SLAVE REVELATIONS

by

Jennifer Jane Pope

Well, there's a lot of you out there been buying Slave Genesis and placing advance orders for the sequel, Slave Exodus - so many, in fact, that Nexus have commissioned this to be a third book in the series and we're now looking at a potential saga.

At the end of Exodus, we left a lot of people in a great deal of uncertainty, and now we take up the story again, with the gorgeous Sara Llewellyn-Smith revelling in her role as a novice pony girl and poor Alex, now known as Jangles, far less happy with the same role that has been forced on her in her new body on the island of Ailsa Ness. In the extract below, Sara has again become Sassie and Colin is learning just what is expected of the master of a beautiful pony girl ...

Despite the fact that he had known what to expect, the sight of Sara, standing waiting for him in the middle of the little stable room, still took Colin's breath away and he remembered how Geordie Walker had described the way she had looked when he had found her that first night, only an hour or two after the two of them had discovered Andrew Lachan's secret tack room. Very much, Colin presumed, the way she looked now, with the flickering lantern lights shimmering on the studding and buckles of her harness and bridle.

She had begun, he saw, drawing back her hair and tying it into a high ponytail, emphasising the style by drawing the thick golden tresses up through a stiff leather tube, that held them up and away from her head, before allowing them to cascade down again like a plume and leaving her perfectly shaped ovaloid features completely unobscured - or so they had been, until she had added the intricate leather bridle.

Looking at her, Colin guessed that she must have started her self-costuming from the feet upwards, for the elaborate tack assembly comprised a myriad fastenings and lacings and the thick blinkers and broad bit gag would surely have hampered her efforts to prepare herself.

The boots were of highly polished red leather, long and reaching well above the knee, laced tightly, so that they followed every contour of her shapely legs. Like the boots Colin had seen - and indeed experienced himself - at Celia Butler's singular establishment, they were high heeled and arched the insteps dramatically, though the way in which the soles and heels were moulded into heavy hoof shapes disguised any semblance of human feet.

Above the boots, Sara had buckled and laced herself into a stiff corset of matching leather, the golden studs contrasting with the crimson background and from this basic girth several other straps ran in different directions, so that her entire upper body was encased as if in a red spider's web.

Two straps descended from the front of the corset, forming a V-shape, the base of which sat so that it just covered her shaven sex. Without looking closer, Colin knew that these two straps were there joined to each other and a third strap, which then ran back up between her buttocks to buckle to the lower hem of the corset at the rear.

Above the girth, more straps, this time ascending, forming loops - cages almost, about either breast, lifting them and separating them, yet without covering them for any modesty; rather the way in which the two heavy steel rings at the centre of each complex cone sat about the two engorged nipples, forcing them forward in twin, hardened peaks, made Sara's bosom seem even more naked than if it had been left entirely unhampered.

By her sides, her arms hung limply, encased in long leather sleeves that she had managed to lace herself, though not as tightly as they were designed for, Colin realised, for in that case her arms would have been too stiff about the elbow joints for her to bend them. He nodded to himself, appreciating the dedicated effort it must have required for her to achieve even this effect.

About her neck was buckled a high, stiff collar, beset with three rings of golden studs, which forced her to keep her chin up and her head held high, the rquired pose for what Celia had taught them both was a "show pony". The haughty bearing contrasted starkly with the rest of the image, for the bridle that encased her head and the thick, rubber padded bit that filled her mouth gave Sara an air of humility and suffering, her cheeks bulging, her beautiful eyes framed by the leather, the blinkers preventing her from seeing in any direction other than straight ahead.

`Very nice,' Colin said, quietly. The observation was totally inadequate and they both knew it, but he needed a few more moments to compose himself. Trying to control his shaking hands, he stepped forward and lifted her right arm. Sara stood immobile, staring at the end wall, apparently not seeing him and made no effort to resist as he began tightening the lacing. After a few minutes, he stepped back, allowing the arm to fall free.

`Can you bend it now?' he asked. Sara gave a curt shake of her head, which set her fair mane swirling and lifted her arm to demonstrate. Colin saw the sinews at the very top of the limb twitch, as she attempted to bend it at the elbow, but there was scarcely any movement of the joint. Stepping forward again, he repeated the process on her other arm and, as he stood back for a second time, he heard her let out a long, deep sigh. From now on, he realised, as did she, there was no way she could remove anything: for all practical purposes, she was now helpless and dependant upon her "master".

`I think that girth looks a little loose,' Colin observed, fighting to keep his tone as neutral and expressionless as possible. One thing he had learned - among the several other things he had learned during their short visit to Celia's - was that the ambience, the mood, the entire effect of the ritual, could be destroyed in a moment, just from a single poorly chosen remark, or even by an unguarded snicker. He moved behind her and began working on the laces.

In truth, Sara had laced herself into the girth pretty strictly and Colin felt a pang of guilt as he began to tighten it yet further, but he knew that it was expected of him, that Sara had already fallen under the spell of this bizarre scene and that every millimetre by which he managed to reduce her waist was adding in some inexplicable way to her ultimate responsiveness.

Finally, the task was completed and Colin retreated a few paces, looking her up and down, yet all the while avoiding direct eye contact, as he watched the way in which her breasts now rose and fell with the rapid, shallow breathing that the corset enforced upon her. Inside the tightish leather breeches he had donned in the bedroom earlier, he could feel himself beginning to grow hard and he turned away, not yet wanting to display the effect that the sight of her virtual nakedness was having upon him.

`I think we'll use the gig this evening, Sassie,' he said, using her pony girl name. He walked past her, to where the two wheeled cart lay half hidden beneath the dust sheets, but his eye was immediately caught by the further array of leatherwear and implements that hung from the wooden rack on the wall beyond it. He stood, motionless, for several seconds and then made a decision.

The gloves he selected were short, reaching only to the wrist and were, in fact, more like mittens, tapering to a point, from which dangled a heavy steel D ring, and holding the thumb and fingers tightly together inside, so that any likelihood of Sara being able to perform tasks that required even the most basic dexterity was removed with cunning simplicity. There was a zip up the back of each, which purred closed effortlessly and a sturdy strap that then buckled about the wrist, hiding the zip tag from view. There were also, he saw, several small holes through which a padlock could be fastened, preventing anyone but the keyholder from unbuckling and removing the mitt, but that, he decided, was quite unnecessary under their present circumstances.

`Nice and secure,' he murmured and then paused, standing just to one side and slightly behind Sara, so that the blinkers prevented her from seeing him. For several seconds, Colin stood, just watching her, biting thoughtfully on his top lip as he studied her more closely, trying to see beyond and inside the fantastical image, the fetishistic icon that she had so willingly become. Tentatively, he reached out one hand, letting his fingers run gently over the taut flesh of her splendidly naked buttock. He saw her muscles tense, felt them twitch just slightly beneath his touch, but apart from that, she made not a move, made not the slightest sound, even.

Breathing in deeply, Colin moved slowly back in front of her and stood again, this time deliberately staring into her eyes, which shone back at him, unblinking, unflinching, wide and innocent, deep and unfathomable. Again he reached out, this time with both hands, thumbs and forefingers taking her burgeoning nipples in a gentle grasp, rolling the stiffened flesh softly between them. He was rewarded by a flaring of her nostrils and a slight and barely perceptible intake of breath, which Sara then let out again in a long and soundless sigh.

`I'm still not sure I really understand all this, Sa- ... Sassie.' He corrected himself in the nick of time and, just for the briefest of instants, Paul thought he detected a flicker of humour in those deep green orbs, but then it was gone again and Sassie the pony girl stood as mute and unemotional as was befitting her status.

`This really does turn you on, doesn't it?' he whispered. Still no response. He smiled, crookedly. `Well, I can't say it doesn't do anything for me, either,' he said, `but you'll have to give me a bit of time to come to terms with it all. Celia said a few things that set me thinking, but I don't pretend to be any sort of psychologist.'

He released his grip on her nipples and let his hands fall to his sides, considering his next move and wondering if perhaps he may not have spoiled the mood for Sara, but, as he backed away and turned towards the shrouded gig, a sudden flash of comprehension struck him and he paused, looking back at the still motionless pony girl.

`Trot,' he said, so quietly that his voice was barely more than a whisper. `Trot to the end of the room and then trot back again. And let's see those legs well up in the air, or I'll have to take the crop to your quarters.'

The air in the small chamber seemed to grow suddenly very still and Colin had the unnerving sensation of time stopping. It seemed an age, an age in which he wondered whether perhaps he had not gone just a little too far and then, as if in slow motion, he saw Sara lift first one leg, raising the knee so that it was level with her navel and then, as the steel shod hoof boot came clattering down onto the hard flagstone floor, repeat the move with the other, so that she pranced forward, buckles and brasses jangling, breasts bouncing proudly inside their leather cages.

And there's lots, lots more to come in the book, but don't forget that the first two in the series are now available. Slave Genesis hasn'y yet been made available on general release in USA bookshops, though Slave Exodus has (Walden Books, Borders and loads of independent stores now stock them), but both are available via www.amazon.com or www.amazon.co.uk and also from Barnes and Noble's website at www.bn.com . If you're having trouble sourcing copies, by all means e-mail me and let me know.

Don't forget, most of my books are currently available via www.amazon.co.uk at a discounted prices. Just type "Jennifer Jane Pope" into their search engine and it will display all titles of mine that they have. For my Chimera titles, you can also order direct from the publisher at www.chimerabooks.co.uk , but you'll need to be a little patient whilst the back catalogue page loads, as it's full of cover illustrations.

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