Neil takes pity on me and shoves it all the way up so that only the horsehair tail protrudes from my cheeks. I gurgle with pleasure at the invasive sensation, drawing it into me, keeping it close, shedding my self-conscious skin so that the animal slut underneath is revealed. I wiggle my hips enticingly, inviting further usage. Neil tugs on the horsehair tail, jerking me backwards. 'Here, little pony,' he says. 'Are you ready to be saddled?'
The velvet chair is adjustable and Lura lowers its back while Neil turns me round so I am lying with my spine against the gentle incline, my legs spread and bent at the knees, the horsetail whip-plug held firmly inside my bottom by the seat.
'Which one of you has the bondage kit?' he asks politely.
An unfamiliar gentleman steps forward, bikerish-looking with massive ginger sideburns and a slew of fierce tattoos. His fists are full of chain links and leather straps and his mouth crowded with gold teeth. He clips the rings on my gauntlets together, joining my wrists, then attaches them to the collar ring, so I have no choice but to hold my hands around my neck. He arranges my arms and elbows so that they angle outwards at either side of my breasts, keeping them exposed and ready for anyone who wants to touch them. My body has only one line of defence left to it – my legs and feet. But not, it seems, for long. The man, with a metallic grin, lifts my legs, one at a time, and secures a soft leather strap above each knee. A length of stretchy rubber with clips at each end is passed through the ring at the back of my collar, then clipped to each of the leg straps. The result is that my legs are lifted high and pulled back over my body until my knees hover above my breasts. I am spread and split, on inescapable display, my horsetail drifting down the front of the chair.
'Nothing to hide, eh, Sophie?' Lura revels in my trussed-up state, walking around the chair and trailing the tip of her crop over my nipples, belly and the underhang of my still-red bottom. She flicks it carelessly on my sore cheeks a couple of times, so I kick and try to move, but I cannot. 'Are you happy down there?'
My answer is a sigh. Ambiguous, I know, but all I can muster.
'Shall we take that as a yes, Sophie?'
'Ahhh.'
She strikes the crop a little harder. 'I need your answer, Sophie, or I will have to unlock your tethers. Are you quite happy?'
'Yes.' A tiny leak of speech.
'That's good. My dear, I didn't catch your name.' She is not speaking to me now, but to the model, who is looming over me, staring in fascination at my plight.
'Jacqueline,' she says.
'Jacqueline, I think the effects of our marvellous medicine might be receding. Would you care to touch it up a little?'
Jacqueline's beringed fingers uncap the bottle once more.
'Oh no,' I moan, 'not again. Please won't somebody just . . .'
She brushes my nipples again until they glare and pulse like two panic buttons, then she moves back down to the lips, and this time she dabs a tiny smear on to my clitoris. My teeth clench and I thrash in my bonds, setting them clinking. My arse contracts madly around the horsetail plug and I try to grind against it, to find a speck of relief, but it is not to be. I teeter on the edge of madness, twisting this way and that, hearing voices amid the crackling of my body's flames.
'My God. I'm recording this. Have you got one of these phones, Neil? This is the latest model.'
Driven to florid distraction by the men discussing gadgets while I suffer and burn, I begin to yelp. I am begging for mercy as coherently as I can, but nobody seems to
want to grant it.
'Oh, poor Sophie,' clucks Lura, stroking my hair. 'Poor little pony. All tailed and saddled and groomed, but with no stud to mount her. Look at that gaping hole. What would make it feel better?'
'Cock!' I gasp, beside myself. 'Give me cock, please, please, I need to be fucked, please, please.'
'Well, we have some toys still to show our customers. We have a lovely vibrator here that looks just like a lipstick. Perfect for a lady's handbag.'
Another man comes forward, holding the dinky miniature shaft up for my perusal. I groan; it is far too small to satisfy. The most it can do is give my clit a bit of a buzz – but I want much more than that now.
He flicks it on and begins to run it around my sex, sloshing it through my juices. The pulse is weak and about as effective as somebody urinating on a forest fire.
'No, I want it in me!' I complain. He gallantly begins to circle my cunt with it, even pushing it a little way in, but it is hopelessly inadequate to assuage this conflagration.
'You want to come, do you?' asks the man, who is smartly dressed and rather handsome. I nod and he tuts, shaking his head. 'You want to come in front of all these people who have watched you being tied up and whipped and plugged. You don't have much shame, do you, Sophie? May I call you Sophie?' The mild buzzing continues to tantalise my nerve endings, while I push up from my spine, hoping to swallow the vibrator and all of his fingers into my quim.
'Call me what you like – just make it bigger and harder,' I whisper.
'I'd love to put my fingers in there,' he murmurs, with a questioning glance at Lura, who shakes her head firmly.
'No.'
'Yes!' I yell in contradiction.