The Mayor's Daughter II: Stablemate by Will Versuch
The long awaited sequel to The Mayor's Daughter: Draft Pony!
Jessica has finally passed her challenge, elevated from draft pony to show pony. She still struggles to come to terms with this new life, a life where her waking and sleeping life are filled with bondage, confinement, and punishment when she breaks the rules. She knows, though, that it will be a better life now that her days as a draft pony are behind her.
But this all changes when a new girl is brought into the Officer’s mill. For now, the new girl is the draft pony, filling the role that Jessica left behind. But for how long? Jessica can quickly see that the new girl is stronger than her, faster than her. In a fair competition, Jessica knows that she would lose. What will Jessica do to ensure her place as the show pony? How far will she go to protect her newly won status.
This book, the second installment of The Mayor’s Daughter Trilogy, features strict bondage and pony play as Jessica and the new girl struggle within the confines of the Officer’s mill. It picks up right where the last book ends off, exploring Jessica’s new life as a show pony. Fans of the first book will find the same level of detailed, intricate bondage in the sequel, but with the added psychological element of the interplay between Jessica and the new ponygirl.
Jessica's shoulders ached as she stood with her upper body thrust between the rungs of the ladder before her. The leather sheath imprisoning her arms behind her was drawn up almost vertically above her back, attached to some higher point of the ladder that she could not see. Even with her legs spread wide and ankles locked in place, the plug in her ass stretched her tender flesh painfully. She could feel the soft swish of the plug's horsehair tail against the insides of her bare thighs with every shake of her tortured body. The thick intruder inside her pussy, also held firmly in place by the leather strap between her legs, was no less disturbing an addition to the horrid outfit. She could feel it pressing out against the walls of her vagina.
She didn't know how long she had stood there, her only company the pathetic sound of her own crying as it echoed through the barn. The sound of it was alien to her, seeming to come from someone or something else. Her feet ached, imprisoned as they were in the perilously formed boots. She marveled at how she had almost grown accustomed to the steep slant of the metal plates inside them that forced her to stand almost directly on her toes. She vividly remembered her first attempt at walking in them, her attempted flight from this house of horrors. It had been a shocking combination of pain and imbalance that resulted in her lying on the cold cement floor at the feet of her captor.
Twice during this time that she had been left alone and bound, she had lost her grip on the metal bit pressed tightly between her teeth. Both times, she had been rewarded for her lack of attention by the plunge of the foul thing diving into her throat and making her gag. By the time she'd managed to work it back into place, she had been a coughing, crying mess of tears and snot. She could still see the pool of it on the floor beneath her as she struggled to control her breathing.
Breathing. Such a simple thing. In her life before this house of horrors, she could not remember a time when she had ever even given it a thought. Now, the need for air seemed to be her constant companion. The tight leather corset around her waist compressed her lungs, making every shallow breath an effort. This corset glistened in its pure white, but its bright appearance was a lie. While all of her current ‘show pony’ gear was white, it was no less a struggle to endure than the black leather she had worn previously as a draft pony. She panted hard through her teeth, clenched as they were so tightly on the metal bar between them.
Sierra. His ponygirl. It was what he called her now, when he wasn't calling her princess. In his sick, twisted mind, she was something less than human now, an animal to be trained and mistreated to strike his perverted fancy. In her current position, she could see the glaring red light of one of the cameras, looking up at her from the floor and telling her that it was recording her every move. She knew that there were others. There were always others, broadcasting her torment to the deviants of the world who paid to watch her suffer.
She had no idea how long she had been a prisoner in this old, abandoned mill. Since she had been abruptly torn from her life, she had been outside only once. It had been dark then, but she had no idea how many times it had been dark and light either before or after that one visit to the world beyond. She shivered at the memory, the vision of the coffin that had awaited her there flashing before her mind's eye. It had inspired her, motivating her to finally pass his cruel test after so many failures.
Her reward for passing the test had been rape. He had declared her a ‘show pony’ after her success, thereby making her worthy, apparently, of thrusting his cock inside her. She felt her anger rise at the memory of it, unable to fight him as she was bound to the bed and taken. And the morning after had only brought her a return to the pony harness and strapping that she now wore, white instead of black, but no less restrictive.
Jessica began to cry, not for the first time, as the enormity of her helplessness felt as though it were pressing in on her from all sides. Her thighs trembled from the strain of their spread position. She tugged at the cuffs that held them in place, the hoof-like soles of her boots clattering against the hard floor as the effort brought her no relief. She whimpered as she jerked her bound arms against their own restraint, but the effort served only to awaken the sleeping muscles there. She felt shock-waves of pins and needles rush through them. She cried out as she twisted in her bonds to avoid the cramps that began to knot up in her arms and shoulders.
How could her father have done this to her? How could he have let her fall victim to the man who'd captured her? Could he really be so concerned with his political career that he would sacrifice his own daughter, his flesh and blood, just because he was afraid she would do something to embarrass him? A part of her refused to believe it. She couldn't believe it. This was her father! But then, another part knew the truth. That part had seen the coldness in him, had seen glimpses of what he was capable of doing to achieve his ends. And what her captor had shown her on the news had told her the truth.
Jessica heard the door to the mill open with a whine of rusted hinges. Her body tensed instantly at this signal of her captor's entrance. Moments before, she would have sworn that she longed for his return, simply as a break in the monotony of her long bondage. But the actual thought of him being present in the room again sent an icy chill down her spine. As miserable as she was, and as uncomfortable as this position was, she dreaded the thought of what might happen when he arrived. What new horrors did he have in store for her? Every time that she thought that her suffering could not get worse, he found new ways to make her realize just how very wrong she was.
From across the room, Jessica could hear the familiar sound of heavy boots on the floor as he slowly approached. Along with the sound of his walking, she could hear the occasional clink of metal and chain. Her body physically recoiled at the sound, her mind wondering what new devices and cruelties he had in store for her. Each footstep sent an involuntary shudder through her body. She could feel goose bumps rising on her bare flesh as she could do nothing but wait for his arrival. She had thought that she didn't have any tears left to cry, but hot tears welled in her eyes once more as she waited for him to arrive, imprisoned against the ladder.
Abruptly, the overhead lights turned on. Jessica squeezed her eyes closed as the bright light assaulted them.
"What the hell?" The voice was not her captor's. Jessica had not realized, until this very moment, how much she yearned to hear the sound of another human being. It was a woman's voice, and one she had not heard before this moment. Jerking in her bonds, she struggled desperately to turn and look, to see who was there. The heavy leather collar on her neck, however, would not allow her to see, forcing her to remain focused down on the pool of her saliva and tears on the floor.
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