubber insert for the mouth. Fitted to the straps is a pair of leather ovals protruding forward, blinkers for the eyes I realise. The wearer will only be able to see forward, all peripheral sight is taken away by the flaps. This will mean that the wearer will really have to trust whoever is driving them forward completely.
Lastly he removes what looks like a wide leather belt, as he turns it in the air examining it, I see the twin evil spikes of rubber sticking up and fitted to a leather pad, then strapped to the belt, I recognise this device as I have similar item, it is a chastity belt one with dildoe’s fitted. This one has a single hasp and lock to secure it around the female frame. He places it down reverently next to the increasing, neat display of equine bondage equipment. Bondage equipment that is all designed for a woman who is to become a pony-girl to wear. I have seen pictures on the net of these women, but never expected to experience the pleasure of becoming a pony-girl myself.
It is at this point that I realise that all of the gear in front of me is my mothers, and that she has worn it all at one time or another, and now it is my turn. I wonder what she would say if she were to find out?
Frank releases me from my self-imposed bondage and has me stand in front of him, whilst he tacks me up, starting with my head. The bridle affair with its hair and bow decorations fits around my head quite easily. The rubber gag slots into my mouth and effectively depresses my tongue, gagging me very effectively. The straps tighten the blinkers into place, just as I had thought; they restrict my ability to see anything to the side.
Next he straps the chastity belt around my waist, he pinches my inner thigh to encourage me to part my legs, I comply. I feel his calloused hands gently easing the first dildo into my anus, I relax trying to help, and also to lessen the pain as the butt plug part pushes against my sphincter. It enters with a quick gulp inducing push from Frank.
Next he slips the vaginal dildo inside of me (no resistance there) I nearly come on the spot! For the first time in my life I have a man binding me, and whatever he wishes to do to me he can and will, and I have no other choice but accept his use of me, and him as my Master.
This time I do come, and Frank grasps my shoulders and pulls me against his chest, holding me tight as wave after wave of all encompassing delight ploughs throughout my body, all emanating from my sex.
Soon he sends me off to fetch a pair of socks from my bedroom. I can tell you that it is quite strange to walk naked and with restricted sight into my home. I now have to turn my head to see wherever I want to look. I soon get used to the feeling and am back standing in front of Frank holding a pair of thick long socks in no time at all.
I pull on my socks whilst leaning against the carriage, and then sitting on the ground before him, I pull on each of the strange boots. Standing up with them on but not laced is quite an achievement, but I succeed. Frank orders me to turn around and then he kneels behind me and pulls each part of the boots lacing tight, and knots them off. Now the boots feel as though they are a part of me. I feel his fingers tracing my strap lines across my bottom, enjoying (I think) the fact that he put them there, then he is standing again and turning me by my shoulders towards him.
He leads me between the shafts of the carriage and tells me to crouch and then to grip both shafts, then to stand. I do and the carriage rocks back on its wheels, it is light, I know this because I have already moved it from the barn to here, but how light is amazing. The design is perfect, this carriage was built to be pulled by a woman, and this realisation hits my guts, it was built for my mum to pull my dad around the farm, with her dressed pretty much as I am now, after all I am wearing her clothes and restraints, which feels very funny in a most strange way.
The bag Frank brought out with him contains nothing but leather tack, which he quickly affixes to the carriage. One piece is a shoulder web with D ring fittings, and lots of buckles. Frank fits it around my upper body and tightens each strap, then he returns his attention to binding me to the carriage. I let go of the shafts as he instructs and they now hang perfectly from the spider’s web of leather straps. The shafts now protrude out level with my hips, I lean slightly into my harness and feel the carriage easily respond by rocking very slightly forward.
My hooves dig in to the grass easily, feeling both reassuringly stable and sure footed. I can pull this contraption and without the use of my hands to hold the wood shafts, which is a good thing as Frank folds my arms behind my back and secures then at my wrists, and on both side of my elbows.
Lastly he picks up a very long coiled up length of leather, about half an inch thick and with metal clips at each end of it. These he affixes to my head harness, right by my cheeks to two separate D rings. The reins are now in place and everything is ready for Frank to have his drive.
His pony, his nearly naked pony is chaffing at the bit (gag), eager to be driven hard and to please her new owner! He leads me out of the garden, walking by my side, the carriage rolls perfectly on well greased axels, and I walk easily in my boots and feel safe in my restraints.
Frank says ‘stay’, and then disappears into the barn for a second, he returns with a very long trapping whip and then mounts the carriage. I feel his weight but it soon evens out as he sits on the board seat, now we are ready to go trapping I think, bubbling with excitement at the prospect. I have no idea where he will drive me, or what he will do with me, and I don’t care, just so long as he releases me before my parent return, and makes sure to use me thoroughly in anyway he desires! The whip flicks against my bottom and I walk forward, guided by the reins in Frank’s hands.
I finally get to bed at eleven pm that Sunday night, Frank drove and used me hard, and I loved every single second of what he did with me. He didn’t actually screw me, but I was made to give him a blow job just to end the evening (he is well hung if you need to know). He did thrash me again, but not until I had begged him to, and with that long whip and later some flexible tree branches he cut for the job!
Anyway that is nearly all of the story of my exciting self-bondage and self-punishment weekend, other than one little thing!
I wake at ten the next morning (Monday), my parents will be home around one pm or so they said when they left. I feel wonderful but very sore and abused, but very very sated, and I am eager to fulfil my last promise to Frank, which is to return for more abuse and as soon as is practicable. What that will consist of I don’t know, because unless my parents go away again the trap etc, is out of bounds. But I think Frank has a few ideas, so I will just have to wait and see won’t I.
It is once I had showered and am standing naked in the bathroom admiring my bruises that I see for the first time the brand that Frank has given to me! I half turn to look at my back, and there plain to see is written in sunburn across my back the words, ‘Frank’s Bondage slut’!
I remembered Frank running his fingernails over my back when he first discovered me bound to the carriage, now I understand why! I will have to be very careful to keep my back covered at all times as this is not going to fade very quickly. I looked again and smile, devious bastard, I won’t be sleeping with anyone for a long time, if I don’t want them to know what and who’s bondage slut I am!
He, Frank, will be getting his own way, he has to now or I won’t be getting anything at all! After all, who else can I let see my deepest fantasies and my brand but old Frank…