The Mayor's Daughter: Draft Pony Page 5

  She tried to make sense of what was happening to her. The things that her captor had said to her made sense in and of themselves. Her father was a very wealthy man, often proclaiming himself the wealthiest man in the county. It made sense that a kidnapper would choose her as his victim. But why all of the rest? Though he claimed that it was part of his plan to ensure that her father would pay, she knew that it had to be more than that. It was obvious that the sick bastard enjoyed what he was doing to her. In her mind, she could still feel the touch of his hard cock, even through his jeans, and could still hear the lust in his voice when he talked about her body.

  A thought occurred to her while she tried to make sense of it all, and it hit her like a freight train. While the policeman had been careful to put on a mask when he turned on the cameras, to hide his identity, she suddenly realized that he had never made any attempt to hide his face from her. New tears stung her eyes, and she began to sob as she realized exactly what that meant. There was no way that he was going to let her go. She had seen his face. Horror and despair overwhelmed her as she realized that if she didn’t find a way to escape, he was going to kill her.

  “No! Fuck you! No! Don’t!” she screamed in rage and frustration when the classical music was, once again, replaced by the hissing static sound. “Somebody help me!”

  Jessica raged against her bonds and the cot as the light began to flash again, ignoring the protests of her chafed wrists and ankles as she released some of her pent-up sorrow in the hopeless exertion. She fought the cot and its hold on her as the lights and sounds reached their climax once more before blinking off again.

  “Please, don’t do this,” Jessica sobbed, her voice hoarse and throat raw from her screams. “Don’t hurt me.”

  “Three… Two… One…,” the recorded voice intoned again, followed by another heavy click.

  The second burst of electricity was no easier to handle than the first, even though she knew it was coming. Again, her body jerked against the cot in response to the attack as it coursed through her flesh. When the agony passed, she collapsed again, her arms and legs twitching as she panted for air.

  “Why are you doing this to me!?” she cried out in frustration, her voice cracking. “I never hurt anyone! I’m a good girl!”

  Jessica’s only answer was the return of the classical music, and she sobbed as she lay back on the cot. She wondered how long her captor had been gone, and how long it would be until his return. Her whole body was exhausted from the long torment, and it yearned for sleep, and yet her mind would not stop racing. The soft music that played seemed to be a constant reminder of the electric shocks, and her mind latched on to every slight pause in it to anticipate the beginning of another attack. She struggled to stop thinking about the electricity and to concentrate on finding a way to escape, but every squeak of the springs beneath her dragged her thoughts back to the purpose of her bed for the night.

  Somewhere in a haze between sleep and waking, Jessica must have fallen asleep again, because she woke once more with a start. This time, the light had already reached strobe intensity, blinking rapidly above her as she woke. Instantly locked in terror, she tensed as the light and sound show stopped once more.

  Another countdown. Another click, and then more pain. This became the pattern of the night for Jessica. The night became a nightmarish tableau of her body’s desperate attempts at sleep, interspersed by the terror and pain of the buildup and attack of the electricity. Sometimes she would wake when the music stopped, and other times only when the current rushed through her body. But always her sleep was interrupted by the same pattern of buildup and then assault.

  As the horrible night dragged on, Jessica felt her exhaustion grow more and more real, until she yearned so badly to sleep that she cried. She thought no longer of the motivation of her abductor, or of what her fate might be. All of her world was focused on desperately grabbing whatever sleep she could find between the attacks on her tortured body. Adrift in a sea of torment, Jessica struggled to cling to hope as the night crawled by.

  Chapter Four

  An Unwilling Pony

  Jessica woke again, and immediately tensed in anticipation of another searing jolt of electricity. This time, while there was light, it was a steady one in place of the strobe. She realized that she had been woken not by the beginning of another period of assault, but by the weight of her captor sitting down on the cot next to her. She saw that he was dressed in black as he had been the day before. Once again, his features were obscured by a ski mask. The sight of him filled her with both dread and relief. His return signaled the end of her night of horrors, but she had no idea what the day would bring.

  “Good morning, princess,” he whispered as her eyes opened, reaching down to run his hands over her bare breasts, picking up right where he had left off the night before. “I imagine you didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?”

  “Please… just let me sleep,” Jessica sobbed, exhaustion filling her to the brim. “I’m so tired.”

  “If you take well to your training today, I will let you get some sleep tonight,” he answered, continuing to caress her body. “Would you like that?”

  Biting her lower lip to hold back tears, not trusting her voice not to break once more, she nodded in response to his question. At first, she was grateful when he removed his hands from her breasts, but then she cried out in terror when she saw him take a knife from his pocket, flipping open its cruel-looking blade.

  “Don’t!” she cried out, looking away from the wicked blade and pulling at her bonds. “Don’t kill me!”

  “Relax, princess,” he cooed softly, and she felt the cool, flat edge of the blade between her breasts, goose bumps rising on her flesh as he slowly slid it along her skin and under the material of her bra. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “Yes, you are,” she whimpered, wincing as she felt him turn the blade upwards and easily slice through the bra.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked, and she saw his eyes narrow slightly as he cut the two upper straps of the bra as well.

  “I’ve seen your face, so you have to kill me,” she sobbed, overcome with new tears. “You hid it from the pictures… from everyone else… but I’ve seen it. You won’t let me go, no matter what my father gives you.”

  “You’re right, princess. You have seen my face,” he spoke softly, the tone of his voice changing slightly as he tugged the remnants of the bra out from under her, and then tossed it in the bucket that held the rest of her clothing. “But I have no intention of killing you.”

  “Right. Sure. You’ll just let me go after you get your money, so I can identify you.” Jessica’s voice sounded small and distant to her as she spoke the words, keeping her eyes locked on her captor as he moved down the cot a little, sliding the flat of the blade down over her trembling belly.

  “I’m hiding my face from them, so that they don’t recognize me before I get my money,” he replied, breaking eye contact with her to watch as he slipped the blade of the knife under the right waistband of her panties. “Once I have what I want, I can let you go and go somewhere where it won’t matter if they know it was me.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Jessica whispered softly, a shiver running down her spine. She watched him slice through the material of her panties and then move the blade over to the other side of her hip.

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe, princess.” His eyes looked cold as he sliced the other side of the panties, and the chains on her feet rattled as she drew her thighs together as close as the bonds allowed.

  “Wh-what… what are you… Are you going to… to…” Jessica began, but couldn’t finish the thought as he grabbed the remains of her panties and yanked them out from under her, exposing her neatly trimmed pussy.

  “Whatever you believe my intentions and plans are, princess, you have much more important things to be worrying about right now,” he spoke sternly as he tossed the remains of the panties in the bucket. “Last night, I a
bducted Jessica Miller, but as of this moment, that has changed, and you had better begin to adjust.”

  “Adjust to what?” She rattled her chains, watching as he tossed a lit match into the bucket, the contents immediately bursting into flames. “I am Jessica Miller.”

  From under the cot, he produced a coffee cup, and she could see steam rising from inside it. He dipped a thin wooden tongue depressor into the mug and it came out coated in a thick waxy substance. A fluttering quiver ran through her belly as he began to apply the warm wax to the thin patch of hair above her vagina. When the area was coated, he put the mug back down and then covered the wax with a thin piece of cloth. She never experienced waxing before, but she immediately recognized it for what it was, and trembled in anticipation.

  “Please… what are you doing?” she sobbed as he reached under the cot again. “Why are you doing this? How is this going to get my father to give you money?”

  “This isn’t about the money. This is the beginning of your training.” He sat back up, holding a pair of what looked like black, padded leather mittens, only she could see no thumbholes and they had wrist straps with gleaming silver buckles. “And for the next few days, you are going to need to focus on one thing and one thing only: getting through it.”

  “But why?” Jessica sobbed as he tugged the first mitten onto her left hand. “Why are you doing this?”

  The space inside the mitten forced her to make a fist, curling her fingers into a ball as he pressed it into place. When it was fully over her hand, she watched him turn the key in her handcuff and loosen it enough to slip it further up her forearm. With the cuff out of the way, he strapped the mitten in place on her wrist, tightly closing its buckle and then locking it in place with a small padlock. The whole series of actions seemed strange to her as he worked. He was easily over two hundred pounds, and she barely cleared a hundred. He was definitely stronger than she was. Yet he took no chances at all as he bound and manipulated her. He treated her as if she was a real threat that could actually overpower him if he gave her the slightest opportunity. She realized with despair that unless this changed, her chances of escape were impossibly slim.

  While he repeated his procedure with her right hand, she looked at the left. The mitten was too big to fit through even the widened handcuff but she tried anyways. Inside, there was no flexibility for her hand, and no room to move it. Effectively, her hand was now a club, and a padded one at that. When her right hand was rendered equally useless to her, he rose from the bed and moved to kneel next to her feet, picking up a strange-looking boot from the floor next to him.

  “You… You like this, don’t you…,” she whispered softly, trying to remain calm and fight back tears as he removed the cuff from her right ankle. “You like doing these things to me… tying me up.”

  “That, I do, princess,” he replied as he slid the boot onto her foot.

  She paused as he slipped the new footwear into place, wanting to pick her words carefully. It was obvious that she aroused him, and she wondered if she could turn that to her advantage, but she felt like she needed to be careful. As her foot slid into the boot, she discovered that its interior was stiff and hard, containing some kind of plate that forced her foot and toes to remain on point. As he began to lace the boot in place up her calf, its confining grip grew stronger, molding her foot to its shape. Looking down over her body, she could now make out the hoof-like shape of the front of the boot.

  “Why do you want me to be a pony?” Jessica tried to remain calm as he finished lacing the boot in place, quickly recognizing that her hands and now her feet were being taken from her.

  “For two reasons, really,” he answered as he unlocked her other foot and began to put a matching boot in place on it. “First of all, it’s quite an arousing sight for me. Your body alone is enough to drive me wild, but seeing you bound takes me to a whole other place.”

  His words reminded her of the fact that she was now naked, and that there was nothing she could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to her. A thin trail of smoke still rose from the bucket, which had held the clothes of her former life. Jessica felt him make the final tugs on her other boot, her foot held now in the awkward pointing position. As he stood and moved back to the head of her prison bed, she lifted her foot to inspect the new footwear. The front of it, as expected, was in the shape of a horse’s hoof, but the back of it was unexpected. Though her foot was held in the shape of a high-heeled shoe, there was no heel on the back. The heel of her foot would be suspended, she guessed about five or six inches off the ground, with only her toes for support.

  “And what’s the other reason?” she asked quietly as he sat down next to her again and reached down to run the tips of his fingers over the cloth and wax that he had placed earlier.

  “The other reason is simply a matter of convenience.” She watched, a tremor of fear running through her as he took hold of the top of the cloth. “If your father is not cooperative after the first set of pictures, I’ll need to up the ante with him, and this will be an effective way to do that.”

  Jessica cried out in pain as he tore the strip of cloth from her body. The pain was intense but, gratefully, sudden and not long lasting. More than the pain, she detested the helplessness. Her whole body ached with exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and wake to discover it was all a bad dream, but at the same time she was so tense that she couldn’t relax at all, terrified of what was going to come next. She was surprised when he reached to her hands and unlocked the cuffs on her wrists.

  The moment her second wrist came free, Jessica pushed herself up from the cot and launched herself onto her feet. She imagined herself racing toward the door, knowing that she had to be faster than her bulky captor was. She didn’t pause to think of the fact that she was naked save for the gloves and boots, or how hard it would be to open a door. She considered only the fact that she had been unlocked from the cot and that her limbs were free.

  Reality was catastrophically different from her imagination. Her first step left her wobbling, and the second had her falling forward. Up on her toes inside the strange boots, and moving quickly, she could not find any semblance of balance. Before taking a third step, her legs came out from under her and she collapsed to the floor, landing hard on her hip and catching herself with the padded mittens. Scrambling up onto her knees, she started to crawl away until she felt her captor’s rough hand in her hair again. She cried out as he jerked her painfully backwards, dragging her back up to sit on his lap on the edge of the cot, her useless legs kicking out in front of her. She could feel his hard cock straining to burst through his pants as her bare ass squirmed on his lap.

  “Poor little princess,” he laughed softly, his breath hot on her ear as he leaned in close to whisper to her. “You’re going to have to learn to walk before you can run.”

  “Please… please don’t be mad,” she whimpered as she realized how foolish it had been to try an escape, and dreading what consequences it might bring. “I won’t try to run again.”

  “I’m not mad, princess,” he spoke softly, and she quivered with dread as he reached under the bed to gather up what appeared to be a bundle of black leather straps that he placed on her lap. “The fault is my own. Any good trainer knows that if you give a filly a chance to run, she’ll take it. The important thing is making sure she doesn’t get too far.”

  “But why…,” Jessica started, and then paused to collect herself, feeling that she was losing more of herself with every passing moment and desperate to hold tight to what remained of her sanity. “But why a horse?”

  “Horses lead lives of servitude, princess,” he answered as he began to wrap the leather straps around her torso, revealing it to be a harness of some kind. “And mankind’s considerable creative energies have developed quite devious and effective ways to control them. It’s quite natural to apply those tried and true principles to other disciplines.”

  “I’m just a girl, though,” she whimpered
, her lip trembling as he crossed the straps of the harness between her breasts, making an ‘x’ with a silver ring at its center. “You don’t need… you don’t need all this.”

  “You’ll forget all of that shortly, beautiful,” he hissed softly, continuing to buckle the straps of the harness in place around her back and shoulders, the leather digging into the soft flesh of her belly as he tightened it. “By the time daddy pays up, your life will be so much simpler than it used to be. You should thank me, really.”

  “Oh sure,” she spit the words out venomously as he finished with the harness, and she winced as he gave each of its many dangling rings testing tugs. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Do I detect a little sarcasm there, princess?” he laughed as he reached under the cot and withdrew a short, thick leather band. “But you see, that’s exactly what I mean. All of the stress of your life is now gone. All you have to think about now is serving. No more pesky life decisions to make.”

  “But I liked my life.” Jessica felt new tears slips from her eyes, and then stiffened as he wrapped the wide band around her neck, her mittened hands instinctively reaching up to it. “What? What is that?”

  “It’s called a posture collar, princess, and it will be good for you,” he explained as he buckled it in place. The soft but firm leather covered her neck from sternum to chin, cradling the line of her jaw and holding it firmly in place. As he locked it on her, she discovered that she could no longer either turn her head or look down.

  Lost in a sea of hopelessness, she began to sob wholeheartedly again, bare breasts heaving as she gave in to her despair. She felt, rather than saw, her captor drawing her right arm behind her back, bending it at the elbow and then pulling her hand up between her shoulder blades. There was the click of a lock as the hand was secured in place. Her whole body quivered as she cried, not resisting as he brought her left hand up to match the uncomfortable position of the right.