Released from suspension, Sweet Cheeks lowers herself and stands, wrists secured in the reverse prayer position as always. Groom Edgar returns the leash to Sweet Cheeks’ collar. Nipple cones removed, as suggested rings have been slipped in place. Sweet Cheeks was amazed in seeing how far her elongated nipples could be momentarily stretched, fingers pulling vigorously, rings slipped in place. When the pink strips were released, the clever threading of the interior diameter of the rings plus her retracting nipple flesh secured the circles of steel in place. Bells are attached right and left, such join the Ben wa bell in sonorously chiming with her motion.
“Somewhat condition you for running in harness Cheeks,” Groom Edgar explains.
He pulls, Sweet Cheeks of course follows... then falters... pangs of delight ripping through her loins.
Yes, as enjoyable was swinging about in harness, with the more pronounced motion of walking the Ben wa ball rumbles about deep within.
“Oh Sir... it’s... it’s ...too much. It... it’s like someone...”
“Is finger fucking you? Yes, that loose ball is magical isn’t it. Gets a girl’s attention.”
Particularly when held in unending chastity, Sweet Cheeks thinks but dares not add. And the nipple bells tantalize as well, Sweet Cheeks certain that Groom Edgar is well aware.
“I don’t think... I... can...”
“But you will. Shall I crop your buttocks? Perhaps a little sting to your nipples?”
Sweet Cheeks has no reply. Groom Edgar pulls briskly. Though the journey to the exercise area is short, the devilish trinkets bring faint self induced ecstasy with each step. Slowly, Sweet Cheeks steps, following the leash hand. Every ting of the Ben wa bell brings a pang. Step, pang, step, pang... Sweet Cheeks feels her moist vagina turn to a river.
How can the likes of Gum Drop and Candy Bar do this? Run for miles with their cunnies so stuffed.
“As you acclimate, you’ll find the sting of leather counters the pleasure... you’ll come to welcome the crop, Sweet Cheeks.”
Stepping up on the treadmill, Groom Edgar affixes cables to the ear grommets, head to be held proudly high, and removes the leash. In beginning the rotation... walking speed to start... Sweet Cheeks notes a length of leather hanging on the wall before her. With her first step, the bells chime, the pangs resume, and Sweet Cheeks must ask...
“Sir, the crop... the Ben wa ball... it’s... it’s too much.”
“All right, Cheeks just a stroke or two. Counter the enjoyment. You are quite redolent by the way... so much relishing your exercise...”.
*****
Fifteen minutes on the treadmill was all Sweet Cheeks could endure despite Groom Edgar’s crop hand working the nipples and buttocks, the sting distracting from the tantalizing Ben wa balls and nipple ornaments. First time exercised while fully decorated, the pony girl trainee was deluged with sensations.
Though not much leg work resulted, there was achievement in Sweet Cheeks learning to find rhythm, bells coming to ring in cadence with the footwork under Groom Edgar’s exacting tutelage.
‘Lady Dyson will insist,’ he explained in earnest, ‘she’ll run you until your footwork and the bells are in tempo’.
So it’s bath and feeding time, Sweet Cheeks led back to her stall, remaining bells in cadence, learning that there is benefit when the crop splats her muscled cheeks, countering the twinges, tempering her arousal, drawing her from the brink.
Stepping onto the low bench, feet widely parted, the suspension process repeats, thigh straps, ankle cuffs, feet raised, ear grommets hooked. The nipples are once again tugged, the pink nubs pulled to perverted length, the rings and attached bells removed.
Then for the first time comes the most humiliating of procedures, slipping away the Ben wa bell and deeply embedded ball anchoring the trinkets in her vagina. Sweet Cheeks has watched as Gum Drop’s canal gave up the teasing spheres. Now she must somehow brook the humiliation.
She hears the remaining bell chime, then comes silence as Groom Edgar grips and gently tugs.
“Ease up, Cheeks, relax, your pubo coccygeus muscles are pulling as if you want to suck the baubles into your womb.”
Indeed, Sweet Cheeks tries to relax, so much wanting to be rid of the tantalizing ornaments.
Or does she?
She feels her Master’s finger work, feels the lower ball stop moving. Then comes the command to cough, her obedient response and the sensation of the sphere slipping down... and down. She also smells herself... her excitement... the canvas straps holding her thighs widely apart, vulva gaping. She can only imagine how wet she must be, the ignominy of male fingers working so intimately within brings arousal... that felt years ago. Yes, when naked... at the orphanage. Such exposure. Such shame... yet such thrill. She closes her eyes. There comes the command to cough again. More tugging. The sizable upper ball moves. She can feel it, abrading her cervix, slipping down her vagina.
“Good girl... almost there,” Sweet Cheeks wondering if child birth is being replicated.
Then comes the ‘plop’, the ball finally exiting, the folds of wet skin yielding, the configuration of bell, small ball and large to rest in the palm of her Master’s hand.
“You enjoy, Sweet Cheeks... as all you naughty girls do,” Groom Edgar stepping to the front to display the glistening globes, slick with feminine essence.
He smiles holding under the nose, ensuring Sweet Cheeks is aware that her undouched sex indeed proclaims her thrill, nostrils forced to indulge in the musky aroma. Tears of shame flow, a finger kindly brushing away the droplets.
“Compose yourself, Sweet Cheeks. You’ll acclimate. Deep within you so much savor this... so much want to subjugate yourself. And at Dyson Farms, there’s no pretension... no covering... no blanket to abet the denial of who you are... what you are. Here you’ll confront your masochism... your exhibitionism... and learn to revel in it.”
Groom Edgar grabs a vessel and returns between the spread thighs and upturned ankles. Sweet Cheeks feels fingers diddle at her stretched labia. When one slips inward she knows her ignominy has not ended. The tip finds the urethral sponge, gently rubbing.
“Psst, psst, empty yourself for me.”
Whereas Sweet Cheeks has learned to so perform standing over the odd shaped collection basin in the training stall, she now must release hanging in suspension. Groom Edgar, having trained so many, is aware, patiently waiting.
“Psst, psst, relax your urethral sphincter. Be a good girl. You need to urinate... and we don’t do messy things at Dyson Farms... soiling the floor.”
Sweet Closes her eyes, both trying to focus on the lowly deed and put out of her mind that a man has his finger within, taking control of a most intimate function. Nothing is private at Dyson Farms, she reminds herself, all is open to see, her nude body assessable at all times. But to so relieve her excretions?
Finally she summons a flow, hearing a metalic ping. And of course that is when Groom Edgar knowingly takes control, finger pressing firmly, curtailing her effort, sending her system into an uproar. She whimpers, the sensation most unusual. In frustration she fights, pressing hard with abdominal muscles to override her groom’s mastery. But to no avail. She will complete the lowly task at his whim... only when the tip of his finger cedes.
There is a message, Sweet Cheeks realizes... indoctrinated to her Master’s dominion... his authority to rein over something as simple and basic as ridding of excretions.
The finger yields... there comes more flow... then it presses anew... the deed interrupted again.
Yes, Maestro plays.
Basin finally filled, bladder emptied, Groom Edgar disposes and moves to the wall, unraveling a spray hose. It’s bath time, every inch of naked flesh to be cleansed... palpated... inspected. Sweet Cheeks’ debasement to continue... and continue.
“We need to begin supervised bowel movements as well, Cheeks. You will defecate upon command... like a good pony girl. The timing will be strict... no lingering. If delayed you’ll need a suppository... or worse. And possibly a change in diet.”
The thought brings Sweet Cheeks to blush. Yet with all else under her groom’s guidance, why would bowel movements be excluded. After all, daily bathing includes the debasement of wiping her anus. With the extended chastity her groom’s touch there has come to excite.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Now, let’s get you back into the stretching cones, some weights and a good night’s sleep.”
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