The Mayor's Daughter: Draft Pony (11 page)

She turned in
place at his command, pivoting on her bound foot.

“Let’s try it
again, Princess. This time, I need you to smile.”

Taking a deep
breath, she forced a smile onto her lips, and spun around again. She tried
to imagine that she was modeling a new outfit for some girlfriends, anywhere
but here.  

“Much better,
Princess,” he said with a smile. “Now, one more time, but this time I want
you to start in a pose with your arms up, and bring them down and behind you as
you turn. End facing me with a smile, and with your hands behind your
back.”

Steeling her
resolve, she stood on her bound foot, and pointed the toe of her other foot out
slightly to the side, raising her arms above her head with her palms facing up
as if she were holding up the ceiling. Winking at the camera and smiling
as warmly as she could muster, she turned slowly, bringing her arms down behind
her as he instructed.

“That was
perfect, Princess.” Her captor grinned broadly as he turned off the camera
and returned to her, holding the other pair of cuffs in his hand, and picking
up the suede boots along the way.

“Please, you
don’t need those,” Jessica whimpered softly as he closed the cuffs on her
wrists, locking them once again behind her back.

“It’s going
to be very temporary, Princess,” he answered as he squatted down and
removed the cuff from her ankle, placing the boots before her. “In a moment,
you won’t be wearing any cuffs at all.”

He pointed to
the boots, and she stepped into them, wriggling her toes in the soft furry
interior. The feel of them stood out in her mind in stark contrast to the
feel of the other boots she had been wearing. While she settled into them, he
moved across the room to a camera that stood on a tripod behind the wooden
chair. She turned to face him across the short distance.

“Now, I need
you to walk to the chair, in as sexy and playful a fashion as you can imagine,” he
spoke quickly, barely containing his excitement. “We’ll try this one a few times,
so feel free to experiment. Pretend that you’re on a runway.”

He settled in
behind the camera, and she saw its light come on. Taking a deep breath, she
forced a smile again and strutted across the room to the chair. It was
hard to feel sexy with her hands locked behind her back, but she did her best,
bouncing her hips as she walked her sexiest walk.

“Very good,
Princess,” he laughed, rustling her hair as she turned and sat on the
seat. “Let’s try it again. This time, give me a pouting look instead of
that beautiful smile of yours.”

She lost
track of how many times she made the approach to the chair, her displayed
emotions ranging from angry to shocked to amused, but all the while only barely
covering the fear inside her. She tried desperately to give him exactly
what he was looking for with each take, her belly beginning to rumble at the
thought of the promised dinner.

“That will
do, Princess, though I’ll have a hard time picking which one to use.” She
sighed with relief at his words as he finally let her remain seated in the
chair.

Behind her,
she felt him tug at the belt, and then the click of a lock. A moment
later, he removed the cuffs from her wrists. Trying to rise from the
chair, she quickly discovered that the back of the belt was firmly locked to
the chair, and that the chair did not move, somehow fastened to the
ground. He walked out in front of her, bringing the camera and tripod with
him, and placing it on the floor facing her.

“Now,
Princess, we are going to have our interview.” He smiled as he set up the
camera and tripod. “Instead of asking you questions, though, I will just tell
you what to say.  I figure it will save us some time and
frustration. I want you to be very animated during this interview. Remember,
you’re excited to be here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I
understand,” she answered softly, crossing her legs and adjusting the hem
of the short skirt as the camera lens bared down on her.

“I want you
to move around a lot, too,” he continued. “Lean forward when you should be
getting really excited about something. Play with your hair. Cross
and re-cross your legs.”

“O-okay,” she
whispered as she saw the red light of the camera come on.

“Good, say
hello to the camera, give a little wave, and tell me that your name is Sierra,” he
began.

“Hi everyone.” She
smiled as best she could, and gave the camera a little wave. “I’m Sierra.”

“Wonderful,
Princess.” His smile matched hers. “Now tell everyone that you’re a little
nervous about what you’re getting into, but that you’re excited to get started.”

“Well, I’m a
little nervous,” she spoke, letting her smile falter a little, and then
return, “but I’m so excited to be here. I barely slept a wink last night.”

“Nice touch, Princess,
and ironically true. If you keep that up, I’ll make tonight a very special
night for you. Now, tell everyone that you decided to do this after you
had so very much fun for your birthday party.”

“I guess that
I decided to do this after my birthday party. It was just… just… so
amazing that I had to come back for more.” She struggled for a moment to
force the words out, the memory of the birthday torture still fresh in her
mind, quickly improvising to try and salvage the moment. “I mean, it just
totally blew my mind.”

“Now, I want
you to have a little fun with this one, Princess. But first, when you were
a little girl, did you ever play cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers with
any of the neighbor kids or your relatives?”

“Well yeah,
sure, we played cops and robbers some times.”

“Who did you
play with?”

“My cousins,
when they would come to visit.”

“And were you
ever the robber?”

“Yes.”

“Did they
ever arrest you? Tie you up?”

“Well, yeah,
I guess.  I mean, it was a long time ago.”

“Okay, Princess,” he
spoke softly, obviously thinking carefully of what he wanted to say. “Now, I
want you to tell me how you used to let them tie you up, how it made you feel
strange things that you didn’t really understand, but that you knew felt good. I
want you to talk as if you’re answering a question about when you first came to
know that you liked being tied up.”

“But
why?  What’s the point of all this?”

“Just think
about your answer, and then begin when you’re ready, Princess.”

Jessica
uncrossed her legs slowly, keeping her thighs pressed together and running her
fingers through her hair for a moment as she tried to figure out exactly what
she would say. It felt dirty, somehow, talking about her childhood family
experiences like this, and connecting them to this horrible place, but she
wanted to prolong this relative freedom as long as she could. Though still
a prisoner, locked to the chair, the freedom of her arms and legs made her want
to cry out with relief.

“Wow, when
did I first know?” she began, locking her gaze on the camera lens as she
bent forward in the seat, hands on her knees.  

She paused
for a moment, trying to appear that she was lost in thought, cocking her head
slightly before smiling again and then leaning back in the seat and crossing
her legs and then hugging herself.

“I guess that
I knew, on some level, back when I was about eleven, and my cousins would come
to visit,” she continued slowly, trying to make it seem natural. “They
were one and two years younger than me, and they always wanted to play cops and
robbers. Somehow, I was always the robber, and I’d let them arrest me and
put me in jail. It made me feel strange. I didn’t really understand
what was going on, but I knew that I liked it.”

“Excellent,
Princess,” he beamed with enthusiasm. “Now, I want you to tell me about
how disappointed you were the time that you tried to run away and the plastic
handcuffs on your ankles broke.”

She just
looked at him for a moment, at first confused because no such event had ever
occurred to her, and then realizing that he was talking about some event from
his own past. She shuddered at the thought of who the real girl was who
had worn the plastic cuffs in his childhood. Did she know about how he had
fixated on that moment? Was that why he had become a police officer? She
realized that he was staring at her expectantly.

“I remember
this one time…,” she began slowly, trying to let the story build, to give
the sick bastard what he wanted and get to dinner. “It was the last time that I
ever played cops and robbers with them. They had put these silly plastic
handcuffs on my hands, and on my feet. They had me in jail, which was
really just the closet, but they left the door a little ajar.”

As she spoke,
she sat upright in the chair, uncrossing her legs and bringing her booted feet
together on the floor, her hands balled into fists, resting on her bare thighs
as she looked down at them as if she was lost in thought. She paused for a
moment in silence as if she were playing out the memory in her mind. When
she looked up, she saw that her captor was staring back at her with a wild look
in his eyes. She could tell that he was hanging on her every word, so she
tried to play it up a bit more, feeling as though she had somehow found a
weakness in his seemingly impenetrable hide.

“So, I tried
to make a break for it,” she continued, looking back into the camera. “I
wanted to see what it would feel like to shuffle along in the cuffs. I
think that I was looking forward to being recaptured, too, and to seeing what
they might do to me then. Only, when I got up to run, the cuffs broke
after my first couple steps.”

“And how did
that make you feel?” her captor asked, seemingly mesmerized by her
fabrication.

“I was
crushed… crestfallen,” she answered. “The moment was ruined. My
cousins were mad at me for breaking their toys. We never played again.”

“You don’t
have to worry about that sort of disappointment here, Sierra,” his words
were a firm promise. “You won’t break free here.”

“No,” she
swallowed, smiling nervously. “I am sure that I won’t.”

Her answer
seemed to break the spell, and he paused for a moment, adjusting the settings
on the video-camera. He locked eyes with her again.

“So, now we’re
at the end, Princess,” he spoke softly. “I want you to explain to the
camera that you’re surrendering yourself to this dungeon for one year, and that
you understand that there will be no turning back once it begins. Tell the
camera that you understand that there will be no safeword, and that there will
be no mercy. Tell me that you want me to turn you into a ponygirl.”

“Please, why
does it have to be that horrible pony stuff?” Jessica pleaded, pouting as
best she could, trying to cling to that weakness she had seen in him earlier. “I’ll
do whatever you want. You can… you can… you can keep me in the handcuffs,
but why make me do those other things?”

“Princess,
you’ve been very good,” he warned. “Please don’t spoil it.”

“I understand
that I am giving myself over for a year, and that once it starts, there is no
turning back,” she spoke fearfully, trying to seem nervous, but not to
expose the terror that gripped her. “I want… I want you to make me a… a
ponygirl. I don’t want a safeword, and I don’t want or expect mercy. Once
you begin, I know that the end only comes one way. But, you should know
one thing.”

“And what’s
that, Princess?” he asked, raising a brow.

“You better
hope I don’t break the cuffs this time,” she spoke icily, trying to sound
more confident than she felt.

“Oh, don’t
you worry your pretty little head about that, Princess.” He laughed as he
turned off the camera and walked back to her, twirling a pair of the hated
cuffs on his index finger. “How about that dinner now?”

Jessica
walked across the room with her captor, boot soles scuffing on the concrete floor,
his grip firm on her arm. She was weary to the bone, and her wrists ached
as she tugged unconsciously at their tight cuffs, but she couldn’t help but
feel good about the promise of food to come. Her stomach rumbled in
anticipation of the meal. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since
she’d last eaten. She worried about the events of the last hour or so, and
the use to which he would put the videotape, but what else could she have done? If
she had resisted, it would only have led to more pain and torture. Better
to play his game, follow his sick rules, and hope for an opening.

“You’re not
allergic to anything specific, are you?” he asked her as they approached a
heavy wooden table with two matching chairs next to each other on one side. “I’d
have asked your father before picking you up, but it would have just made him
suspicious.”

“No, I’m not,” she
answered, looking up at him as they walked, meeting his eyes to look for any
sign of deception. “And what do you mean, suspicious?”

“Well, your
dear old dad no doubt assumed that I would be killing you, not kidnapping you,
Princess.”

She opened
her mouth to speak, to call him a liar and rage against his cruel lies, but
then closed it quickly without a word. There was no point in angering him,
she realized, trying to let the anger she felt wash away. Arriving at the
table, he stood her in front of one of the chairs and she immediately tried to
pull away from him. Her heart sank as she saw that it was fitted with a number
of thick leather straps, but that was the least of the problems she had with
the chair. In the center of its seat, she saw a long wooden protrusion,
slightly curved and standing upright as it waited for her. 

“No, please,”
she whimpered softly as he held tight to her arm.

“Princess, be
a good girl,” he responded softly.

“But why? Please,
can’t I just eat in peace?” she asked, her lower lip beginning to quiver.

“You need to
get used to the idea of having your holes filled whenever I please, little one,”
he answered, his eyes narrowing. “If you keep fighting me, I’ll shove it up
that tight ass of yours instead.”

Resigning
herself as she struggled to sniff back her sobs, she let him lower her down
toward the waiting shaft. She gasped as she felt it make contact with the lips
of her pussy. His fingers came into play, then, lightly opening the blossom of
her sex and guiding the wooden prong inside her. She grasped at the back of the
chair behind her with her bound hands as it filled her, wincing as she came to
rest on the seat with its uncomfortable sense of fullness. Jessica pressed her
booted feet into the floor to try and rest as little as possible against the
thick intruder in her pussy.

 Reaching
behind her again, he locked the ring on the back of the belt in place as it had
been for the interview. On the table in front of her, she saw an empty
plate and a wine glass. On each side of the plate, a silver cuff rested,
attached to the heavy table by a short chain.

“You said…
You said that, if I was good… that if I cooperated with you…”  Jessica’s
voice was cut off by a choking sob as he began to spread her right thigh wide,
toward the arm of the chair and a waiting leather strap. She came to rest
more firmly on the wooden prong, feeling it press deeper inside her as the
support of her foot was taken away. “Please, I’ll be good… you don’t need all
this.”

“I know I don’t
need it, Princess,” he chuckled softly as he buckled the strap around her
thigh, just above the knee. “If you’d prefer, though, we could get you back
into your pony gear and let you eat from the trough again.”

“No, please
no,” she sobbed, tears welling in her eyes as he spread and strapped the
other thigh, the short skirt riding up to bunch around her waist as her legs
were spread wide and forced to remain there. The spread of her legs shifted the
position of the wooden dildo inside her pussy again, letting it press harder
into her.

“Then just
focus on the moment, as I’ve told you,” he whispered in her ear as he
reached behind her to release the cuffs from her wrists, “and remember that it could
always be a lot worse than it is right now.”

Biting her
trembling lower lip, she brought her freed hands around in front of her,
rubbing her sore wrists for a moment, and then struggling with the
skirt.  He stood behind her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder as
she arranged the skirt as best she could with her legs spread. Without looking
up, she could feel his eyes on her, drinking in the sight of her.

“I’m going to
go get dinner.” He ruffled her hair. “When I get back, your hands should
be in those cuffs next to the plate. If they’re not, you don’t eat.”

Jessica
listened to him walk away, and then turned to see him step into one of the
walled off areas of the mill. With her captor out of sight, her hands
immediately went to the belt behind her back. She struggled with the lock,
and the hasp of the belt itself, but neither would budge. Squirming in the
seat, she tried to slip the belt and skirt down over her hips, but it was
definitely too tight to move. Her mind cried out in frustration; so close
to freedom, but kept from escape by just the belt. Giving up on escape for
now, she turned her attention to the cuffs on the table.  

“Fucking
bastard,” Jessica hissed as she held the cool cuff in her hand,
contemplating putting it on her wrist.

It was a meaningless
addition, really, her mind told her. Escape was no more impossible cuffed
to the table than her current condition, but she hated the thought of adding to
her confinement. But then, if she didn’t do it, she didn’t eat, and she
felt confident he would carry through on that promise. Swallowing her
revulsion, she closed the first cuff in place on her left wrist. Playing
out the length of the chain, she discovered that she could not reach her
mouth. She began to lean forward and then stopped abruptly as the chair’s
cruel prong pressed hard into the inside of her pussy from the motion.
 
Moaning softly, she reached across the plate
and closed the other cuff on her right wrist. Looking down over her body,
breasts rising and falling gently beneath the camouflage top, she tugged at the
straps on her thighs. Her booted feet swayed in the air, unable to reach the
ground.

A few moments
later, Jessica heard her captor returning, and then smelled the food that he
brought with him. Her stomach grumbled at the delicious
scents.  He set the new plate down on top of the bare one, and she
was reminded of the times that her father brought her to some of the nicer
restaurants in town. The food looked delicious; a small steak drizzled
with some kind of sauce, roasted spears of asparagus, and candied carrots.
 
Everything was cut into small pieces, and he
placed only a fork resting next to the plate.

“Dig in,
Princess.” He told her, sitting down next to her in the other chair, and
beginning to open a bottle of wine. “I know you’re famished.”

Jessica
forced herself to eat slowly, afraid that eating too quickly might make her
sick after the long period of hunger. With each bite, she brought the
chain to the table taut, trying to keep her need to bend forward to a minimum. She
held tight to the very end of the fork as she maneuvered the food between her
lips. Still, the wooden stake in her pussy was a constant irritant. She also
wanted to extend the dinner as long as possible, and avoid whatever less pleasant
scenario awaited her next. The food tasted as good as it looked and
smelled, and she chewed each bite slowly, luxuriating in the texture and
flavor. It was awkward eating in the cuffs, and she struggled to keep the
chains from dragging into the food, bending forward toward the table with each
bite.

“Drink up,
Princess.” He poured her glass full of a ruby-colored liquid with one
hand, and she tensed as his other hand moved to the inside of her thigh,
caressing it gently.  

Trying to
ignore the casual groping of her thigh, and the way his hand began to wander
down toward the place between her legs, she picked up the wine glass and took a
careful sip. The drink was strong, its rich warmth seeming to coat her
throat and fill up her nostrils with scents of blackberry and oak.

“Is that
wine?” she asked, taking another sip, trying to divert his wandering hand.

“It’s port,
actually, which is a kind of wine,” he answered, his hand moving to the
outside of her hip and up to her bare waist, fingers playing along the bottom
edge of her top. “Do you like it?”

“It’s not
like any wine I’ve had before,” she spoke quickly, a flutter running
through her belly as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of the shirt. “It’s
fruitier. I like it.”

“I’m
glad. You can have as much as you like.” The palm of his hand was now
flat against her stomach, slowly sliding upwards under the material of the tank
top. “What do you usually drink at those parties that made your father so
upset, Princess?”

“W-wine
coolers mostly,” she stuttered, placing the empty wine glass down on the
table as his hand moved up toward her breasts.  

Jessica
whined softly as his hand cupped her bare left breast beneath the shirt. She
jerked her hands in their cuffs reflexively, but he kept her pressed back
against the chair so she couldn’t reach. She felt him begin to play with
her nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Have I told
you how perfect a body you have, Princess?” He leaned in close, his voice
nearly a whisper. “Do you have any idea how much self control I’ve had to
exercise so far?”

“P-please…
please don’t do this…,” she sobbed, yanking at the cuffs in helpless
frustration as he lightly twisted her nipple.

“Just eat,
baby.” He smiled warmly, still cupping her breast in his hand, but not
pressing back any more. “I’m just enjoying myself.”

Sniffing back
tears as his hand continued to fondle her breast, she turned her attention back
to the food, trying to focus on it but unable to ignore his roaming hand. When
he re-filled the wine glass, she took it gratefully and drank it quickly. Exhausted
and humiliated, she yearned for the blessed release that she normally avoided
when she drank. As she ate and drank, he continued to explore her body
with his fingers. His hand was everywhere; on her face, on her hips, in
her hair, on her legs and then between them. She jerked against the
leather straps as his finger glided lightly along the lips of her pussy and to
the base of the prong that filled her.

“Don’t… Oh
God, please don’t…,” Jessica sobbed between bites of food, the plate
slowly clearing.

“Am I hurting
you, Princess?” he asked, his finger continued to play along her nether
lips.

“N-no,” she
sobbed, draining another glass of port, beginning to feel its effects.

“Then just
accept it as far better than what I could be doing to you,” he hissed, a
cold edge to his voice.

She finished
eating in silence, her pace slackening as she got down to the last bits of
food. She hated the feel of his hands on her body, the way she could do
nothing to stop him from touching her most private and intimate areas. But
she also realized that he was right. In her short time here, she’d learned
just how miserable he could make her life, just how much he could hurt and
torment her. She didn’t look forward to what might follow this
reprieve. He didn’t seem to object to her slower pace, seeming to be more
than content to grope and fondle her helpless body, refilling her glass
whenever she emptied it.  At long last, she finished the last on her
plate and set down her fork and knife.

“Did you enjoy
your dinner, Princess?” he asked, his hand on her inner thigh now.

“Yes. Thank
you.”

“Then let’s
get you ready for bed.”

“Oh yes,
please.  I’m so tired,” she nearly sobbed.

With the turn
of the keys, he released her wrists from the table. She didn’t resist as
he drew them back behind her again, locking them again in the familiar
handcuffs. Unbuckling the straps on her thighs, he placed her booted feet
back on the ground and then released her belt from the chair, helping her
slowly to her feet. She groaned as the dildo was slowly left behind,
gasping as her lips were allowed to close once more. Taking her first steps,
she could almost still feel it inside her. They walked silently back to the
post room, and she whimpered softly at the sight of the hay-covered floor and
the rough wooden post.

“But you
said… you said I could sleep on… on a bed…,” she sobbed softly as he moved
her to the post and wrapped a heavy leather collar around her neck, forcing her
up onto her toes, facing and up against the rough wood. “I was good. I did
what you wanted.”

“Shhh…” He
quieted her with a finger to her lips, and then picked up the black leather
mittens that she had worn earlier. “We’re just here to get you ready for bed. You
will be sleeping on a bed tonight. Just relax.”

Jessica
looked in fear at the leather mittens, and then felt him press the fingers of
her right hand back into the ball shape before wrapping them back in the tight
leather. Her body spasmed involuntarily as he enclosed her hand once more,
and then did the same to the other. She hadn’t been crazy enough to think
that the damned things wouldn’t be returning, but it was still demoralizing to
actually have them back in place. Removing the cuffs from her wrists, he
finished with the mitten attachments, locking their wrist straps.