As the blacksmith rivets the metal strip around my head, it is clear to me that we are in a different game, compared to the one we used to do with James. In a different galaxy, just to give a scale. But still I force myself to be brave and stand still as it is possible.
There is also a chain from the ceiling for me, and, as the Asian girl that is with me in this adventure, I'm ordered to strip.
The thought that I'm letting fall to the ground the only clothes that I possess runs in my skull like a jolt of energy. But I still do not see what other choice is left for me.
Turning my head a little I see that the other girl is completely naked, at this point. The blinds at the side of my face are hindering my vision and I find that looking around it requires turning my neck.
Looking at my companion, I see that her shoes had a little heel so when she loses them, she remains somewhat suspended by the harness to the point that she has to use the tips of her feet to balance.
The lady in black starts to appraise her like a specimen. She fondles her breast, squeezing her nips with her fingers, then she pulls up her arms to look at her armpits and uses her hands to inspect her ribcage.
Once she arrives at her belly she uses the crop to measure her girth.
Apparently satisfied, she walks behind her, prying open her butt to have a clear view of her hole.
During all of that, the bit in her mouth leaves the girl only some little sounds of protest.
A suppressed yelp of surprise is all that I can hear as the lady picks up the left leg of the horse girl to inspect her foot.
This leaves the poor girl to balance on just one foot.
After a close inspection, the lady in black calls for the blacksmith to look at the foot she is still keeping firmly in her hands.
There is no need for words as he writes something on the plant of her feet, using a pencil.
Finally she moves near me to inspect my body.
I feel defiled, treated like a piece of meat, but I have seen what they have done to the other girl, so I know what it will be, and it does not scare me much. In the gymnastics world, you are used to being appraised, by the coaches, by the judges, by the public. The thing that you have to keep in mind is they are not evaluating you, just what they can see of you. It's a big difference.
Yet, her movements are professional enough, her hands are hot on my skin, and I surprise myself wishing she indulges more on my body, yearning for contact.
The ponygirl scenario was a huge boost for James and me. After the initial surprise and all the escapades around the city, I found it very exciting to prance around the apartment in my full regalia. After a while, he provided me with a collar, shaped to fit my neck and blocked me from moving it sideways. It had my name etched on it.
Martina.
I had yet to spill my beans with him, and he was not very keen on prodding my past.
I had told him that I was recovering from a break up, that David had offered me a place to stay, and that I did not plan to return to my country anytime soon.
It was obviously enough for him, and as a miracle I did not even have to show my passport in his presence, so I was Martina for him. Just Martina.
We hit the gym together, and he introduced me to a lot of events. I even had the chance to exchange numbers or to forge new relationships, but, for the sake of my own security, I took the role of his silent partner.
Sometimes, while he was at work, I still perused my real name on the internet, searching for the chance that the world has finally started to forget me.
And one day, I was in for a terrible surprise. My coach had been indicted for the death of my roommate, finally. But his line of defense was, in short, that I had been the sole responsible for the drugs and then the death.
Since I was not there to defend myself, evidence piled up against me, and finally, taking in account the fact that I was nowhere to be found, an international warrant for my arrest was issued. That very day, I picked up my phone, the last contact I had with my past life, and plunged it in the garbage shaft of the building.
I had clearly closed myself in a corner, and I was worried that, if I ever gathered the nerve to tell James the whole story, I would have faced a worse destiny than being on the run.
The lady and the blacksmith leave both of us there, in the stable, chained to the ceiling by some steel harnesses that do not allow us to talk to each other.
Out of shame, the other girl tries to cover herself using an arm to hide her breasts and a hand to shield her sex
I'm more interested in maintaining my balance and so I leave my arms at my sides. I have decided that there is no other way to deal with all of this, beside enduring all that will be thrown at me.
As we are both naked I look at her, her skin is olive, and her tits are less prominent than mine. I would say Asian, chances are that even without the bits blocking our tongues we would not be able to speak to each other anyway. But then again, when we arrived the Mistress addressed both of us in English, so there would be a chance for a conversation.
Waiting for the next thing, I find myself longing for the sexual fantasies that me and James entertained in the Emirates.
This makeshift stable is a stern reality compared to them.
Oblivious of my legal troubles, James was introducing me to his favorite flavor of sex, the kinky one.
So, more often than not, the hijab was a tool to hide my restraints than a limitation due to the culture.
I remember going to a cinema to see a film, completely dressed in latex underneath the thing.
It was something that enhanced my libido, just the idea to be bound in the middle of a crowd was maddening. And when finally we had the chance, me and James ended up fucking like rabbits.
So, one fateful day, we were in his apartment, and he was leading me from one room to the other using a leash connected to my "Martina" collar. He had put me into the full dress, bells included. All the bells, and I was going around with the spreader bar spacing my knees. He had already taken me from behind and explored my sex with his mouth and I was thinking of the prospect of being free and to have another round on the bed.
The ankle cuffs kept 7 inch platform shoes firmly stuck to my feet, thus enhancing the wiggle of my butt as I pranced around the flat.
In time he had changed the clips of my restraints to padlocks, just because. I do not need to tell you the feeling I got every time I heard the click of a lock closing on me.
This was also for two reasons: the first was that with a certain amount of wiggling I had learned how to open my cuffs, and second, he thought it was more secure and sexy that way.
So the head harness, cuffs and collar were firmly secured on me, along with the bells on my nipples and the clips on my labia.
Keys were in his possession, and the bit in my mouth was making me a beautiful beast.
As I said, he had already serviced the beast a couple of times, one with his mouth and one with his cock, from behind, against the living room table.
He was going about naked so I had a clear sense of his state of arousal and of how much he was ready for another round.
I had been drinking mostly water, with my gag on, and I was opposing my resistance to being led to the bedroom while, as a matter of fact, it was exactly the place where I wanted to go.
Bedroom meant that he had to loosen some of the things on me to use me, so I was hopeful that at least those damned shoes would have to go.
The intercom rang, twice.
It must have been something very important for the doorman to ring twice.
James left my leash and ran to the intercom.
I trailed behind him just to listen to the conversation.
"The police, looking for you. They are taking the elevator."
Suddenly I wanted to tell James all the truth, but there was no time.
At the same moment, he had very different thoughts. To be found, albeit in his own home, by the police, indulging in what could be considered an offense to decor and religion, was very bad for him.
"Do you trust me?" He asked.
