Amanda's Trial
by Nob

I had noticed an ad in "Bondage Bulletin" that intrigued me. "Beautiful ponygirl bondage devotee needs new master. Box 7782." I answered it immediately, suggesting a date, time, and providing precise directions to my location. After all, I had been without a companion for several weeks now, having sold Ingrid to another bondage-master for a very handsome sum.

The signal for my private elevator chimed, signaling the arrival of my guest. A quick glance around the living room of my spacious Manhattan penthouse assured me that all was in order. I sat up and watched the entrance to the foyer with interest. A moment later, my eyes widened with pleasure.

The girl who walked through the door, a heavy suitcase in one hand, was marvelously voluptuous, a black haired beauty with long, shapely legs, a pair of remarkably full breasts, and a narrow waist that set off the ripe curvature of her hips very nicely. Her face was heart shaped, with sensual lips and sultry eyes. She gave me a dazzling smile. I smiled back and said, "If you'll tell me your name, I'll be pleased to ask you to make yourself comfortable."

She put down the suitcase and took a seat in the easy chair across the coffee table from me. "My name is Amanda James, and you must be Jason Barlash," she said softly. "It's nice to be here. Your directions were very clear."

"I wanted to be sure you would come. Now that you're here, why don't you tell me about yourself," I suggested. "Age, education, things like that."

Amanda crossed her legs slowly, giving me a good look at their inviting curves. "Okay," she said. "I'm 24, college graduate, majored in art history, and for the time being I'm unemployed. My previous, er, employer is now doing a long term in prison for some sort of white-collar crime. Ah, maybe if we get along, I won't need to worry about a job. I'm spending some time now looking for just the right Master, so I won't commit myself right away. But if things work out, you can count on hearing from me again." She paused a moment, smiled again, and then said, "I'd like to know a little about you too, Mr. Barlash."

"Oh, for now you can call me Jason. We can make other arrangements later if things work out. I'm 42, already retired from the company I founded, and have more money than I know what to do with. I just hope I can make things attractive for you here."

"I hope so, too," she replied. Then she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, I expect we ought to get started. You'd like me to strip, I assume."

I nodded my agreement. "Yes, we may as well get down to business. We'll learn more about each other as the afternoon progresses."

So my guest got to her feet and began systematically to remove her clothing. I watched with growing admiration and excitement as her physical charms were slowly revealed. Her high-heeled pumps came off first, followed by her skirt and blouse. I could see that her undershirt was hard pressed to contain her generous bosoms, and that her mons veneris was invitingly plump. Her tiny string panties outlined her crotch seductively and showed no bikini hair. Interesting!

"Hold it a minute," I told her. "I'd like to see you walk around just as you are now, before you take off the rest of your things."

She took in a deep breath, showing me just how ripe her breasts were, and then strolled easily around the room. Being barefoot made her even more enticing. Her derriere was firm and pertly rounded, as I'd hoped. Finally I said, "That's fine. You have an incredible figure, Amanda. Now I'd like to see all of it."

"Yes, Sir," she answered, and quickly slipped out of her remaining garments. I pursed my lips with satisfaction as her gorgeous body was finally completely open to view. She shook her shoulders a little, making her breasts sway. I gave a low whistle.

Her crotch was entirely hairless, not what one would expect. "Do you shave yourself often?" I asked.

"Not any more," she chuckled. "My previous Master spent a lot of money having me permanently depilated, so I don't have to worry about that anymore. I was shaved and then smeared with a special lotion that got down to the root of each follicle and killed it completely." She tilted her head to one side and added, "It was sort of like a 'Round-Up' for pubic hair, if you see what I mean. Even after my pony name was tattooed there, I felt absolutely naked for quite a while, but now I'm awfully glad it was done. You have no idea how much nicer it is to wear tight panties now."

Then she asked, "Any particular pose you'd like to see?" "Hands behind and feet apart," I suggested. She came to came to rigid attention at first, and then clasped her hands behind her back and spread her legs about a foot apart. There was a faint smile on her lips, suggesting that she was well aware of the impact she was making on me.

"Perfect," I told her. "And I assume that you have your own equipment in the suitcase?" She said, "Of course. Would you like to look it over now? I'll have it open in a moment."

She undid the lock and emptied its contents on the rug. I whistled. The array included a number of things that demonstrated just how experienced she was in B&D: a black leather corselet, several hobble chains of different lengths with heavy cuffs attached, a singleglove, a pair of short gloves, a bridle, pony reins, a discipline helmet, and an assortment of bodystraps. There was even an ornate box that I knew must contain a pair of nipple cones. I thought of my own equipment in the master bedroom and decided that by combining both sets I could develop a marvelously complex set of outfits for her.

"I've got some hinge cuffs that I'd like to use first," I told her, and went to get them. When I returned, Amanda was cupping her breasts in her hands, massaging them gently. Her deep breathing and faraway expression made it clear that she was as eager as I to begin her restraint.

"Perhaps you'd better put on that corselet first," I said. "No need to make things more difficult than necessary." She agreed, and got the article from the suitcase. After wrapping it about her waist she said, "Will you do the laces, Sir?"

I was more than happy to comply, and soon had the bizarre garment laced to serious compression about her middle. There were d-rings set at each side to hook to wrists or a pony carriage, and there was a buckle set at its back, clearly for the purpose of tightening a bodystrap, and I decided that it certainly shouldn't go to waste. "Pick a bodystrap," I told her. "Whichever one you like. Oh, and tell me why you like it."

Amanda tilted her head for a second. "Mmmm, that's a challenge." She rolled her hips, gave a modest bump, and leaned down to pick up a broad strap that seemed to have a series of large lumps along its length. She held it up and told me, "This one has steel ball bearings sewn between its two layers. It provides a little more, er, action than the others." She paused and then added, "But please don't pull it too tight right away. It takes me a while to get used to it."

I assured her that I would be gentle on her. She hooked one end of the bodystrap at the front of her corselet and poked the free end back between her thighs. I took it, worked it up in between her asscheeks, and threaded it through the buckle. At the fourth notch, she whispered, "That's enough, please. Wow, it's positioned just right!"

It occurred to me that she might be testing my authority, so I deliberately pulled the strap another notch tighter, wringing an explosive gasp from her throat. "Aaah, uuuh," she moaned, twisting her hips gingerly in an attempt to seat the bodystrap more comfortably.

"Never give in to a girl's first request," I said cheerfully. "She may be asking for more than she deserves."

"Yes, Sir," Amanda agreed, gritting her teeth. Then I got the hinge cuffs ready and instructed her to bring her hands together behind her. She obeyed me promptly. With only a little difficulty, I snapped the cuffs closed over her wrists, making sure they were properly snug. Because the cuffs are connected by a cross wise hinge at the inner side of each cuff rather than a chain, they hold the wearer's hands immovably palm to palm, thus limiting her ability to use them more than do the usual fetters. My pretty prisoner discovered this fact immediately and shook her head in resignation.

I warned her to stand still while I selected a hobble. The one I chose had about 12 inches of chain and heavy cuffs at least three inches in width at either end. It was quickly locked in place. "Okay," I told her, "try walking to the end of the room and back." She had no problem in adapting her pace to the hobble's limit, and moved with quick, precise steps. As she came back toward me, I became even more appreciative of the firmness of her generous breasts. They barely swayed, despite their ripely curved heft.

"We'll do without a gag just now," I announced. "I'd rather have you free to make comments whenever you like - and of course to answer questions when I ask them." She nodded her head. "You're the boss."

I beckoned her to come and stand before me. "I just can't believe those marvelous bazooms," I said. "They simply demand inspection!" Amanda had been expecting this, clearly, and drew her shoulders back so that her luscious frontal equipment would be more readily available. I stepped forward and cupped one breast in each hand, testing their heft and enjoying the smoothness of her skin. She sucked in a sharp breath when I first touched her and then sighed softly as I began to stroke and knead them gently.

"How does this feel?" I asked sternly.

"Very nice, Jason, er, Master, I mean." she responded. "I can feel my nips getting stiff already. From the way you are handling me, I can tell you have had a lot of experience." She nodded her satisfaction with the sensations I was producing. A moment later, she murmured "Oh, yesss" as I began to rub my thumbs across her thickening nipples, at the same time squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head to one side. Her positive response encouraged me to continue, which I did by pressing her bosoms together and rubbing them against each other. She gave a husky moan.

"M-master?" she ventured softly after I had been working on her breasts for several more minutes. "What is it?" I asked.

"Will you be using my n-nipple cones this afternoon? I'm beginning to feel like I should be wearing them. Please, Master?"

Well, this was a delightful surprise. Not many girls find wearing a pair of nipple-cones at all attractive, so it was obvious that Amanda was into bondage in a big way. I flicked softly at her nipples and smiled. "If you're a really good girl," I promised, "I'll put them on you in a little while. But before I do, I want to put a discipline helmet on you and a leash."

She smiled shyly and said, "Oh, thank you, Master."

So I went back to the master bedroom to get a high collar of stainless steel and a long leash of braided nylon cords. She bowed her head to let me lock the collar at the back of her neck. It closed with a loud metallic click. She tried to bend her head forward, only to find that the collar's three-inch width would not allow this. After I fixed the leash to the front of her collar, I picked up the discipline helmet she had brought and inspected it.

It was constructed of thick, leather-like vinyl with a zipper down the back and additional straps at the sides to increase its compression. There was an opening below the niche for her nose, and mesh screens at the ears. I was pleased to see that the openings at her eyes and mouth could be zipped shut easily. I noted too that the helmet's mouth was wide enough to accept a fancy gag. Quite a nice piece of work.

Then I told Amanda to hold still while I fitted her face into the front of the helmet. She did so, sighing when I pressed it snugly over her nose and forehead and began to run the zipper down its back. With that closed, the thing seemed fairly tight already, but I used a few of the little straps to tighten it even more. Its wearer moaned in response to the pressure. Making sure the helmet's collar-strap was secure, I turned her around to look into my face.

"I'll leave your eyes and mouth open for now, girl," I told her, "but I can always close them if it becomes necessary. Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes, Master, thank you," she breathed. "It feels to good to have my helmet really tight like this." She hummed and gurgled her pleasure as I resumed my studied assault on her breasts, teasing their undersides with my fingernails and tweaking their throbbing tips. A little later, it occurred to me that pulling her bodystrap another notch tighter would have an equally dramatic effect-and it did. Grunting at the erotic pressure, she twisted and rolled her hips frantically as the devilish strap cut up into her puss even more insistently.

I took the end of her leash and jerked at it. "Follow me, girl. If I'm going to put those clamps on you, you'll have to be in the right position. That means bending forward from your waist and keeping your upper body straight." Amanda said that she understood. But when she tried to assume the pose I wanted, her back curved too much.

It was obvious that she would need help. Another trip to the bedroom produced a heavy leather strap which I used to draw her elbows together behind her. The effect was to wrench her shoulders back, and to make it impossible for her to bend her torso above the waist. When I was satisfied, her elbows were actually jammed against each other, leaving her forearms to hang straight down behind her. She moaned under the stress. Now, however, when I pulled her leash down to fasten it to the center of her hobble, she had to lean forward at a right angle, her upper body stiff as a board, with her breasts hanging down and ready for the cones.

Like all such devices, the nipple-cones she had brought were hollow cones of steel, something more than an inch in diameter at the open lower end and fitted with a ring of tiny metal teeth about the inner rim. Turning the ring set at the tip of each cone would make the circle of teeth contract about the base of the nipple over which it had been fitted, squeezing it firmly inside the cone and ensuring that it could not be pulled off. Then the cones could serve to anchor a leash or reins, or as places to which other items could be attached - a little tinkling bell, for instance, or a punitive weight.

Amanda must have been thoroughly familiar with the cones and appreciative of their erotically painful presence, for she did not try at all to evade their attachment. Instead, she gave a low moan of pleasure as each one was tightened over its tender target.

"Aaah, yes," she breathed, "that's it - that's what I wanted! Oh, Master, I'm your slave!" Even when she saw that I was fastening a five-foot forked leash to her breasts, she continued to hum with pleasure.

Then I unfastened the leash from her collar to her hobble chain and removed it, since now I could rely on the breast-leash instead. She stood erect again and tried to look down at her new ornaments. But her collar and helmet would not allow her to bend her neck that much, so she looked straight into my eyes and whispered, "Command me, Master!"

"All right, slave," I answered, "I want to see you go through an orgasm. I'm going to take your bodystrap off, run this leash back through your crotch, and keep tension on it until you fire off. Can you do that?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yes . . .oh, yes, Master, torture me! Pull it hard!"

So I first unbuckled the rear of her bodystrap, eliciting a brief moan of disappointment from her, and then pulled the breast-leash back between her trembling thighs and up between her buns. I tugged up on it. She stiffened and began a series of enthusiastic bumps and grinds, pulling against the leash and grunting as she worked to pleasure her cunt. The downward pull at her nipple-cones clearly added to her arousal. I kept the leash taut, pulling it this way and that to keep her asscheeks moving. Soon she began to buck against it, hungry for yet more stimulation.

"On your knees, girl," I ordered a few moments later, reasoning that more humiliation would add to her excitement. She obeyed, dropping first to one knee and then placing the other a good two feet away from it so that her crotch was wide open. Despite the position of her arms, I was able to pull up hard on her leash, almost lifting her off the floor, and was rewarded with her yowl of pleasure-pain.

"Oh, yes, YESssss," she caroled, tilting her head back and shaking her shoulders so that her breasts swung back and forth to jerk against the leash-ends attached to their tips. While I maintained the upward tension on her leash with one hand, I could use the other to grab at her buns and squeeze one and then the other. Her passion climbed, signaled by guttural cries of arousal, and I knew that she would pop very soon.

I placed my free hand at the back of her helmet and shoved forward, telling her to bow her face to the floor. Cautiously, she did as I ordered, leaning down stiffly from her hips so that her forehead touched the rug. Jerking more viciously at her leash, I was determined to make her explode with rapture as soon as possible. Her screech of excitement told me that I was close to success.

A slap across her buns, accompanied by another upward jerk at her leash, finally achieved our goal. Amanda's torso came erect while she shook and shivered under the glory of a first-class carnal eruption. I kept tugging up on her leash, squeezing her clit and tormenting her nipples, and taking deep satisfaction in seeing her reach climax so vigorously. Her throaty cries of pleasure were like music.

After she began to come down from the peak of ecstasy, I halted my work with her leash and gave her a few moments of rest. She continued to moan softly, breathing hard and trying to establish contact with everyday reality again.

Watching Amanda go through her exquisite rapture had its effect on me, of course. I actually thought that my shorts would rip apart as my weapon of flesh extended in its full strength. Breathing hard, I unbuckled the strap binding her elbows together behind her and said hoarsely, "All right, girl, you've had your fun - now I want mine!"

She whispered, "Ooohh, Master, can you give me a little time? I've just had a gigantic cum and I'll need a minute to recover before I can handle another one." I remained silent. Then she said, "And can you put me in a different position? That will make it even more exciting."

"Exactly what I have in mind, girl," I growled. "Here, let's get you into my bedroom." That, of course, was where I could position her to my liking - although perhaps not to hers! - and then take my time in satisfying my own demands.

She rose slowly to her feet, wobbling a little, and I freed her wrists from their hinge-cuffs. Then I used her breast-leash to lead her to my well-equipped bed. I smiled to hear her gasp in awe as she saw what awaited her.

A length of heavy metal pipe extended from each side of the foot of the queen-sized bed, fitted with a D-ring at each end, and two more posts stood up more than a yard at the corners of the head of the bed. I told her, "I want you to lie down here on your back while I get things ready." "Yes, Sir," she answered right away, and did as I had ordered.

My first step was to bring two broad straps and bind each of her legs double, first running a loose strap behind each knee. When I was satisfied with the straps' tightness, I used the knee-straps to stretch her thighs out toward the ends of the pipe until they were spread as widely as possible. She moaned at the tension but did nothing with her hands to ease her position.

Then I buckled a couple of thick leather cuffs about her wrists to serve as anchors for more straps that would pull them up toward the tops of the vertical posts at the head of the bed. This of course increased the tension on her legs as well as holding her shoulders held a few inches above the bed. She tried to twist her body but found it impossible to do anything but shake her head from side to side.

God, I could barely wait to get at her! But first, while I removed my own clothes, I took a few moments to admire my prize. Her body was in a kind of spreadeagle, although not the usual "X" that the term suggests. With her hairless puss wide open, her engorging clit clearly visible, and her breasts still tipped with the nipple-cones, she was the most desirable female I had seen in quite a while. But since I wanted to get at those luscious breasts directly, I unfastened the cones and put them on the bedside table. Her eyes widened at what this suggested.

And that suggested that a blindfold might be in order, just to keep her from knowing what I would do next. When I held one up for her inspection, she husked, "How did you know that being blinded makes me even more excited? Ooh, think I'm ready for you now, Master!"

I placed the eyepads closely over each eye and buckled the strap tightly behind her head. "My God," she murmured, "this is so heavenly!"

"I take a lot of pride in my self-control," I told her, "so we're going to spend quite a while at this. If I do things the way they should be done, you'll spend ten minutes or more at the very doorway to carnal paradise, as will I, and you'll never forget it." "Ahh, Yesss," she said softly, and then stiffened as I brushed my lips against the inside of her left thigh. She wriggled as much as her restraints would allow while I continued to lave her thighs with delicate tongue-slaps and occasional suction.

Then I moved my attention to her waist, licking here and there and slowly moving up toward her breasts. Amanda gasped with excitement as I finally found her rich, ripening nipples and nipped teasingly at them. Slowly, I circled each one of them with my tongue, making it flutter and probe at its opulent targets and savoring her moans of pleasure.

I backed away for a moment so that I could use my hands instead of my mouth in exploring her breasts, making her groan with passion. Cupping them, squeezing them, rubbing them against each other, I panted my growing excitement. I kept this up for several moments, feeling my own need build more even fiercely. At last, I focused my oral attentions on her lovelips, now shiny with moisture, and then began to whip her clit with my tongue. Her ragged howl of desire became too much for my body to hold back any longer. She could feel me climbing aboard her wide-stretched body, then sliding my rod up and down between her labia - not entering her, but rubbing harshly against her clit.

The result was the woman's gradual surrender to her sexual potential, oohing and aahing so that I knew she was close to the climax. This was my signal to enter her, and I did so with a burst of energy and command that brought her almost immediately to the explosion she so needed. While she heaved and gasped her delight, I held back as long as I could before joining her in this exquisite eruption of bodily ecstasy. We held the position for several minutes, gasping from the effort that our joy had demanded and literally wallowing in the golden aura of utter physical fulfillment.

I told her, matter-of-factly, that I would take her down to my ponyfarm first thing in the morning, to be ringed and branded. She gave me a pleased look and a knowing smile, saying simply "Thank you, Master". The trial was over.

The End