Part 3: In the Hands of Heather
Heather has hold of the end of my leash and she is leading to along as naturally as if she had a dog to heel. The leash is part heavy chain and is the most subtly evil leash I have ever had a pleasure to wear.
My girlfriend has leashed me many times over the years as part of our kinky games, both to a collar and to a wickedly constructed body harness she found online at some website I never manged to locate. But this one is evil beyond belief. As to what Heather had done with my girlfriend I could only guess. We had both been passed into slavery by her friend and who knew what future we had before us out here in this countryside retreat.
Heather gave the leash a tug as she felt me hang back slightly and I whimpered with something between frustration and lust as I scrambled forward more quickly. I almost trotted after her, her gleaming black lycra clad arse rolling in the most erotic fashion imaginable before me as her teetering heels picked their way across the concrete yard.
She was talking to her tiny red-headed friend as if I was not there, just tugging at that damn leash every so often. Her friend’s arse was bound in tight denim hotpants, and a cropped top of gleaming white revealed a tight stomach that together made me go weak at the knees and rock hard at the groin.
My hands are cuffed behind my back with soft leather manacles that are comfortable enough but firmly buckled tight to my wrists to keep them their prisoner. There is a matching soft black leather collar at my throat decorated with studs and gleaming D rings thankfully not in use but that promised a terrible future. My mouth was free but I dared not cry out. I both feared and desired the punishment they would dish out should I displease them.
The evil leash was fastened tightly about my throbbing manhood. With my hands snugly cuffed I had been helpless to stop them as they slowly fastening it in place. All soft leather and buckles it had me in a wickedly soft grasp that both confined and tormented me.
The widest strap was fastened tight against my body behind my testicles, a gleaming buckle chafing incessantly. A second strap was firmly buckled in front of my swinging testicles, then a strip was rested along the top of my already raging manhood by the wickedly dancing fingers of Heather. From that long central strap dangled a number of slender, buckled straps that she slowly and deliberately fastened around my raging manhood. One by one, from the base of my manhood to the front tight against the rear of the head they encircled me, each with a tiny buckle beneath each that rubbed insistently against my ever engorging manhood.
The final terrible touch was the strap that closed over the end. The inner section of every strap had been left unfinished, so the soft, slightly hairy leather rubbed against my erection, and as she closed the final strap over the tip that irritating hairy softness was pressed gently yet firmly against the tender tip bringing me to an aching hardness that made my eyes water. Then, as I walked, it rubbed insistently with every step, my manhood getting ever harder and the other straps getting ever tighter until I was in the most exquisite state of arousal, helped not one bit the ever-present sight of Heather’s glorious lycra clad arse and the weight of that heavy chain pulling ever downwards against my erection.
Her red headed friend was laughing at something Heather was talking about, and as they laughed Heather shook slightly, a shaking motion that travelled down the length of that swinging chain causing me even more torment as it made my manhood swing gently from left to right, forcing a whimper from my lips.
I must have lagged for a moment and they stopped abruptly, turning to face me, the chain still swinging, and regarded me with four sparkling eyes, two big and bewitchingly brown, two bright blue yet cold as ice.
“Now see here” said Heather softly “I do hope you are not going to be difficult with us. If you are, we will have to take steps to break you to our will, and I assure you that will not be to your taste”
“After all, we remember what we did to Marcus” said redhead with a smile on her face “You would not like us to do that to you. We broke his brain Heather, didn’t we ?”
“Ah yes, poor Marcus” purred Heather “We broke that poor mans brain. Shall we show him what we did it ?”
Redhead nodded, and suddenly I was being led along again to a distant part of the yard. Soon I was looking down at a grassy patch with stout poles driven into the soil in a wide square. And from each pole extended a leather cuff. As they stood silent and let me take in the scene before me, I wondered what evil refinement on the obvious they had used to break the mind of poor Marcus.
Heather looped my leash over a hitching post and crouched by the square, picking up one of the manacles and offering it up for my inspection. At first sight I thought it a simple leather manacle, then I watched as Heather tugged at it.
The black strap between it and the post driven into the ground was a thick elastic, and I suddenly had an inkling of the evil of the bondage square. A wide smile spread across Heather’s face as she took in the look of realisation on my face. Her ruby red lips split to reveal a set of pure white teeth and my manhood bobbed even more frantically in its harness.
“That is right” she said “Aren’t they just evil ?. We strapped down poor Marcus here and he thought it was a nice soft bondage, then as his muscles got tired and he could no longer fight the elastic the bondage gets tighter and tighter. After half an hour of struggling and cursing he was stretched out nice and tight and quite unable to do any damn thing about it”
Redhead had a smile on her face so wide I thought her head might break as she took up the story.
“Poor Marcus, I almost felt sorry for him. We gave him a few quick strokes to give him the sort of erection you are sporting, you naughty boy, and drizzled it with some honey. Nice warm honey”
Heather threw back her head and laughed at the memory and took up the story.
“We have an amiable old farm dog. Big black lad with very little left in the way of teeth, but a great taste for honey and a nice long doggie tongue. Ah, I see from your cock you are enjoying the mental image. Yes, we let our doggie have a nice long lick. Kept adding more honey, and doggie kept licking it off. That long warm tongue getting into every little crevice, and sure enough the inevitable happened and poor old Marcus came. So we added some more honey and doggie kept on licking and after an afternoon of increasingly painful orgasms poor Old Marcus’s mind finally broke. When we eventually let him up he got hard and horny every time he saw a big black dog, poor man”
“So we have passed him on to a lesbian” cried redhead with glee “A lesbian with some wicked big black dogs on her farm”
“A very wicked lesbian” said Heather “She has trained her dogs to carry out all sorts of acts and services. I understand one will even lead one of her ‘victims’ to their fate on a leash. There is also talk of a ‘mating rack’. I am sure that works fine for her lesbian visitors, not sure how well it will work out for a man mind, but I am sure Marcus will have fun finding out. Oh look at you bobbing, I do believe you are envious of him. Perhaps we should lend you to her as well ?”
I was swearing inside at my treacherous manhood as it took in the evil fantasy that it found both terrible and somehow exciting in its utter perversity.
“Come along with us now” said Heather, unhitching my leash and giving it a tug that made me whimper. They were walking faster now and I had to move my feet quickly to keep up, but they kept moving just that little bit faster than I could comfortably without the use of my arms so the leash was always tugging firmly at my massively engorged manhood, my perverted arousal spurred on by the two tightly sheathed arses rolling in front of me as they swiftly covered the ground.
Eventually we came to a halt outside what could only be a stable building, and without a word Heather kicked open the door and I took in the terrible device that stood in that stable stall.
At first I thought it was a statue or some sort of sculpture, then I slowly took in the thing that would soon hold my fate. It looked as if it were a figure of a pony standing lazily in the middle of the stall, but it was not. It was a cunning bondage construct designed to make someone it’s utter prisoner.
It’s back was hinged open to reveal that it was hollow right down to it’s feet and thickly padded for comfort and confinement. I was led silently over and supported as my legs were guided to step into the back legs of the construct. The padding grasped my legs tightly as they slipped in and I knew that once in place there was no hope for my escape without help.
My toes were pointed as I felt padding at the rear of the legs and I felt as if I were standing in heels as I was shoved forwards so my torso came to rest along the body of the ‘pony’. My hands were uncuffed and deftly shoved into the front legs of the construct and before I knew it they were clasped tight within them and I was helplessly trapped bent over on all fours with my limbs the prisoner of this bizarre but fiendishly efficient bondage toy.
I felt warm fingers slip my still rock hard manhood through a hole on the base of the ‘body’ of the bondage pony and I let out a half-human cry as the straps of the leash were unfastened and my tormented manhood swayed finally free in the air. A soft rubber surround about the hole closed tight about its base keeping me ever hard and tormented.
Heather knelt in front of me and the last thing I saw before redhead closed the back of the bondage pony over me was her smile. A warm, soft smile under those huge brown eyes that made me horny and romantic all at once, then the back of the beast was pressed hard against me and I was the utter prisoner of their bondage pony and the head closed over my own.
Within the head I found was peering out from behind the ‘eyes’ of the head and I could see the girls moving about me. I saw them take up a saddle and I felt it being settled on my back, straps being fastened about the belly of the creation I was trapped within. Straps that kept the two halves tightly together no matter how hard I might struggle. Heather held up a mirror to show be how I looked.
Aside from my bobbing manhood there was nothing to give away to the world that the realistic looking pony model was anything other than a model for play. The real saddle on my back only added to the impression.
The first touch of the warm fingers on my cock made me lurch but there was no hope of movement for me. Whether the fingers belong to Heather or the redhead I had no hope of knowing, but they curled about my manhood and worked it both gently and slowly.
The scream when I came after so long in erect torment must have been audible outside even the dense shell of my bondage prison, and I came harder and longer than I would ever have thought possible. When the flashing lights in my vision and the terrible ache between my legs had passed I felt my manhood shrivel up into my terrible pony prison and I wondered what they had in mind for me next.
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