Pathways To Submission Tania Pt 05

Chapter 21

I follow the other Fillies' example and help myself to something from the buffet laid out on the table. I later learn that Green and Pink have prepared tonight's buffer, and that the Fillies take turns to prepare a buffet on Monday nights. The four Fillies who chose the whip or cane for their punishment are still careful about moving about and they seem reluctant to sit down. I'm glad I switched my choice of punishment. Nine strokes of the cane on my arse would have left me unable to enjoy the rest of the evening.

Throughout the evening I notice that each of the other Fillies is submissive to her respective minder, even where there is a family or marital relationship. I suppose that should be expected given what being a pony girl requires, but it makes me feel more comfortable when the others see me defer to Mistress Lyn. It also creates a common bond between the eight of us. The minders and the masked overseers sit on one side of the room socialising and only briefly interact with our group.

"Are you related to Stella," I ask Green.

"Be careful, Red," replies Green. "You must call her Mistress Stella when you speak about her, or you may incur a punishment. And yes, we are related. She's my aunt."

"When I saw you together at The Manor yesterday I thought you might have been mother and daughter," I respond.

"Sshh! You mustn't talk about yesterday," replies Green. "I don't know what was discussed, but it clearly isn't something a Filly is allowed to know about. Being too curious about what goes on at The Manor can get you into deep trouble."

"Oh! Sorry. And thanks for the warning."

"That's alright. You aren't the first person to think Mistress Stella and I are mother and daughter. I suppose in some ways she is my mother. She has looked after me since I was fourteen years old. I have no recollection of my real parents. They died when I was only three years old."

"That's a coincidence," I reply. "I was separated from my parents when I was fourteen. I grew up in an orphanage not far from here."

"We are all orphans of a sort," adds Blue. "Some of us have parents who died, others have been removed from them by the courts. I think only orphans get selected to join the pony club. I don't know why."

"But you have your uncle as a minder, and Green has her aunt," I reply.

"That's true, but Green and I spent several years living in an orphanage before our respective relative took us in."

"So did you know each other before you joined the pony club?" I ask.

"Not really," replies Green. "We lived at the same orphanage, but our age difference meant Blue and I had very little contact with each other. Even now, we only get to socialise with each other on a Monday night."

"Yes," adds Black. "Have you noticed that when we are at The Manor, we are never able to talk with each other. We are gagged as soon as we arrive, and our half-hour breaks are timed so that they never overlap."

"But you three were at Mistress Lyn's party the other Tuesday night," I say.

There's a sudden silence as though I've said something wrong. The three of them are looking puzzled. Suddenly Black shakes her head, and smiles.

"Yes. Yes. We were there. I remember now," says Black. "We were there with three of the members from The Manor. Red was the waitress."

"Oh! Yes," says Blue as though a fog has lifted from her mind.

"They've used that damn wand," mutters Green.

"Wand?" I ask.

"It's a like a magician's wand, but it has a bright light at one end. They wave it in front of your eyes. When that happens you suddenly start forgetting whatever it was that they don't want you to remember."

"Not so much forget, as simply no longer care about it," says Blue. "Has your minder ever used the wand on you, Red?"

"No," I reply. "But my husband has a similar device that he uses on me from time to time."

"That's how they control us," whispers Yellow, who has been listening to our conversation. "We're being brainwashed or hypnotised, or something like that."

"Ssshh!" cautions Navy. "Our conversations are probably being monitored. Why else would we be allowed to talk together once a week. Always assume someone from The Manor is listening and watching you. If you prove too troublesome, then you might suffer the same fate as the two missing Fillies."

"Then how are we going to find out what is happening to us?" I ask.

"Their wand tampers with your mind," says Yellow. "But it isn't a permanent loss of memory. As you saw just now, whatever they try to block can be restored if something jogs your memory. Write notes to yourself and leave them somewhere where you will find them later."

"Have you succeeded in remembering things from your notes?" I ask.

"No," sighs Yellow. "I remember writing notes to myself but I never seem able to find them."

My contented feeling at being a part of the pony club is rapidly waning as a new vision of all the possible dangers runs through my mind. Mistress Lyn has already warned me about the risks of allowing members of The Manor to know my real identity. And then there is the mystery of the two missing Fillies, who may or may not have been kidnapped. I can see that several of the other Fillies are feeling the same way. But what can any of us do about it? My contract with The Manor and the pony club has a big financial penalty if I break my contract before my initial twelve months indenture expires.

Our conversation is interrupted when Black's husband comes over to us and demands that Black give him a blow-job. There's no embarrassment around the room at Black and her husband engaging in sex. I wonder whether my lack of reaction is natural, or if my ready acceptance is something that has been imposed on my mind. Unfortunately none of us have time to ponder these issues as the three overseers come over to us, each with a wand in their hand.

"Did you have a good time this evening?" asks Mistress Lyn, as she drives me home a short while later.

"Yes, Mistress," I reply. "The punishment was bearable, and it was nice to be able to talk to the other Fillies."

"What did you talk about?" asks Mistress.

"Umm... Nothing much. Just girl talk," I say, glancing at my wedding ring and wondering how it got onto the wrong hand. Why do I have a nagging feeling it means something.

Chapter 22

The rest of my week follows what is becoming a regular pattern. There's plenty of housework at Mistress Lyn's place during the day, and in the evening Tom gets randy when he sees my caned arse. Although I try to avoid earning a caning, Mistress Lyn invariably discovers some misdemeanour that results in several strokes of her cane. Given Tom's response to my abused arse, I am content with how my life is turning out.

I continue with my daily runs to stay fit, and I keep practising carrying a tray in my harness. My efforts are rewarded when Mistress Lyn says that this Saturday I will be on the noon to nine pm shift. That means I will be outdoors until four-thirty, and indoors after that. Any lingering objections Tom may have had to my arrangement with Mistress Lyn and my job at The Manor seem to have vanished. He is a completely different person to the man I knew only a few weeks ago. He not only accepts my submission to Mistress Lyn, but even takes advantage of my perversions to satisfy those of his own. My new nipple rings are a regular feature in our sex games. I'm so happy that things have turned out this way.

My only nagging feeling of unease is that my wedding ring is on the wrong hand. Neither my work at Mistress Lyn's house, nor at The Manor, requires me to remove my wedding ring. There is no explanation why it suddenly moved from my left to right hand. I think back to last Saturday, and I distinctly recall the ring was on my left hand when we left The Manor. But by Tuesday morning it was on my right hand. That means something happened on Monday that I must have forgotten about. Monday was the day I got my nipple rings, and then worked at Mistress Lyn's house in the afternoon. Monday evening all the Fillies met at Mistress Stella's house to receive punishment for the penalty points we had accumulated the previous Saturday. After that we partied for a while, before Mistress Lyn brought me home. It was a busy day, but I think I can recall everything. Well, perhaps not the partying bit. I recall having fun socialising with the other Fillies, but I can't remember much of what we talked about.

But why can't I remember what we talked about? Alcohol and drugs are strictly forbidden to us, and I have faithfully obeyed that rule. It is highly unlikely anyone spiked my drink, so there must be another explanation. I resolve to keep my wedding ring on my wrong hand until I can fathom out the reason.

"Stop daydreaming, Tania," says Mistress when I suddenly halt my dusting of her hallway.

"Sorry, Mistress," I reply, knowing that I've now incurred another stroke of her cane.

Both Mistress Lyn and the overseers at The Manor are very enthusiastic about awarding punishments for the slightest mistake or inattention on my part. It forms part of the regular conditioning to the strict regime that is imposed on me and the other Fillies. I don't necessarily like receiving punishments, but I accept is as part of my normal routine. Since the punishments invariably lead, one way or another, to plenty of mind-blowing sex, I don't want the regime to change. I suppose I must be a dirty pervert for liking this life, but I can't imagine wanting any other lifestyle.

Mistress Lyn drives me to The Manor on Saturday. Mistress Chris is the steward on duty, and she changes me into my outfit. I see Pink while I'm in the changing room, but I am already gagged by the time she comes in for her break. We can only acknowledge each other with our eyes. My first two stints are outside, doing the same sort of fetching and carrying I did last week. I earn fifty dollars in tips, but no trips to the mens' locker room this week.

After my half hour break, Mistress Chris restores my bonds and cuts two tiny slits in my latex suit in line with my nipples. She eases my nipples and rings through the slits so that they are exposed for all to see. The suit squeezes my nipples hard and the feeling is strangely erotic.

"Flash your rings at the members and you should earn a lot of tips," says Mistress Chris through my earphones.

Her final addition to my outfit is to clip on one of the dreaded trays. Almost as an afterthought she clips a bottle opener to one of my nipple rings and a can opener on the other. The weight drags on my nipples but the pain is just about bearable. Not that I can complain, and even if I could, there won't be anybody interested in listening to a complaint from a Filly.

I'm sent to the main bar and spend the next two hours ferrying drinks between the bar and wherever members are sat. The two openers on my nipples are a money spinner for me. I deliver the ordered bottles and cans of drink with the lids still sealed. Not only does that help me keep the contents from spilling, but it gives the member the treat of tweaking my nipple and ring while he opens his drink. The tips aren't large but they are numerous. As usual the tip is shoved into my cunt. It is fortunate that the barman regularly removes my tips from my cunt and places them in a jar with a red marker on the label. I suspect he is eager to provide this service to the Fillies, as he gets a good feel of our cunts in the process. By the end of my third stint, I've made nearly two hundred dollars in tips. Before I go for my break, the barman counts my tips and converts the money into larger notes. He rolls up the notes and pushes them into my cunt, having a good grope before letting me go.

After my break I'm sent to a different lounge where lady members are among the guests. Yellow is finishing her spell of duty in this room, and gives me a wink as she departs.

Chapter 23

My duties are similar in here to those required in the larger men-only lounge. I ferry drinks and food from the bar and kitchen to the guests. The workload is light and the tips are meagre. By eight o'clock the room is almost empty of members.

"Red. Report to the dungeon. Understood?" comes the robotic voice over my earphones.

I respond with a 'yes' signal and go down to the basement. The grille door at the entrance to the dungeon is closed and I stand patiently waiting for the door to open. A few minutes later, three women who were in the lounge I just left come up behind me. The door opens at their arrival and they guide me into the dimly lit corridor beyond. We pass through two more doors until we arrive in what I presume is the main dungeon. Various frames and hoists are positioned around the room. Some of the devices I see are useless while I'm bound as I am. I've no idea what these three women intend, and from their behaviour I suspect they aren't sure either.

I can't hear their discussion, but one of women eventually seems to take charge. I'm lead over to a dangling chain and my arm-binder is hooked to it. A winch controlled from the wall raises the chain so that my arms are pulled upwards, forcing me to lean forward. The bottle and can openers on my nipple rings are replaced with oval shaped weights. The weights are heavier than the openers, and they are quite painful to bear. The woman then produces a vibrator and proceeds to tease my clit until my juices are flowing freely. I'm torn between the pain of my bondage and the wonderful pleasure rippling through my innards. The three women take turns in bringing me to an orgasm before moving onto a threesome between themselves.

I still receive plenty of attention while they satisfy their own lust. Periodically one of them comes over to me and teases my clit with her hand or her tongue. I manage a couple more orgasms before we are done. Although I have no means of knowing the time, I estimate that I'm due to go off-duty in a short while. However the women show no sign of releasing me. By now my arms are becoming painful from being held in the same position for so long. My nipples are feeling numb and my corset is restricting my breathing. But I have managed so far, and there is no reason I can't continue to do so for a while longer.

Eventually the women decide they have had enough fun and games, and they release me. I'm given a one hundred dollar tip in the usual manner, and returned to the upstairs lounge.

"Red. You are off duty. Return to the changing room," comes the familiar robotic voice.

Mistress Lyn is waiting patiently for my return, which is twenty minutes later than scheduled. She doesn't say anything until I'm back in my normal clothes.

"You should consider carefully before you accept an instruction to go to the dungeon," warns Mistress.

"I didn't realise that I had a choice, Mistress," I reply.

"If your overseer asks you to confirm that you understand an instruction, you may answer 'no' if you do not wish to comply. You will incur a penalty point for refusing an order, but the members and the overseer will not insist that you obey. Members are free to do as they like in the dungeon, which includes keeping you there for as long as they want. There are cells in the dungeon which can be used to lock up the victim overnight if that is what the member wants to do. If that happens, then the staff at The Manor won't release you until Sunday morning."

"Are the members allowed to remove any part of my outfit, Mistress?" I ask.

"They aren't supposed to interfere with your outfit and bonds, but it is unlikely they will suffer any consequences if they do. Most members respect the rules, but as I warned you last week, not every member is an upstanding citizen. You should use your safety signal if anyone other than a pony club steward tries to remove any part of your outfit."

It's eleven o'clock by the time we reach home. I find Tom sat on the couch among the usual collection of empty beer bottles. He's not in a happy mood. His football team obviously lost today.

"Useless bunch of no-hopers," fumes Tom. "The kids from the orphanage could have done better."

I presume he is berating the players of his football team. These are the same players whom he worshipped as future champions last week. He doesn't bother asking me about my work today, and I don't volunteer any information. I can tell that he wants to fuck me, though, and I oblige my removing my clothes. His frustration at his team's loss is always soothed by giving me a good fucking. He's very rough on these occasions, but I'm okay with letting him slake his frustration and lust.

While he is pumping away in my cunt, I recall what he said about his team. He mentioned the orphanage and the word triggers a recall of something that was said on Monday night. By the time Tom empties his balls into my innards, I've remembered the conversation that I had with the other Fillies, and their warning about the hypnotic effects of the overseers' wand.

After all the beer he has consumed, Tom is ready for bed as soon as he has finished fucking me. My mind is still too active to sleep yet, so I tell Tom that I'm going to tidy up his mess and do a few things before I come to bed. Remembering the conversation on Monday evening doesn't help me decide what to do about my recovered knowledge. Something is clearly not right about the operation of the pony club, but what? My recruitment and experiences at the pony club have been strange and highly sexual in nature. But nothing has happened to me that I regret, or wish had not happened. I'm submissive by nature, and Mistress Lyn and the pony club are an ideal outlet for my desires.

Chapter 24

It is nearly two am by the time I crawl into bed. My newly recalled memories are still a jumble of isolated facts which I can't yet piece into a coherent story. Unfortunately, Tom and Mistress Lyn are not going to be any help to me in resolving the mystery. I don't like keeping secrets from from Tom, but his recent actions have made it clear that he has been keeping secrets from me. I refuse to believe that he means me any harm, but until I know more I don't feel that I can trust him with my suspicions about The Manor.

I sleep soundly despite my concerns. The combination of the beer and the sex before bed means Tom doesn't wake for his usual middle-of-the-night fuck. We both wake early the next morning and after breakfast I take my daily run. With it being Sunday, Tom decides to join me on my run. He's out of practise, and he has difficulty keeping pace with me. I modify my usual route to keep near bus stops in case Tom needs to drop out early. Sure enough he calls it quits after covering about a third of the route, and he leaves me to complete the circuit on my own.

My revised route passes through parts of the town I once knew but haven't visited since my return with Tom. The orphanage where Tom and I lived during our teenage years is nearby. Unlike Tom, I wasn't allowed out of the orphanage very often, but some of the local shops and the park are familiar. I decide to take a detour and pass the orphanage to see if it helps put some of the jumbled pieces of my memory in place. I reach the building I recall being my home for five years. Memories flood back into my mind when I see the stark grey buildings of Sunnybridge. The iron gates and tall surrounding fence give the appearance of a prison rather than a home for children. A security guard at the gate comes over to me as I gawk at the building before me.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" asks the guard.

"Um... No. Thanks. I used to live here. I was just reliving some memories."

"Hmm. We don't get many former residents returning here. Most are simply glad to be gone from the place, and they never want to return."

I return home more confused than ever. A host of suppressed memories were triggered by the sight of Sunnybridge. Some of those memories are pleasant; ones of forgotten friends. The women I now know as Fillies at the pony club were known to me long before I became in thrall to Mistress Lyn. Belinda, now Blue. Dawn, now Yellow. Zara, now White. The twins, Maia and Kele, now Black and Navy. Only Pink and Green are new acquaintances to me.