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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Jessie & Chelsea: THE  ADVENTURES  OF Shorty & the Cowgirl ———————————————————— by Van © 2002
		Chapter 3

MASTER BEDROOM SUITE
COPPERHEAD CANYON LODGE
ARIZONA, USA

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Chelsea Brightman stretched and yawned... then lifted her sleepy head from the rumpled sheets of the king-size bed.  She was alone, in the bed... and in the bedroom suite... (apparently)... and she was totally, completely free!  The short, naked blonde rolled to the side and gazed down at the floor, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.  The stainless steel chain set, with its heavy collar, manacles, belt, and shackles, the very chains she had worn the previous evening, were lying in a gleaming heap where they had fallen after being unlocked from Chelsea's limbs and torso and discarded... after the mildly taxing trip up from the canyon floor (hunched over by the short, restrictive, connecting chains and struggling to keep the demanding pace set by her captor and lover up the seemingly countless stone and tile steps to the bedroom suite)... after multiple, glorious rounds of lovemaking (both giving and receiving)...  after Jessie unlocked the heavy steel restraints one-by-one (and let them slither and clatter to the floor).

Chelsea yawned again... then sat up and swung her legs off the bed... stood... stretched her short, naked body full length... and smiled.  Hmm... she mused.  She unlocked the chains, and set me free.  That hardly constitutes an 'escape.'  Am I technically in charge now?  Hmm... certainly not.  Chelsea padded to the master bath, answered the call of nature, then took a quick shower.  Toweling herself dry she stepped back into the bedroom.  Clothes, she pondered.  Deciding against wearing any of her hostess' oversize wardrobe, the diminutive Brit pattered out the bedroom door and down the hallway towards her own suite.  She tried the door, and was surprised to find it locked!

Just then the puzzled pixie heard footsteps, turned, and found Teri emerging from a side hall.  The Director of the Copperhead Canyon Archeological Institute was dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and a Western blouse.  She smiled when she saw Chelsea (and blushed).  "Uh, good morning."

Only slightly embarrassed to be caught wandering the halls of Copperhead Lodge in the nude, Chelsea smiled back.  "Good morning, Doctor.  Uh... I seem to be locked out... and am wanting my clothes."

Teri laughed.  "So I see," she purred, drinking in the sight of the tan, toned, freckled pixie.  Jess, you lucky dog! she mused.

Still smiling, Chelsea lowered her eyes shyly.  "I... I'm sorry if I went too far yesterday," she stammered.  "During the 'escapology lesson?'  ...when we first met?"

Teri laughed again, pulled the short Brit into a friendly embrace and kissed her lips.  "I know you were just playing.  I know now, anyway.  Delores told me."

Chelsea smiled up at the taller, slightly older brunette.  "You aren't angry?" she whispered, batting her big blue eyes.

Teri kissed Chelsea again.  "You are a terrible little flirt, just like Jess said.  You can give me an escapology lesson any time, Ms. Brightman... and maybe I'll give you one some time, okay?"

Chelsea giggled.  "It's good to learn by doing."

Before Teri could answer, Delores came bounding up the stairs.  The stunning Latina was dressed in her usual Maid's attire, and had a warm (if slightly feral) smile on her face.  "Bueno!  Hold her for me, would you please, Doctor?  I have been sent to fetch her for the Mistress."

"Hold her?" Teri asked.  Chelsea was a little quicker on the uptake, and started to pull away from the Director's embrace.  She was quick, but not quick enough.  Teri grabbed the wiggling pixie in a tight hold, hooked one arm through her elbows as she spun her around, and used the other arm to hold the struggling Brit close against her body.  "Settle down," she ordered, resting her face against Chelsea's blonde mop.  "You aren't going anywhere."

Chelsea continued squirming (without really trying to extricate herself) and giggled as Delores approached.  "Buenos días, Delores," she said brightly.

Delores' smile broadened.  "Buenos días, Little One," she purred, reached into the pocket of her apron, and produced a long, coiled, rawhide thong, not of the stiff, rounded boot lace variety, but more a soft, pliant, narrow ribbon of chamois.  "Turn the Señorita around, please" she asked Teri, "and hold her.  Mistress says she is a wiggler."

Teri released Chelsea's elbows, spun her around, and held the grinning munchkin by her upper arms.  The pair locked eyes as Delores advanced, crossed Chelsea's wrists behind her back, and set to work.

"So..." the short captive purred, her gaze still on Teri's smiling face, "did you and Delores have fun last night?"

Teri blushed, but her grip on Chelsea's arms didn't falter.  "You're a brazen little thing, aren't you?" she muttered.  "Yes... we had fun..."  Her eyes lifted to Delores.  "Didn't we, Delores?"

Delores laughed.  "Very much so, Doctor."

Teri's gaze dropped back to Chelsea's.  "How 'bout you and... The Mistress?"

Chelsea giggled.  "Oh yes!  We had a—ahh!—a grand time." 

Delores had encircled Chelsea's waist with a band of rawhide, then taken a tight hitch through the fidgeting blonde's crotch.  "There," Delores said as she tied the thong off to her prisoner's wrist bonds, "I think you will not be wiggling out of Delores' knots, eh?"

Chelsea tugged on her bonds.  With her crossed and bound wrists pinned to the small of her back by a flesh-dimpling waist and crotch thong, "wiggling" was indeed a futile activity.  "She's good, isn't she?" the grinning captive asked Teri.

The brunette only smiled and shook her head.  "Flirt!" she accused.

"Why does everyone call me that?" Chelsea demanded.  "All I said was—m'mmpfh!"

Delores had dropped a folded bandana over Chelsea's head, pulled it between the prisoner's teeth, and was knotting it tight behind the mewing blonde's neck.

Teri released her hold.  "Well... I'll be down at breakfast," she announced, smiled, and bounced down the stairs.

Chelsea and Delores watched her go... then Delores abruptly grabbed the short Brit by her tousled  blonde mop and hustled her back down the hall towards the master bedroom.  "You come with me, Señorita," she hissed.  Delores opened the bedroom door and dragged her captive inside, then pulled the door closed behind them.  "Now we have a little privacy," the grinning maid whispered.  She pushed Chelsea back against one of the plastered adobe walls, leaned close and locked eyes with her prisoner... and the Latina's smile faded.

Chelsea squirmed her arms and rump against the rough wall, and swallowed nervously behind her gag.

"We not be so funny for a while, okay, chica?"  Delores' hands roamed over Chelsea's breasts, tummy, and sex.  The helpless Brit shuddered and mewed through her gag.  "Good.  I want you in the mood to listen to Delores.  Are you ready to listen, Little Flirt?"  Chelsea slowly nodded... then gasped when Delores' right index finger slid into her sex, under the rawhide crotch thong, and pressed against her clit.  "When Little Fox came to live here, I was about your age, and Jessie was a child.  We have been friends for a very long time... have been through very much together... and I love her deeply, you understand?"  Chelsea squirmed and shuddered.  "Like she was one of my sisters I love her," Delores amended.  Chelsea gasped again when the finger pressing against her clit began to slowly, gently move.  "Do you love my Jessie, Little Flirt?"  Shuddering and struggling against her bonds, Chelsea nodded.  "Do you really love her?" the maid asked, her other hand gently straightening Chelsea's tangled hair. 

Chelsea nodded again, then gasped .  One hand was now gripping her hair, the other had captured her clit in a business-like pinch, her fingers arched over the narrow chamois ribbon of the crotch thong and gripping from both sides.

"You aren't lying to Delores, are you Little Flirt?"

Chelsea tried to shake her head, and mewed through her gag.

"Delores would be very cruel to one who broke the heart of her Little Fox... very cruel.  We understand each other, no?" 

Chelsea nodded, and Delores released her pinching hold on the shuddering, squirming captive's intimate nubbin.  The helpless captive watched as her captor walked to one of Jessie's chest of drawers, opened a drawer, and pulled out a neatly folded scarf.  "Step away from the wall, turn around, and stand with the feet apart."  Chelsea blinked and stared at Delores.  "Do it now, Little Flirt!" the maid barked. 

The prisoner could see the reassuring hint of a twinkle in Delores eyes.  Her captor wasn't as hard as she was pretending to be (Chelsea hoped).  The naked, bound, and gagged pixie spun on her heels and stood as ordered... then all went black as the now narrowly folded scarf was tied across her eyes.  She flinched when Delores untied and tightened her gag.

"On your knees," the maid ordered, "cross your ankles and grab your heels with your hands."  Her captor's hands guiding her, Chelsea sank to the floor and struggled to comply.  It was difficult, bound as she was.  "Is very awkward, I know," Delores cooed.  "Knees apart!" she barked.  "Chin up!"

Chelsea felt the maid's warm breath on her neck as her captor leaned close.

"I was once tied in this position," Delores whispered in Chelsea's left ear, "with the leather around my ankles and thighs as well..."  Chelsea quivered as Delores' hands lightly traced the described bondage across the helpless Brit's nude skin.  "...and around my elbows and across the throat..."  The captive flinched as her nipples were seized and lightly pinched.  "...and my nipple rings... Did you know I have nipple rings, Little Flirt?"  Chelsea shook her gagged and blindfolded head.  "My nipple rings," Delores continued, "were tied to a ceiling ring by more of the leather... and all of it was wet and tight, and as it dried and shrank, Delores was very unhappy... very unhappy indeed."  The Mexican beauty leaned close and lightly kissed Chelsea's now erect nipples, first the left... then the right.  "Be still and hold up your head and be brave for me, Little Flirt.  I have work to do."

Chelsea shivered in her bonds, but was otherwise still, obeying her unseen captor.  She heard the incidental sounds of the lovely (friendly, menacing) maid moving around the suite, stripping the sheets from the bed, gathering dirty towels from the bath, and placing everything in a heap beside the door... beside her helpless, nude prisoner.  Who would do that to her? Chelsea wondered. Who would tie Delores in that way?  Not my Jessie!  Not Cowgirl!

And then Delores was back at Chelsea's side, pulling her to her feet.  "I put a scare in you... but not too much, eh Señorita?" Delores purred as she checked the gag and blindfold knots... and Chelsea shook her blinded and silenced head.  "Good."  Her right hand half-gripping the knot of the blindfold and half-entangled in Chelsea's tousled locks, Delores opened the bedroom door and dragged her captive out into the hallway and towards the stairs.  "Remember what I have told you, Little Flirt," she muttered.  "Now... I fix you a nice breakfast."

Jessie set her dirty plate in the dishwasher and poured herself a refill of coffee.  Teri was still at the table, shoveling scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in a week.  Jessie sat in a chair and watched the older brunette eat.

Teri paused to shake some green Tabasco sauce on her eggs, and noticed her hostess, employer, and student's rather sardonic grin.  "What?" she asked.

Jessie sipped her coffee before answering.  "Worked up quite an appetite last night, did we?"

Teri blushed.  "At some point curiosity becomes nosiness," she muttered and devoured more eggs.

Jessie chuckled and took another sip from her mug.  Just then Delores arrived, with her bound, gagged, blindfolded, and naked prisoner.  Chelsea was hustled into a chair; her ankles crossed, bound, lifted off the floor, and tied to the chair's back legs; and more rope stretched across her lap and around her waist and the chair.  The diminutive Brit squirmed in her bonds and sent mewing complaints past her gag.

Jessie grinned at Delores, passed two fingers across her eyes (mimicking an imaginary blindfold), and gave the smiling maid a "thumbs up."  Delores smiled, and on her way from the table to the stove, paused and exchanged a quick kiss with her employer, then turned and blew a kiss to Teri (who blushed again, and continued eating).  Jessie managed to catch both sets of eyes in the room not blindfolded, pointed to Chelsea, then to herself and Teri, then pressed her right index finger to her lips and shook her head.  Teri stifled a laugh, and nodded.  Delores rolled her eyes, stepped to the stove, and began stirring the contents of a simmering pot.  (Of course, Chelsea simply squirmed in her bonds, oblivious to the "conversation" around her.)

"I fix you some nice oatmeal, Señorita , Delores announced.  Chelsea mewed through her gag and shook her head.  Delores sighed (grinning at Jessie and Teri), stepped to the table, loosened Chelsea's gag and let it hang around the still blindfolded captive's neck.

"Thank you, Delores," the naked Brit said, "but if it's all the same, could I please have some scrambled eggs and toast... and either bacon or sausages?  Whichever is on hand.  And do you have some breakfast tea?  I like coffee, but tea more so."

"I fix tea for you, Señorita, " Delores purred as she returned to the stove, "but The Mistress has decreed you are to have the oatmeal.  It... how you say? ...sticks to the ribs?  Yes, it sticks to the ribs, and you have mucho work ahead of you today."

"Mucho work?" Chelsea asked.  "What do you mean by...?"  Her question incomplete, Chelsea cocked her blindfolded head.  "Who's there?" she demanded.  (Jessie and Teri smiled but said nothing.)  "I can hear you eating," Chelsea continued, "whoever you are."  (Still no response.)  "You know," the diminutive prisoner said, lifting her chin, "it's very rude to simply sit there and stare at people."

Teri finally finished her breakfast.  She stood, placed her plate and tableware in the dishwasher, then refilled her coffee mug.  "I apologize, Ms. Brightman," Teri said with a laugh, "but if you're going to traipse around in the nude, you should expect to be stared at, don't you think?"

Delores laughed and Chelsea blushed (much to Jessie's surprise.)  "I'm a helpless prisoner and have no say in the matter," the bound and blindfolded pixie huffed.

Teri laughed, then stepped to the table and gave Chelsea a kiss.  "I'll be in the Conservation Lab unpacking and calibrating the new microscope," she announced (waved silently at Jessie and Delores) and was out the door.

"Chicken salad for lunch!" Delores called after her.  The maid loaded a broad, flat plate with hot, stiff oatmeal and placed it in front of Chelsea.  "Your breakfast is ready, Señorita," she said.  "Es muy caliente, so blow on it a while before you eat, okay?"

Chelsea twisted in her bonds.  "Uh... you aren't going to feed me?"

"This is a working kitchen," Delores answered.  "I have tasks to perform which are much more importante.  The plate is right under your cute little button nose."

"Delores!" Chelsea whined, wrinkling the 'cute button nose' in question.

"Eat up every bit, Little Flirt," the grinning maid said, "or Delores punish."

Chelsea sighed, leaned forward, blew on the steaming plate as suggested, then cautiously made contact with her lips and tongue.  She sampled the oatmeal, then sat upright.  "It's plain," she complained.

"Oh, I am the terrible hostess," Delores exclaimed.  "I sprinkle a little brown sugar, okay?"

Chelsea licked her lips (and tried for the tip of her nose, which now sported a small glob of oatmeal.)  "Thank you," she sighed, squirming in her inescapable bonds.

Delores added the sugar as promised (smiling at Jessie, who continued silently sipping her coffee and enjoying her lover's plight).  "Try it now, Señorita."

Chelsea leaned forward and sampled the oatmeal.  "Thank you, Delores," she said, and continued eating, further making a mess of her face as she consumed her breakfast. 

Jessie smiled as she carefully (silently) nursed her coffee, and enjoyed the show.

By the time Chelsea had finished most of the oatmeal, Delores had boiled water and a pot of tea was steeping.  "Did I get it all?" the bound and blindfolded Brit asked.  "It's difficult to tell."

The Mexican maid smiled and winked at Jessie.  "Most of what is left is on your face, Little Flirt.  Would you like some more?"

"No, I'm quite full, thank you.  I just don't want to be 'punished' for not cleaning my plate," Chelsea explained, primly.

Delores laughed, then wet a clean kitchen cloth and stepped to the table.  "Your tea will be ready in a minute," she said, and began cleaning Chelsea's face.  "Such a grubby Little Flirt," the grinning Latina groused, rinsing the cloth and scrubbing her captive's face again.

Chelsea giggled and held her head still, to aid the process.  "Delores," she said softly.

"Yes, Little Flirt?" the smiling maid answered.

"Upstairs... when you asked me if I love Jessie?"

Delores glanced at Jessie, who blinked in surprise.  "Yes?" Delores responded.  "I remember."

"I love her..." Chelsea continued, "truly I do."

Delores smiled warmly at Jessie (who was blushing, furiously).  "I believe you, Little Flirt," she said, and kissed her prisoner's lips.  "My Little Fox is very lucky, I think."  (Now both the 'Little Fox' and the 'Little Flirt' were blushing.)  "I fix your tea.  Two lumps, no?"

"Yes, please," Chelsea said softly.

Delores poured the tea into a travel mug, added the sugar, gave it a stir, snapped the lid closed, and inserted an oversized straw.  "Is hot," she cautioned as she held the straw to Chelsea's lips.

The bound, blindfolded, and nude prisoner took a careful sip.  "Mmm... Super!  Thank you, Delores."

"You are most welcome, Señorita ," the maid purred, and set the mug on the table.  "The tea is right in front of you, yes?  And now, if the Señorita will excuse me, there is much laundry to do."  She kissed Chelsea's lips, silently waved at Jessie, and left the kitchen.

Chelsea turned her blindfolded head towards her captor's fading footsteps.  "Uh... Delores?  I'm to just wait here?  Delores...?"  The diminutive, helpless Brit sighed, leaned forward and carefully located her tea, took a sip... sat upright... and sighed again.  "As if I have any choice in the matter..." she muttered under her breath.

"So," Jessie said aloud.

Chelsea flinched in her bonds, so violently her chair scraped on the tiles of the kitchen floor.

"You love me, do you?" Jessie continued.

"You monster!" Chelsea complained.  "I almost had a coronary!  You've been here the whole time."

"Well, duh!" Jessie laughed.  "Answer the question."

Chelsea blushed, then shook her head and cleared her throat.  "Yes, I love you, Cowgirl," she answered flippantly.  "I also love marmalade on my toast, chicken vandaloo, and prosciutto and melon."

Jessie smiled.  "Yes, but do you love them... 'truly'?"

Chelsea continued blushing.  "It's not very kind to take advantage of my being tied up and blindfolded and—m'mmpfh!"

Jessie had left her chair and was giving her captive a deep, savage kiss.  The kiss lasted a long... time... and involved both the captor and captive's tongues.  Jessie broke the kiss.  "I love you too, Short Stuff," she said in a husky whisper, and returned to her short, helpless captive's lips.

Finally the kiss ended and Jessie began untying the ropes binding her lover to the chair.  "Drink your tea," she ordered.  "We got places to go."

Chelsea leaned forward and found her tea (Jessie pausing in her task to enjoy the sight of the blindfolded captive groping for the cup's straw with her tongue), then drank as ordered.  "Uh... Jessie?"

The smiling redhead continued untying the rope.  "Yeah?"

Chelsea swallowed a little nervously.  "Delores told me something... about being tied with wet leather... including her nipple rings!"

Jessie had finished freeing Chelsea from the chair and was coiling the rope.  "Yeah?"

"Uh... who... It wasn't...?"

Jessie's smile turned somewhat... sad.  "It wasn't me who did that to her, Shorty," she muttered, "if that's what yer tryin' to ask."

Chelsea said nothing, but turned her blindfolded face to "look" at her friend and captor.

"It's a very long story," Jessie mumbled, "and I ain't ready to tell it yet... okay?"

A wisp of a smile curled Chelsea's lips as she "gazed" up at Jessie.  "How deliciously mysterious, Cowgirl," she whispered.  "Okay... I'm firmly in control of my curiosity... for the present.  What now?"

Jessie hauled her prisoner from the chair, pulled her into a tight embrace, and kissed her again.  "It's gonna be a very hard day, Shorty.  Yer gonna be rode hard..." The tall redhead paused to kiss her captive's lips.  "...but I promise not to put you away wet."

"No nipple rings?" Chelsea purred.

Jessie laughed.  "Not today... and don't make suggestions you might regret."  She released her embrace of her short, blonde prisoner and picked up Chelsea's tea.  "Here, finish this off," she ordered, and held the straw to Chelsea's lips.

The captive took three slow pulls on the fat straw, then released it.  "That's enough, thank you," she said.

Jessie set the mug on the table, then fumbled with the bandana around Chelsea's neck.  The knot finally untied, she shook the folds from the cotton square, then balled it into a compact wad.  "Say ahh."

Chelsea sighed.  She could guess what was coming.  "Do you have to—m'mmpfh!"

"Of course I do," Jessie purred, cramming the cotton wad into her lover's mouth.  She then loosened the knot on Chelsea's blindfold and pulled the folded scarf down the prisoner's face, seated it over the wad and between Chelsea's teeth, gave the free ends of the scarf a savage jerk, and retied the knot.

Chelsea blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brightly lit kitchen, then watched as Jessie tied a slip knot in one end of the rope which she surmised had held her in her chair during breakfast.  Jessie dropped a noose over Chelsea's head and snugged the knot tight.  The captive swallowed behind her tight, effective gag.  The rope didn't interfere with her breathing in any way, but she could feel it.

A gloating smile on her freckled face, Jessie spun her prisoner around and inspected her rawhide bonds.  The crossed wrist, waist, and crotch tie was still tight and inescapable.  She gave Chelsea's right buttock a gentle caress... then a sharp slap.  The short, blonde Brit flinched, then growled in protest through her gag (the twinkle in her eyes belying her anger).  "Sassy and full of yourself," Jessie purred, pulling her captive into a tight embrace, "but you won't be so perky come sundown... not after what I have planned for you, Short Stuff."

Chelsea shuddered in her tight bonds and her lover's embrace as Jessie's hands caressed her breasts and tummy, and back, and firm, dimpled butt.  Captor and captive locked eyes, blue orbs staring into green, green into blue.  Do your worst, Chelsea thought.  I can take anything... as long as it's from you. 

Jessie kissed Chelsea's gagged lips.  "So..." she said, "ya really do love me?"

Chelsea smiled above her gag and nodded.

Jessie hugged her captive tight, her cheek nestled against Chelsea's tousled mop, the captive sighing contentedly and nuzzling her captor's neck.  "I love you too... like I've never loved anyone or anything before in my whole life."  The embrace continued for several very long seconds... and finally Jessie took a step back and grabbed hold of Chelsea's rope lead.  "C'mon," she said in a husky whisper, "time for me to be mean."

Chelsea sighed and followed her tall, redheaded captor from the kitchen towards the Lodge's central staircase.

Jessie led her prisoner down to the Canyon floor, past the pool and barbecue areas, and towards the stables.  It was still very early in the day, so most of canyon was in shadow.  They entered the stables themselves and the smell of horses and hay (and the product of the two) filled the air.

Chelsea could hear horses moving in their stalls, but could see little through the high bars of the stall doors and the morning gloom.  A skilled (but indifferent) rider, Chelsea had been impressed by Jessie's stables during yesterday's tour.  Copperhead Canyon Lodge boasted some impressive horseflesh (albeit more the shorter, working stock favored by Western Americans than the handsome Arabians found in Brightman Hall's stables).

They entered a side room of the main stables and Chelsea beheld a stool, bucket and scrub brush, a folded towel, and her own hiking boots.  There was also a broad, collar-size leather strap dangling from a chain stretched from wall to wall across the center of the room.  The naked, bound and gagged pixie was led to the chain, the rope lead was lifted from her head, and the collar buckled around her throat.  Jessie walked to the far wall, grinned, pulled the slack from the chain, and clipped it taut.  Chelsea tossed her head and mewed through her gag, but had no choice but to stand in the center of the room, pinioned in place by the gleaming steel links.

Jessie walked over (an infuriatingly gloating smile on her freckled face) and moved the bucket, brush, stool, and towel close to her captive.  "Easy girl," she cooed, clicking her tongue.  "Settle down.  You've had your morning oats.  Now let's see about getting you shod."

Chelsea growled behind her gag (smiling, nonetheless), and lifted her left foot to kick her captor.  Quick as lightning Jessie seized Chelsea's ankle and held her foot.  Chelsea mewed in distress and hopped awkwardly on her right foot.  Still holding her captive's ankle Jessie caressed Chelsea's left breast, then seized the erect nipple.  "Settle down... settle down..." she whispered, "or I'll have to get a riding crop and teach you some manners."  Holding ankle and nipple, the tall redhead leaned close and kissed her blonde prisoner's gagged lips.  "I'll give you an apple slice later... if you're good."

Chelsea shuddered in her bonds, teetering on her right foot as she fought to keep her balance, then shook her head and glared at her captor. 

Jessie chuckled.  "I like a pony with spirit," she said, then sat on the stool, maintaining her hold on Chelsea's left ankle.  She was positioned to the side (ready to brace her prisoner, should she lose her balance.)  Chelsea heard sloshing water, then gasped when the wet, cold, soapy brush rasped over her left sole, heel, toes, and upper foot.  The foot bath was soon over and the towel used to dry the appendage in question.  Next came foot powder; a thin, skintight sock of synthetic material, a thick, wool blend hiking sock, and lastly, Chelsea's left boot.  Jessie stood, set Chelsea's left foot on the stool, laced the boot tight, tied a bow, and secured the long, doubled laces with an overhand knot.  The stool was moved to Chelsea's right flank, and her right foot received identical treatment.

Jessie moved the stool, bucket, towel, and foot powder against one of the walls (and away from her "pony's" feet), then ducked under the chain and embraced Chelsea from behind.  "Such a good pony," she cooed.  Chelsea tossed her head, her nostrils flaring above her gag.  "Remember when you used me as a pack pony on Gondaloo?" Jessie asked, her hands wandering over Chelsea's breasts, tummy and rawhide thong-divided sex.  "Well... now it's your turn, Shorty... and I have all the tack required to do the job right.  No improvisation required."  Chelsea squirmed in her bonds (and her lover's embrace) and groped Jessie's jeans-clad loins with her fluttering fingers.  Jessie laughed and released her hold.  "Bad pony," she scolded.  "No apple for you today."

Chelsea mewed and shook her head, stamping her booted feet on the concrete floor as Jessie walked towards the door.  The tall redhead turned in the open doorway and gazed back at her captive.  "I'll be back," she promised... and was gone, her footfalls echoing and fading deeper into the stables.

Chelsea sighed and twisted her wrist bonds, but not too strongly.  The crotch thong was tight.  Ponygirl, huh? she mused.  'All the tack required,' huh?  It looks like it's going to be a loooong day.  The captive's boots scuffed the concrete floor and her neck chain jingled as she shuffled in place, testing her inescapable bonds.  Despite having had her 'morning oats', Chelsea had a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She sensed she was in for a trial, and prayed she was up to the challenge.

In only a few minutes, Jessie returned, lugging a canvas duffle.  She dropped it at Chelsea's feet and the contents of the brown leather and tan cloth bag jingled softly.  The tall, freckled redhead lifted her prisoner's chin and gave her a kiss on her gagged lips.  "Time to harness you up, Ponygirl," she purred, and pulled a riding crop from a side pocket of the bag.  "I like spirit in my trail stock," she continued, waving the leaf-like leather blades at the crop's tip before Chelsea's eyes, "but not too much spirit.  You get rambunctious on me and I just might have to spend the day hardenin' yer hide and improvin' yer attitude..."  She gave Chelsea a sharp tap on her left breast with the crop, causing the helpless blonde to flinch.  "...instead of the nice, pleasant stroll up into the mountains I had planned."  Jessie tucked the crop into her belt and produced her pocket knife.  "I'm gonna cut you loose, and you're not gonna touch yer gag or yer collar and yer not gonna cause me any trouble while I get you ready... are you?"

Chelsea sighed and shook her head. I'll play your little game, Cowgirl, she mused, but better keep up your guard.  One slip and this 'Ponygirl' will be harnessing you!  Her defiance slipped, however, when the serrated steel blade of Jessie's knife slid between her lower tummy and the crotch thing and the tight, rawhide ribbon parted like a snapping rubber band.  A few more cuts and she was rubbing her now free wrists, watching her captor fold and pocket her knife, then gather the severed thong and toss it into a waste bucket.

"Hands up and grab the chain," Jessie ordered, "and I want to see a foot n' a half of daylight between your fingers and that collar at all times."  Chelsea grabbed the chain as ordered, elbows bent, wrapping her tan fingers around the steel links.  "Good girl," Jessie purred.  "Ya just might get that apple slice after all."

Chelsea watched as her gloating captor reached into the duffle and produced a pair of... leather opera gloves? ...sleeves? ...mittens? ...all of the above?  Whatever they were, they were of glistening, saddle-brown leather, with steel rings and buckles.

Jessie grabbed Chelsea's right wrist and began pulling one of the sleeve-mittens over her fingers and hand.  "There are five little channels sewn into the far end," she explained as she tugged on the sleek, brown tube, "so be sure your fingers wiggle in where they belong.  Trust me, it'll be more comfortable that way."  Soon, the sleeve was fitted.  It was virtually skintight, made more so when Jessie tightened and knotted the lacings at the sleeve's wrist and upper arm.  A broad cuff with three small roller buckles was strapped over the wrist laces, and a second over the laces at the bicep.  Finally, Jessie snapped one end of a double snap through the stout "D" ring sewn at the end of the mitten, and the other to the neck chain, where moments before Chelsea's hand had rested on the taut steel links.

Chelsea inspected her new bond as Jessie busied herself pulling, lacing and buckling on the left sleeve.  The leather was smooth and tight, but not so tight that it hampered her circulation.  The finger channels were stiff but comfortable, and the wide wrist and bicep cuffs snug and secure.  Jessie finished with the left sleeve and snapped it to the chain as well.  Chelsea could tell that her fingers and hands were now completely useless to her, and no amount of twisting and struggling would defeat the gleaming brown leather restraints.

Jessie reached back into the duffle and produced what Chelsea instantly realized was a leather corset.  The pouting pixie tugged on her bonds and stamped her booted feet, mewing a whining complaint past her gag.  Jessie laughed and fitted the leather device around her lover's already narrow waist.  "Settle down there, Shorty," she cooed.  A riot of dangling straps and tinkling steel fittings, the corset closed with a neat row of seven or eight small buckles down the front.  Stiff half-cups of leather supported (and enhanced) Chelsea's breasts, and the corset itself stretched down to a rounded point midway between her navel and dark blonde pubic bush in front, and a second point just at the start of her ass cleft in back.  Several thin leather straps still dangled from various parts of the corset, front and back, waiting their turn to be fitted and tightened.

The tall, freckled redhead grabbed either side of the corset and gave it a strong shake.  Chelsea growled behind her gag and glared at her captor.  "Hmm... That won't do," Jessie purred, and went back down the row of buckles, tightening each one and tucking the free ends of the narrow straps into tiny pockets sewn into the corset.  She gave the corset another shake.  "That's better," she gloated, then busied herself lifting each of Chelsea's breasts and making sure they were correctly seated in the corset's half-cup shelves.  She smiled as her lover's nipples grew hard and fully erect under her fingers.  Captive and captor locked eyes, Jessie's mouth curved in an evil, gloating smile, Chelsea glaring in brave defiance.  "You breathin' okay in that thing?" Jessie asked.  Chelsea's nostrils flared above her gag, her only answer.  Jessie dropped her gaze to the helpless pixie's nipples, and continued toying with them with her strong fingers, teasing them with her neatly trimmed nails.  "I like these little fellas when they're standin' at attention like this.  Maybe I'll tie some string around them... to keep 'em this way all day."  Chelsea pulled on her mitten bonds and tossed her gagged head, causing her neck chain to rattle.  "Shh... easy there, girl," Jessie cooed.  "I'm only playin' with ya.  I wouldn't do anything to hurt these little guys." 

Jessie then stepped under the chain and unsnapped Chelsea's right sleeve-mitten from the chain.  Chelsea had no intention of wasting her energy on a futile display, but even symbolic resistance was made moot after the helpless blonde heard (and felt) three quiet clicks at her upper arm and three more at her wrist.  A perfunctory effort at movement confirmed that her sleeved arm was now melded to the corset, folded behind her back with the elbow bent at ninety degrees... and likely to stay that way.  It was soon joined by her left arm, then a series of short straps were threaded through various "D" rings and buckles and tightened.  From her limited perspective Chelsea could see little, but by the time her captor was finished, her arms were completely immobilized, from biceps to wrists.  The sleeves and corset didn't even creak when she tried to move.  Finally, straps were added joining the "D" rings at the tips of the mittens across the front of the corset, and additional straps criss-crossing her shoulders from front to back above, and encircling each thigh below.

Chelsea flinched and squirmed in her harness when Jessie's right hand began caressing her glistening labia from behind and her left hand reached around her tightly encased torso and toyed with her right nipple.   "There's no crotch strap," the gloating redhead purred in her captive's left ear, "so you can relieve yourself on the trail... just like any other pony."  Chelsea blushed and mewed through her gag.  Jessie chuckled.  "Oh... did I offend your English sensibilities with my toilet talk?" Jessie cooed.  Chelsea flinched again when the smiling redhead's strong, freckled fingers parted her prisoner's labia and slid part way into her sex.  "Why, you're not offended at all, are you, Pretty Pony?  You're wet as a weasel in heat."  Chelsea mewed and squirmed as her captor's fingers began to move, one hand caressing and stroking her most intimate being, the other gently manipulating her erect nipples.  These ministrations continued... for some time... the pace slowly quickening, as the captive squirmed and fought her restraints.  "Maybe I should stretch you over a barrel and invite one of my stallions to service you," Jessie teased. " Just think of the pretty little foal we'd have in a few months... half Quarter Horse, half Shorty?"  Chelsea's attempt at a defiant growl turned into a shuddering, gagged moan as her tormentor brought her to climax.

Jessie held her bucking, squirming lover close and continued her intimate massage.  Finally, with a final shudder, Chelsea relaxed in her bonds.  Jessie withdrew her hands, stepped under the chain, and stood before her panting prisoner.  "That was quick," she observed.  Chelsea stared at her defiantly, her breasts heaving in the half-cups of the corset and her nostrils flaring above her gag, sweat glistening on her forehead, between her breasts, and on her bare shoulders; a charming blush coloring her bulging cheeks.  Jessie reached out and straightened her lover's bangs with her musk filmed fingers.  "Beats the hell out of a slice of apple, doesn't it Pretty Pony?" 

Despite herself Chelsea's eyes smiled.  Her blush brightened and she turned her head, causing her neck chain to rattle.

Jessie laughed.  "Flirt!" she accused, then walked over and dipped her right hand in the bucket of soapy water she had used to clean her "Pretty Pony's" feet, and dried it with the towel.  "Well... I've got saddlebags to pack and a horse to saddle," she said, "and you still need your head harness and your load fitted."  She returned to the middle of the room with the towel, and used it to lightly scrub her captive's sex.  Chelsea shuddered and squirmed, her blush returning.  Jessie then stooped and used the rope that had been Chelsea's lead to hobble the harnessed, gagged, and neck-chained pixie's booted feet about a foot apart.

Chelsea looked down at the bands of hemp coiled, hitched, and knotted around her sock-protected ankles, then lifted her head to find Jessie disappearing out the stall door.  "Don't go anywhere!" the tall redhead ordered without turning... and was gone.

Chelsea sighed behind her gag.  Yes, she mused, reflecting on her still fading orgasm, it certainly did 'beat the hell out of a slice of apple'... in a humiliating, deliciously perverse way .  She sighed again... and then she heard something: the unmistakable clatter of a horse being led at a walk; but it was from the direction of the Canyon, not from the direction Jessie had taken.  Minutes passed with no further sound.  Must have been a trick of the acoustics, she decided, echoes and such ... then she heard approaching boots, again from the direction of the Canyon.

A female figure passed the doorway and Chelsea's blood ran cold.  It had been a stranger, a blonde in Western attire and hat, carrying a saddle!  There was a pause in the footfalls, then a scrape, then the blonde returned.  She was tall (as tall as Jessie), athletic (like Jessie), and she was beautiful (like Jessie), only her complexion was decidedly tan (rather than Celtic) and her hair long and blonde, with graceful, flowing curls.  She dropped the saddle to the floor with practiced ease and stood with hands on hips, smiling at Chelsea.  The short captive felt her cheeks coloring.

The stranger walked into the room.  She was a cowgirl: boots, jeans, work shirt, and Stetson, bandana around her neck, rawhide gloves on her hands.  It wasn't a costume.  Chelsea could tell she was the genuine article (like Jessie).  She had blue eyes (like Chelsea) and high cheekbones, to match her Swedish complexion and high-cheeked, angelically beautiful face.  She also had a decidedly sardonic grin curling her full lips.  Chelsea fidgeted and squirmed in her bonds (she couldn't help herself) as the stranger slowly looked her up and down.

Finally, the stranger stepped closer, reached out with one gloved hand, lifted Chelsea's chin, and locked eyes with the helpless, embarrassed captive.  "Well," she said, her voice a husky alto (like Jessie), "looks like a stray wandered into my stables."