From Duty to Calling

The body lay at the bottom of the ravine. An unnaturally twisted leg indicated broken bones. Sightless eyes stared at the distant sky. The man's weathered face revealed that he had spent much time outdoors, maybe working on a ranch as his cowboy-style clothing suggested. Blood had oozed from his fractured skull, matted the greying hair, and formed a pool on the rocky bed of the dried creek. The side of his head was smashed in. Frank whistled soundlessly while he looked around. If the man had cracked his temple on a boulder, the latter should have been in evidence nearby.

His practiced eye recognized the tell-tale tracks where the man had dragged himself over the ground. Given the state of his leg that must have hurt. A lot. For some reason, the man had felt some urgency to get here. Or to get away? Sighting along the tracks, Frank spotted something stuck between the trees growing on the gorge's steep slope.

It turned out to be the wreckage of a strange vehicle. Basically, just a seat mounted between two wheels, like a sulky used in horse races. But the frame seemed too narrow for a horse; its dimensions were more suitable for a small pony. Or for the two-legged, human variety popular in certain fetish subcultures. No wonder they had been coy about the exact nature of the missing 'horse team' he was supposed to track down. Unfortunately, there was no sign of the mount. When the sulky had tumbled down the slope and hit the trees, its carbon fiber shafts had broken off, releasing the pony. Digging through the debris yielded no further clues, except for a nasty-looking flogger that made him frown.

Frank pulled out his mobile phone. As expected, it showed no signal. If he wanted to call this in, he would have to use the radio in his patrol car. That meant climbing up the slope again to the forest service road above and losing even more time. Nah, he better went after the missing pony himself.

Which direction? Upstream, into the wilderness? Or downstream, which would sooner or later lead back to civilization? He started to jog along the ravine, downstream. After about half a kilometer, he spotted a strange footprint on a patch of sand. Like a horseshoe, but smaller. He had guessed right.

Half an hour later, Frank had to lean against a tree, wheezing. Damned! He tried to stay fit, but his quarry was probably in prime physical condition. Not to mention the considerable head start it had. He pushed himself off the tree and was about to start running again when he noticed the broken twig. Leaning over, he saw that the leaves on the ground were disturbed as well. It looked as if something had been dragged over the forest floor.

Apparently, the frightened pony had decided to leave the conspicuous stream bed behind, trading speed for stealth. Clever beast. He congratulated himself on his good fortune. If he had kept jogging along, he would have missed the signs. But now that he knew what to look for, following the tracks would be easy.

...

Frank caught first sight of his quarry about half an hour later. Quick-witted, he ducked behind a tree. Sweat suffused his shirt, and he was seriously winded but when he spied the lithe figure in the distance, his fatigue evaporated. Some primal instinct informed him that he was confronted with a woman. She had not noticed him yet, and he did not want to spook her, so he kept quiet while he observed her.

Immediately, he realized that she seemed to be stuck. She would lean forward as if she strained against an invisible force holding her back, then turn around again and kick at something on the ground, presently hidden from his view. Using the dense trees to cover his approach, Frank crept closer. It helped that she created quite the ruckus with her frantic attempts to escape her predicament.

From about eight meters away, he got his first good look at the woman. His breath caught. The thing that struck him first was her lack of arms. No, he had to amend that impression. When she turned her back towards him, he saw that they lay folded against her spine, the forearms pressed together and pointing upwards towards her head. It resembled an especially devout prayer position, only assumed behind instead of in front of her body. Frank marveled how her arms could achieve and sustain this double-jointed, reverse prayer configuration. No doubt, being slender as a sword had something to do with the former, while the latter certainly was not by her own choice. Her attire looked like it had sprung from a bondage enthusiast's fevered dream.

Frank allowed his eyes to roam her body. She was not naked, strictly speaking, but the black leather straps forming a harness around the woman's body exposed exactly those areas that conventional clothing covered. Indeed, the harness framed her breasts and crotch as if to call attention to her assets, as did the glinting bits of metal embedded into them.

Her round breasts were not large but very firm, as befitted someone with her slender yet athletic build. She had long, sleekly muscled legs, made to look even longer by her strange, knee-high boots. Like high-heels, they kept her on the balls of her feet, except they had no heels. Instead, their soles widened into round platforms that resembled hooves, especially since they were shod with steel horse shoes, although narrower than those for real horses.

A wide belt around her waist, almost like a small corset, constituted the central element of the harness. From its front, a pair of straps descended towards her crotch. Digging into the crease between thigh and groin on each side, they joined at her perineum. The united strap anchored the tail protruding from her bottom and reaching down to her knees, then followed the crack of her ass before it merged with the back of the waist belt again. Broken-off pieces of the sulky's shafts dangled from the belt and dragged over the ground. This, combined with her hoof boots, had made it so easy for him to follow her tracks.

Particularly daunting was the high collar that enclosed her neck. Its high sides and the stiff tongue extending under her chin immobilized her head in a slight backward tilt. Her plight was aggravated by a pair of blinkers attached to the web of straps that ensnared her head. They cut off her peripheral vision and forced the woman to bend or turn her whole upper body if she wanted to look at something not directly in front of her. No wonder she had not spotted him yet. Navigating the difficult terrain handicapped like this must have been hell.

So that was what a real-life, high-end ponygirl looked like. The reality surpassed his wildest imagination. Frank licked his parched lips. He was no stranger to kink role play, having used his police handcuffs on a number of girlfriends for their mutual enjoyment. Unfortunately, they all had balked when he wanted to go further. But the display before his eyes took it to the next level. They certainly spared no expenses at the billionaire's remote ranch to indulge their perverted fantasies. Only this time, their kinky games had taken a fatal turn.

Besides the blinkers, the head harness also mounted a bit that was wedged between her teeth and pulled at the corners of her mouth. Attached to the bit shanks were the reins that Frank identified as the cause of her current troubles. Apparently, the long leather loop had become entangled in the shrubbery. Bereft of her arms, the ponygirl had no other recourse than trying to pry her reins loose by pulling at them from alternating directions.

But pulling at her reins resulted in an obviously painful action on the bit shanks. Hence, she spun in a circle to wind the reins about her body before she strained against them. The resultant friction lessened the pull on her bridle. Smart pony!

Fascinated, Frank observed how she leaned her whole body forward, adding her weight to the efforts of her legs. She struggled with all her strength, her horseshoes scraping over the forest floor while her muscles quivered with exertion. Her pained grunts suggested that her sensitive mouth did not escape all punishment from fighting her reins. Like a fish caught on a hook! Despite himself, Frank found a part of himself rooting for her, even though it meant he would have to race after her if she managed to extricate herself from her predicament.

Alas, once again, the scrub triumphed over human ambition. With a cry, the ponygirl ceased her struggles and turned to deliver a heartfelt kick to the callous undergrowth. Frank decided to step in before the cycle repeated itself. He left the cover of the trees and approached her, not bothering to hide the sound of his footsteps.

She froze, then spun around. Her eyes widened in shock. He spread his arms and held up his palms.

"I mean no harm!"

She kept staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights for another second until his uniform registered. A stifled sob broke from her and the tension drained from her body. She stumbled towards him as he raced to catch her. She collapsed into his arms. They wound up in an awkward, one-sided embrace since her tack prevented her from doing anything more than leaning stiffly against him. Sobs wracked her body, and he muttered soothing sounds into her ear until her heaves subsided.

"Better now? Let me help you."

He laid his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. In her hoof boots she was so tall he had to look up to study her face. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the thick nose ring resting on her upper lip. Swinging freely as it did, it was probably mounted in an eyelet pierced high-up through the cartilage of her septum. The elongated ring appeared serviceable rather than decorative, confirming she was kept not as a pet, but as livestock.

The tears had left tracks on her sweaty and dust-covered face. A bruise marred her left cheekbone. The bit pulled at the corners of her mouth and stretched her lips back. Both sides of her head had been shaved bare, leaving only a stripe of short, blonde hair along the top of her skull, like a mane. Incidentally, the tail sticking out of her butt was the same color, suggesting where the balance of her hair had ended up. The straps of the head harness bisected her face in a strange, quilt-like pattern while the collar enforced a faux haughty posture. Yet, despite her willful disfigurement, his connoisseur's view discerned the exceptionally beautiful girl hiding beneath the grime.

"Hmlgh mm!"

Frank had been staring spellbound into her luminous green eyes when her plea broke through his rapture. Guiltily, he lowered his gaze. Onto breasts thrust towards him as if begging to be fondled. With erect nipples pierced by heavy gauge steel, ready to be sucked...

Stop it! Her tantalizing pose was just an involuntary consequence of her bondage. He had to get a grip on his surging hormones and act professionally.

"Let's see," he murmured, lowering his arms to pluck at the straps of her harness. From up close, her gear looked even more formidable. He could not help but admire the workmanship that had gone into it. Black leather and gleaming steel formed an intricate prison for her body and head. Judging from how the straps indented her flesh, the harness had been fastened cruelly tight. Or, maybe the reason for its tightness was not cruelty, but caution to prevent chafing when she ran?

Despite their modest size, her breasts practically oozed out from the straps surrounding them. Pierced through each areola, right behind the nipples, incongruously large D-ring type shackles vied for attention. Like their counterpart in her nose, their industrial appearance dispelled any notion they could be simple jewelry. Their import was clear. What did it feel like to be so easily controllable? With a leash attached to her rings, even a child could take charge of her.

He released the snap hooks that fastened the broken-off shafts of the sulky to her belt and let them fall to the ground. That was all he could do for her. Each and every of the heavy-duty buckles on her harness was secured by a lock. Without the keys or a bolt cutter, there was no way to open them. Her owner obviously did not fancy the idea of someone else freeing her from her tack. Peering over her shoulder, he saw her mittened hands grazing the nape of her neck. Below the thumbless mittens, massive steel cuffs enclosed her delicate wrists. A few chain links connected the cuffs to a ring at the back of her posture collar. Not a chance. He beckoned her towards the brush that had snagged her reins.

"Step close, please! I'll try to get you free."

Frank suppressed a smile when she stomped her right foot in acknowledgment, clearly an automatic response ingrained by her pony training. A pang of guilty conscience made him lower his gaze. How long had she been forced to endure this dehumanizing treatment? Dutifully, she positioned herself close to the shrubbery, creating slack in her tether that made his task easier to accomplish.

He knelt down next to her feet. From this perspective, her legs appeared endless. Along her left flank, he noticed a long, bloody gash. She had been lucky, as this was apparently the only serious injury she had suffered in the fall into the ravine. Frank could not help but steal a look at her pussy, curious about the metal he had espied there earlier.

What the fuck? Five sturdy locks blocked access to her sex. Their shackles passed through paired grommets that pierced her outer labia on either side, ensuring she was not (ab)used beyond her designated role as a beast of burden. More steel peeked out from between her tightly compressed lips, but its exact nature could not be discerned.

The barbaric display made a bold statement. No doubt, her owner was the jealous type. Just as surely as Frank felt envious right now. Anyway, if you wanted to reward the pony, you could always slip your finger between her nether lips. The fresh whip marks that crisscrossed her bottom and thighs suggested that her late driver had taken a different approach to motivate her. Karma's a bitch.

Frank swallowed. So this was the moment. No more hesitation, he had to decide on a course of action now. One question bothered him, though. Why me? Half of the police department was on their payroll, surely they could have sent one of them. It was a test. Had to be. Up to now, he had stayed clear by looking the other way. Unlike poor Bradley with his foolish do-gooder pretensions. Help the girl or rather help himself? If he did what was obviously expected of him, they would own him forever.

His gaze lingered on her right hoof boot. Ominous splotches darkened the leather just above the massive steel bow of the horseshoe sole. To kneel at her feet like this put him in a vulnerable position. He was well aware of what havoc a kick of these boots to his head could wreak. He had seen the results firsthand.

That decided it. After all, he was dealing with a murderess. Fortunately, the ponygirl could not observe his actions since her posture collar prevented her from looking down at her feet. From time to time, he tugged at her reins to convince her that he was working to free her when, in reality, he pursued a very different goal.

He took a number of broad cable ties from the pouch on his belt. Doing fieldwork, he preferred them over the clunkier handcuffs. Careful not to tip her off, he fastened cable ties loosely around her ankles, then completed the makeshift hobble by threading a third one between them. Done! Now, she could neither kick him nor outrun him in case she somehow managed to get away from him. He took a deep breath and tightened the loops around her ankles.

"Whampf?"

The ponygirl finally realized that something was amiss. Her questioning whinny turned into an alarmed cry when her attempt to step back ran afoul of her improvised shackles. She stumbled, but Frank caught her in his arms before she hit the ground. Although he set her down gently, she whimpered when her welted butt touched the forest floor.

Leaning forward, she could see now what he had done to her ankles. Her eyes widened dramatically. A flood of emotions played across her face before it finally settled into an expression of hurt and betrayal. Frank turned his back on her. Bending down, he began to tackle her tangled reins in earnest. Behind him, the pony began to cry softly.

Somehow, she had managed to tangle her reins in a Gordian knot in the thorny undergrowth. He pulled out a pocket knife but was loathe to cut through the leather. Undamaged, the reins would came in handy later. Instead, he attacked the recalcitrant shrubbery with a vengeance. He felt her eyes burning holes in the back of his head. Doggedly, he sawed through the tough stems. After a while, her stifled sobs subsided. He did not turn to face her when he finally spoke.

"Mr. Epwell's made some generous donations to the community when he bought the Jeffries' ranch. He's cozy with the sheriff and the mayor. And every other official. When I got this job, I was told not to stick my nose in his private business."

His attempt to explain himself elicited no reaction. Spoken aloud, it sounded lame even to himself. He glanced at her over his shoulder. If looks could kill, the county would lack a deputy sheriff. Better! Hate he could deal with.

"They say the governor is a regular visitor on the ranch..."

Her flinch told him all he needed to know. He had made the prudent choice. Who knew who else was in the billionaire's pocket? This was far above his pay grade. He did not want to end up in a freak accident like Bradley. Besides, he had family in town. He had to worry about them, too.

He resumed his attack on the shrubbery. A minute later, he had freed her reins. Gripping them close to her bridle, he stood up and gave them a tug."Up!"

With a grace that belied her demanding footwear and strict bondage, the pony first rolled onto her knees, then got to her feet. In the same fluid movement, she stepped close to knee him in the groin. The hobble stopped her just millimeters from her target. Her frustrated howl sent spittle flying past her bit He smirked, and then she lost it.

Frank watched in amazement as she twisted and turned like a blade of grass in a storm. She fought her bondage with all she had. The locks in her pussy jangled when they bumped into each other. Their din was multiplied by those on her harness rattling against the buckles they secured. Her muscles trembled with exertion, yet despite her titanic efforts, her bonds did not budge a millimeter. Instead of reining her in, he gave some slack, allowing her temper tantrum to run its course. He would have an easier time later if he let her get the rage out of her system now. Besides, her frantic gyrations made for a fascinating spectacle, one he found deeply exciting. Finally, her shoulders slumped, and she ceased her struggles. Panting hard, she sent him a glare that should have scorched him on the spot. His answering smile was appreciative. She was a feisty one, for sure.

"My turn." He vigorously pulled down on the reins, forcing her to bend at the hips, until her head was at the level of his chest.

"Aii!"

If her scream was any indication, yanking on her reins like this did something disagreeable to her mouth. Assuming her bit worked along similar lines as the curb bits for real horses he was familiar with, its shanks acted as levers for a spade-like mouthpiece that - depending on which way you pulled - pressed either into her soft palate or onto her tongue. A cruel regime to inflict on a ponygirl, but an effective one.

He brought his face close to hers, staring into her eyes. She stared right back at him, her defiance tempered by just a hint of fear.

"Behave!"

To emphasize his point, he hooked his little finger into her nose ring and pulled, while his other hand yanked down on her reins again. Frank slowly increased the force of his pull until she neighed in pain and stomped her foot. He continued her torment for a few more seconds to make the lesson stick. She needed to learn he was not one to be trifled with. He let go of her nose ring and patted her on the cheek.