Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Riding Lessons 4

by Tar Feathers

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© Copyright 2014 - Tar Feathers - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-f; F/ff; D/s; stables; jodhpurs; lingerie; collar; les; wam; cakemix; pies; paint; tar; manure; buried; stuck; enslave; cons; X

story continues from part three

Part 4

My mind was reeling after I left the grooms flat the next day. We had cum so many times together, now I drove myself home, cleaner but with a slight tang of horse manure hanging in my nostrils, I was sure, as I visited the local supermarket that people noticed that I still smelled but I lived in a rural location and the scent of muck was familiar and just marked you as a local rather than a holidaying townie so I wore my mixed scent, the hint of female musk tangled with the remains of the muck heap as a badge of honour.

I slept well but my dreams were filled with my beautiful instructor, her long legs encased in the gossamer thin jodhpurs and her feet covered with black leather riding boots, and now Sarah, her love making had been hungry, animal like but always totally at the beck and call of Hilary, her mistress.

Hilary had explained her relationship, that she was her sub, she willingly gave herself up for Hilary, allowing her to control and protect her. This seemed, for Sarah a small price for the love and care she received, albeit was as often with the stern crack of a riding crop as with her lovers gentle kiss but both were received with complete desire and love.

It was only as she had explained her relationship that I grew deeply jealous of the closeness of what they had together, this was all so new to me but I wanted to be have the same protection from a strong woman, the thought of giving everything to Hilary was intoxicating. I had to have it. I had discussed it with Hilary, as Sarah had dozed at her feet I had pleaded to have the same relationship to become her sub. Hilary had smiled, warned me that I was rushing things and told me to take one step at a time.

But now as I sat at home, I knew that I could not just leave this. I certainly could not sleep and had to find out more. I started trawling the internet, learning more, finding out how I would show my total devotion. It was then that I discovered slave collars, a simple plain steel ring that I would wear around my neck, it could be engraved with a dom’s name or a slave number. I found myself wet at the idea of being collared by Hilary, showing my devotion. My mouse went almost without my command and I found myself ordering a simple plain band with subtle details engraved into the steel.


My next riding lesson was pretty uneventful, I spent so much of my time staring at Hilary with lustful eyes that my horse eventually ground to a halt.

“Concentrate!” Hilary snapped raising her riding crop. My horse flinched but it was me that truly felt the potential of the whip across my thigh.

“Yes miss...” I looked forward and rode around the school ensuring I did not upset my instructor. At the end she held my horse as I dismounted.

“You’re distracted, what is up?”

I smiled. “I have something to show you. Let me put Mille away.” Hilary followed as I untacked and brushed my horse down before carrying the saddle and bridle into the tack room. Hilary closed the door softly.

“Go on then?” Hilary put her hand on my shoulder. My body warmed at her touch. I reached down into my tack box, Hilary lightly stroked the seat of my jodhpurs as I reached into the plastic box. I sighed wishing to remain hers forever. “What is this?” Hilary opened the black box and took out the split hoop. She paused reading the message engraved into the steel. A smile played on her face.

Time seemed to stand still. I watched the change in her expression, I could see the palpable decisions being made as she touched the ring of steel. It felt like hours before she spoke.

“You wish to wear this for me?” I nodded. “Speak your assent.” Hilary’s tone turned hard.

“Yes...” I paused, searching for the correct response. “Miss. I want to be owned by you.” There was a flicker of a smile in Hilary’s eyes. “Please...” I added, it came out as a plea.

Hilary took a deep breath. “Okay.” She put the collar down. “But you need to understand what this means.” I tried to speak. Hilary raised a single finger which silenced me. “That is lesson one, you speak when I allow you. You always call me Mistress or Miss and you will always do what you are told or punishment will be swift and fitting of the crime you have committed.”

I nodded. Hilary picked up the collar again. “Do you realise that this collar has no key. Once I place it on you, it cannot be removed without cutting it.” My heart leapt, ‘once I place it on you’ this sounded as if she would make my dream come true and do this.


My world stopped dead. ‘No?’ – The word escaped my lips as a whisper.

“You are not ready for this.” Hilary placed the polished steel back in the box and snapped the lid shut. “I need you to prove that you are ready.”

I watched as she turned on her heal and silently left the room.


My tears eventually abated but only after Sarah had spent almost an hour comforting me. We talked late into the night and eventually we had a plan. Hilary wanted a sign of my readiness, Sarah and I planned the perfect way to demonstrate that I was.

Sarah and I spent some hours preparing, it was Hilary’s day off and she had decided to spend the day shopping, we had waved as her Land Rover had pulled away from the stables. We looked at each other and started to assemble our plans.

It was early evening when the sound of the Land Rover broke the silence of the yard. We heard the door close and soon Hilary was calling out across the yard.

“In here...” Sarah called out.

Hilary walked into the indoor arena, it was a barn laid out with a peat floor and high white walls lined with mirrors to allow you to see your riding position as you circled. We were standing in the centre of the arena, a point in dressage tests which would be called ‘X’ – so for us X marked the spot. Beside us were a collection of buckets and barrels. Hilary smiled as she approached us. I was dressed in my show jodhpurs again, brilliant white and matched with my shining black leather riding boots. I wore a tight white blouse. Sarah was dressed similarly we were the picture of perfect equestrians, however this picture would be spoiled all too soon.

We gestured to Hilary to sit in a chair which we had placed directly in front of us, but not so close that she would be spoiled by what was about to happen. She sat nervously.

“You wanted us to show how much we both wanted to give ourselves to you.” I spoke evenly. “So we are going to prove it.” I lifted a cover on a collection of pies and bowls on a table. “Miss. Please mess me up.”

Hilary smiled, standing she approached me, collecting a deep banana cream pie which she slapped slowly into my face. She took another and slid it down my head, I could feel the weight of the filling covering my hair and dripping down my back. Hilary stepped back taking two chocolate pies which she slapped onto my chest, my nipples hardened as the pie struck.

“Kneel.” I sunk to my knees looking up at my mistress. She took a bucket of thick chocolate cake batter and slowly poured the viscous mess down my face and chest. She topped this off with a bowl of honey which dripped lazily onto my shoulders and slid down my back.

Hilary stepped away and approached Sarah. “I guess you both planned this?” She opened her mouth to speak but any response was lost in the sudden slap of a chocolate pie in her face. This was quickly followed by a heavy pie sandwich. “So you think I want you messy? Is that it?”

Hilary dragged me to my feet. “Okay. I’ll play your game.” She pulled the front of my jodhpurs open and slid a bowl of broken eggs into my panties. I squired as they mingled with my juices. “Don’t move!” She snarled with an angry tone. “And if either of you cum...”

She turned to Sarah and pulling the seat of her jodhpurs out poured in a five litre container of thick black molasses. Her jodhpurs bulged and some of the black liquid started to ooze out. I looked on longingly. “Oh you want some do you?” It was matter of seconds for her to uncap another container and pour this into my open blouse and down my back.

We soon both received a full sticky treatment with buckets of molasses poured over our heads, the blackness soon countered by a sack full of flour shared between us.

Hilary ripped my blouse from my body exposing patches of bare skin and unsullied lingerie. She snapped my bra straps and filled each cup with a quantity of ice cold custard. Dragging off my boots she filled the left one with lumpy gravy and the second with baked beans before forcing them back on my feet, the lumpy liquids sprayed up my legs.

Soon Sarah was also standing in her underwear and boots, her jodhpurs ripped from her body with the help of scissors. “Is that all?” Hilary sneered. I shook my head and pulled the cover back from a table full of coloured paint. It was an artist’s palette laid out in ten litre cans. Hilary gasped, before regaining her composure.

She started an onslaught of colour, we were soon dripping with blue, white, red and green gloss paint, our bodies unrecognizable under the layers of paint which dripped from us. Eventually the supplies ran dry.

“Okay.” Hilary held up her hands. “I agree, you are pretty messy. Well done.”

I spat out a mouthful of paint. “Follow us.” We both started to walk from the arena to the back yard beside the muck heap. There was a paddling pool filled with black liquid. Hilary gasped as the acrid smell hit her nostrils.

“No!” She grabbed my hand. “No... You mustn’t!” She wailed. “I order you.”

“No... Miss” I said slowly. “This is the last command we will not obey.” We stood facing towards the pool filled to the very brim with liquid roofing tar. I glanced at Sarah, I think she winked, but under the paint it was hard to tell. Hilary froze as we both leaned forward and fell into the thick tar. It swallowed us hungrily. Hilary rushed forward as our bodies disappeared beneath the surface. It was impossible for us to hear her cries even when we surfaced. Our bodies were now nothing but shiny black statues. I pushed Sarah and we playfully wrestled. Hilary stood at the edge. Soon enough we stepped out and waddled beneath the tar to a tarp placed on the yard. There was a rope attached to a post and a tractor parked behind us. Sarah and I knelt facing each other and embraced. As we clung together the tar stuck us together as single blob.

“Pull the rope...” I yelled. Hilary untied the rope looking as it led back to the cab of the tractor. I nodded beneath the tar. She suddenly realised what would happen as she saw the tractor bucket above us .

She gently pulled the rope, this pulled the lever in the cab which tipped the tractor bucket and a slow flow of woodchip based horse manure poured onto us. Soon there was just a pile of steaming manure with two blobs above the surface.

Hilary dropped the rope and fell to her knees.


If I was brutally honest I had not thought how we would escape the tar prison and it took almost a day for Hilary to dig us out and then find solvents to allow us to break free from our clutches. By this time however one thing was clear, Sarah and I were now sisters and, our mistress, despite her anger at the efforts she had to put in to set up free was so massively impressed that she could not doubt our integrity to be her subs.

It was two days later that Sarah and I knelt before her, heads bowed. Hilary reached down, placing the collar around my neck, she looked into my eyes as she started to close the loop. I looked away from her glance nodding slightly as the ring sealed as firmly as my fate.

Sarah was next, it seemed only fair that she should also have a collar so Mistress had been kind and ordered her one for herself. The sharp click of the steel lock made my heart jump, its weight around my neck there as a reminder of the message it contained.

I am the property of Hilary Knox – I give myself freely and forever to her love and protection.

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