Tingle Views Her Tack
Tingle looked up as her stall door opened, a mixture of anxiety and excitement in her eyes. She could see that it was Kordum, her trainer, holding an armful of glistening leather and chrome. As all the girls at Madam Brank’s Ranch knew, tomorrow would be the Summer Procession, and today she would be introduced to her new outfit for the occasion.
The bosomy brunette sat motionless in a lotus position on the straw of her stall, legs doubled in their fishnet tubes and ankles crossed in heavy iron cuffs so that her thighs were spread wide apart. With her arms laced into a forearm sheath behind her, wrist-to-elbow, she had so sit rigidly erect. A high leather collar held her head high, and the U-shaped gag of thick rubber attached to her head-harness gripped both upper and lower teeth while a groove in its center kept her tongue captive in its narrow sleeve. Straps from the feather-adorned headdress ran taut beneath her chin to keep her jaws clamped firmly on the gag. She had been in this uncomfortable position for hours, so any novelty in her surroundings was welcome.
“You’re going to love this outfit,” Kordum said sarcastically. “You’ll look like a real queen once it’s in place, and you’ll march like a well-bred pony.” The squat, muscular trainer had been Tingle’s special guard for several months now, and she knew that her shapely charge would be pleased to wear her Mistress’s garb. She held it up, its many accoutrements easily visible.
At first, of course, there would be the collar, a thick, broad leather band that would be locked snugly about her throat and was fitted with several sinister attachments. From its front, a strap would run down between her outthrust breasts to be fastened to a narrow, embossed corselet that would squeeze her waist in to waspish dimensions. A second strap would run down her spine to the corselet. Fixed also to the collar was a pair of shoulder-rings which would hold them high, and a strap between them would draw her shoulders back to hold her standing at full attention.
Tingle knew also that her arms would be harshly doubled in tight-laced leather tubes, squeezing each wrist against its shoulder, and that the rings set at their elbows would allow the guards to tie them firmly together behind her, emphasizing the forward thrust of her ample breasts. This effect would be augmented by leather ringlets about her breasts, attached to the vertical front strap, raising and exposing their silver-ringed nipples in even more extravagant display. The rings, of course, would serve to anchor a Y-shaped leash.
The corselet would also anchor a bodystrap of coarse-woven thongs, exerting delicious pressure up between her legs with every movement. Tingle twisted her hips as much as she could, imagining how provocative its tantalizing grip would feel there, and how its cruel cut between her buns would add to her arousal. This would be an outfit to be proud of!
As for her legs, she was sure that she would be fitted with knee-high pony boots, rigid enough to force her to stand on the balls of her feet at all times and lacking the heels that would alleviate the discomfort. No doubt, too, there would be a thick-linked chain locked between broad iron ankle cuffs, its length to be determined by one of the guards. This would depend on the pace demanded of each ponygirl in the procession.
“Think you can stand this?” Kordrum asked. “You’ll be either hitched with other ponygirls to pull the Queen’s brougham, or else be left to march alone as a special attraction. Either way, the crowd will enjoy your presence in the procession.” She paused. “If I’m lucky, it will be the latter – and I will be the one to hold your leash!”
Tingle bowed her head, aware that as a single ponygirl she would be forced to move in several directions as her leash demanded, exposing her untrammeled body much more openly to the onlookers than if she were simply teamed with other ponygirls to the Queen’s vehicle. Still, the idea of being the sole object of the crowd’s attention was attractive.
She nodded her head and sighed, fully aware that her addiction to ponygirlhood would bring much greater satisfaction if she were alone. She looked up at Kordum and nodded her agreement with the trainer’s preference.
“Okay, girl, you know what tomorrow will bring,” Kordrum concluded. “If I have my way, you’ll be my only responsibility – and you can be sure you will be given a thorough workout.” You’ll learn tomorrow whether I can arrange it.”
With that, the grinning trainer hung the tack on a hook on a wall where Tingle could see it from her hard-breathing position. As she left, locking the stall door, Kordum said, “I’ll get you for breakfast at six in the morning, and then we’ll see just how well this fits you.” The thought of its glossy straps and other gadgets would give Tingle plenty to dream of until then. She bowed her head as much as her collar would allow and sensed with pleasure the growing moisture between her legs.