Author's Note: A fantastic story, again. Nothing to bring into real life, nothing I want for real people to experience. Enjoy the read and feel free to comment.

More chapters should follow.


Prologue and Chapter 1

Martine Benning was tired. No, not just tired.... she was exhausted and drained to a point where she had repeatedly drifted towards unconsciousness, just to be rudely awakened by the pain in her shoulders.

Martine's arms had been twisted behind her back, tied together at elbows, forearms and wrists and bend into a reverse prayer position. Her bondage also secured Martine to a wooden pole. This had the effect that, whenever her muscles began to relax too much, her kneeling body would slump forwards, the strain on her arms - especially her elbows and shoulders - would increase. Every time this happened she would immediately be dragged back to consciousness by the sheer agony she was forced to experience.

She didn't know how long she had already been kept in this position, but she was positive she had not really slept for days. Were people looking for her? She couldn't be sure, but she feared that no, Fred might have prepared things too well for that.

There would be emails and text messages, false leads on her Facebook- and LinkedIn-accounts, explanations and distractions. He knew all her passwords, he knew everything about her. If he didn't make a crucial mistake then no one might really miss her for months.

Crushed by this cruel realization, Martine grunted into the gag that had been forced into her mouth, feeling sweat and drool drip from her chin. She shuddered, straightened her back and began to sob uncontrollably. Furious rage blazed up inside her and she screamed into the gag, shook her tortured arms and strained her legs against the ankle-cuffs that held them restrained against the pole. This wasn't what had been supposed to happen, this was too much! She had been tricked, betrayed even! But she would find a way to get her revenge, and then... then...

The sudden rush of energy subsided as fast as it had come. Martine was left behind even more exhausted, even more helpless. The room was isolated, soundproof, hidden beneath the house. Only Fred knew about it, and Fred was...

"You've had time to think, Martine." His voice came to her through the darkness. A light was switched on and there he was, first staring down at her kneeling figure and then kneeling next to her, checking her bondage. To her great disappointment he didn't move a finger to even loosen any of the sweat-soaked ropes, let alone release her from the pole. "You can tell me now that you want it, or I can give you yet more time to think this over. You know what the final result will be, one way or the other."

They had been more than just lovers: They had been best friends. Companions. Soulmates. That was what still made it hard to believe things had gotten so far. Martine sobbed, shook her head and tried to plead with him through the thick rubber of her gag. He just gazed at her sternly. When he reached down between her legs, she howled in protest. But Fred didn't care, and he was able to carefully slip a finger into her with surprising ease.

"That's a lot of sweat", he said with a smile. Leaning forward he whispered into her ear: "But it's not 'just' sweat, Martine. It's who you are. This is the darkness you wanted." The tip of one finger touched her clitoris and she couldn't help but push against it.

But she still protested, producing only unintelligible noises due to the massive ballgag. Fred took her chin into one hand and looked into her eyes until Martine stopped fighting, stopped trying to reason with him.

"You are afraid of this darkness", he said to her. "I understand. I was too, until you helped me. Now you need to show courage and finally be true to yourself, Martine. Say hello to our old friend."

Fred was right, she realized: He wasn't afraid of it anymore, not one tiny bit. He had let the darkness in, and now it filled his whole being. She understood this now because, staring into his eyes, she could see it staring right back at her.

They had met a year ago, on a party that one of Martine's clients had organized when his career arrived at an important milestone.

At that time, Martine was 25 years old and a successful freelance graphic designer, Fred was just a few years older and already junior partner in a marketing company.

Their first evening together had been the best thinkable kind of surprise encounter: They had both been funny, flirty and sexy. They had felt an instant connection. And they had finally shared a taxi and fucked their brains out in Martine's apartment.

Their affair developed into something more committed during the following months. Suddenly they were two young, creative minds in a real relationship, even though they didn't move in with each other - Martine kept her small apartment and Fred kept living in the small house he had bought. They shared much more than just good sex. They shared a good part of each other's' lives.

It was all the more surprising because at first glance, they didn't have much in common: Fred had been brought up mostly in the UK before his family had moved to the United States. He was tall and dark-haired, a guy who carried himself with a certain conservative grace and was more on the ironic, introverted side.

Martine on the other hand had spent most of her youth in New Orleans and still spoke with a soft accent. People described her as 'a smaller version of Zoe Zaldana with a mop of blonde curls'. This was a fitting description. Martine was extroverted and usually laughed aloud where Fred would only smile ironically. She loved to be outside, to boulder, swim and run, which gave her a wiry and lean physique. She never held back with her opinion and she was never shy.

"You can spank my ass if you want to", she said to Fred one day, when they were in bed together. And as he nearly choked on his own spit, she began to laugh and then kissed him.

"Don't think I'm stupid. You let me use your notebook yesterday, remember? You just did not clean your browser history thoroughly enough, and now I think you've not been honest with me: There seems to be an edgy kinky guy hidden within this vanilla white boy!"

Fred was indeed a very 'white boy' - as the way he blushed now proved. "It's not... I didn't... listen Martine... this isn't who I am."

She laughed again. "Listen, it's fine. You aren't the only guy who's into stuff like that. And you aren't the first man I sleep with who keeps a pair of handcuffs in his drawer. If you want to tie me up or if you want to, you know, take me a little rougher, that's fine. If you're into the stuff I saw on your notebook then I'm game!"

He shook his head. "Aren't you... worried? I mean it's kind of dark, don't you think?"

"No, I absolutely don't think that." She sat on him, hands on his body, and looked down at him with a feline grin on her lips.

"Sure, the stuff I found on your laptop is kind of kinky. Some tied girls, some gagged girls, some whipped girls. What were the others... dressed like horses?"

"They are called Ponygirls", Fred sighed.

"Ponygirls, very well." Martine grinned. "That's... pretty weird, but also kind of sexy. I think it's sexy that you are a guy with these kinds of fantasies. I like it when a guy has depth."

"It doesn't have anything to do with depth. We shouldn't even be talking about this", Fred insisted.

"Oh come on, we've been a couple for months now. Why can't we discuss stuff that obviously makes you..."

"No, really Martine!", Fred snapped. "Let's just drop this, okay? It's nothing I enjoy discussing. It's really something I need to cope with by myself."

He seemed so serious about this that she did drop the topic. But she didn't forget it. How could she? It all seemed to fit into the bigger picture.

The bigger picture included that Fred had anxiety problems. That he sometimes came back from a long day at work and needed to calm his shaking hands. He didn't want Martine to see this, but she often stayed at his place now, and it was impossible for him to hide his issues.

There was a darkness hovering around Fred like a cloud, and Martine thought she knew what it was: "You are always controlled, you always hold back", she said when they sat together one evening. "And that's kind of honorable, but I think it also makes you sick. There is a constant strain, isn't there?"

He shrugged, again trying to look cool. But he had just finished a major project for his firm, and in the wake of his success looked like a man who was close to a stroke. "I try to be polite. I try to be fair. It's not easy Martine, I just want to do the right things. But sure, sometimes I'd just like to... go berserk."

She had not brought up the topic for weeks, but this time she felt what he needed. She reached over the table and took his hand, and placed it so that his fingers were essentially around her wrist. It was because she thought that she could see all the way through him: He was so much more than the exhausted guy sitting in front of her now. He could be so powerful, strong and intense at the right times. It was, basically, an egoistic thought she had: She wanted him to be *that* guy because she was thrilled by him.

"You had a good day. You came, you saw, you conquered", Martine told Fred. "What's your bonus going to be - something like twenty thousand grand? You are very good at what you do, and you should feel proud of your success." Then she more or less hissed: "Now - why are we even sitting here, eating a fancy salad? Why aren't you fucking me already, celebrating your triumph?"

Three minutes later they were upstairs on the bed, half wrestling with each other and half making love. When she pushed against him she felt he was instantly going to release her. She had to whisper in his ear to not do that. After that she could finally sense that he let at least some of his inner beast out: He finally pinned her down for real and chained her hands with the cuffs, and when she fought him playfully he tightened the cuffs so much that the steel bit into her skin.

Then he pushed into her. As she moaned loudly, one of his hands found Martines mouth and closed it. So she produced muffled moans into his palm and lost herself to the way he used her roughly, and she came to an orgasm like none he had ever given her before.

She was a little bruised the next day, but she didn't mind that. In fact she came more and more to the conclusion that he needed more of this. Also, she wanted more of that darkness because it tasted good and spicy.

This was why she brought the hypnotherapist into the game later. And this was how Martine came to make her cardinal, most dire mistake.


Chapter 2 (added: 2017/05/20)

The hypnotherapist had for long time not been a hypnotherapist at all in Martine's eyes, she had simply been 'Tanja'. Tanja was a gorgeous female, a green-eyed blonde in her 40s, who had something very sophisticated about her: Martine could have imagined the woman attending any kind of upper-crust event downtown. But Tanja obviously felt just as much at home in the cities' underbelly. She simply transcended age, class and the expectations of others.

Martine knew a mass of people from the avantgardish section of creatives in town: Among her friends and clients were body artists, prog-punk-drummers, alt models, light painters and experimental performance cooks. It was a fun crowd to party with: On one especially memorable occasion, Martine had witnessed the carcass of a bear getting blown into bits with firecrackers inside an artificial cave.

It was not always as spectacular as this, but once or twice a month Martine would find herself at night in a dilapidated factory building which some anarchic collective had occupied, or she would be invited to attend some obscure new clubs opening in the basement of some long-forgotten hospital or water tower, or she would be asked to come to an abandoned railway control center to witness the presentation of a new art installation. A lot of people with a lot of piercings would be there too, artists and would-be artists and their entourages, a veritable collection of crazies, egocentrics and sociopaths. A lot of chemical and biological drugs would be passed around. A lot of weird fun was to be had. More often than not Martine would, at some point, notice that Tanja was there too.

„Most of these people are crazy", Tanja once said with a sardonic yet miracously warm smile. "Most of their art is essentially an expression of their despair /slash/ hope that one day they'll finally be 'discovered' and that finally they'll experience their breakthrough, and that they never again will have to install their neon-noir light-installation bullshit in some kind of asbestos-contaminated ruin that might collapse over their heads at any given moment." The beautiful blonde woman then took a sip from her drink. „But you know what? That's exactly why I love to spend my weekends with them. Plus, I sometimes get laid by one of the artists, and that's a pretty nice bonus."

As time went by, Martine found a new friend in Tanja. Since they all drifted in the same sub-cultural torrent, it was easy for Martine to introduce Tanja and Fred only a while later.

At that point she had already started to become more and more frustrated with her lover. It was not that she couldn't like him the way he was. Martine did not need rough sex or a dominant man in her life to feel happy or fulfilled. She respected Fred for being able to show weakness, to be thoughtful and warm and tender.

No, her frustration did not stem from her own disappointment or unfulfilled needs - instead it originated in how she could clearly perceive how unhappy Fred was. He did not fully use his potential, and he knew it. He was so quick-minded and charismatic when he wanted to, but his own insecurities blocked him. His fantasies - Martine still had to smile when she thought about the videos she had found on his laptop, with women in cruel bondage and dressed as horses or dogs - were just a symptom of that, she assumed. Fred was a guy caught in his own self-doubts, unable to break free. It was sad to witness, and no matter how much she liked him... the more time passed the more Martine came to the conclusion that she should better end their affair quickly before her infatuation with him turned into pity.

And then... she had not even planned this, but suddenly another month had passed and they were in Tanjas' study. It had been another surreal Saturday night. They had all drank too much and also there had been some cocaine and some amphetamines and... well, essentially they all had been pretty damn wasted. But wasted in a good way: While the sun rose again and the new day began, they all sipped wine, smoked pot and relaxed, cooling off after a crazy, exhausting night of clubbing in unusual places.

"So, you're a hypnotherapist?", someone had asked. "Does that mean you can turn people into chickens?" They had been eight or ten people, several of whom had already been half-asleep at that point.

Tanja had smiled warmly. She had not looked as tired as the others, just a little drunk at best. "No, I can't hypnotize just everyone", her answer had been. "Some people can be hypnotized easily, but others... not so much. I only find out if someone is a good subject for hypnosis when I try it out."

The words had come out of Martines mouth before she had even realized that she was going to speak them: "Try it with Fred."

Fred had been surprised, and he had protested. But somehow Martine had turned it all into a party game, something harmless and funny. She had made it sound like a silly little exercise, something they would all chuckle about later.

And so, five minutes later Tanja had turned on some relaxing music, had shown Fred a video with changing and transforming shapes on her notebook's display and had begun talking to him, in a calm and soothing voice that had it made hard for Martine to not drift away herself.

And it had worked. "Faster than I would have thought", Tanja had said. By then, most of the others had been asleep. This had been between Tanja and Martine and Fred. The latter had a very solemn look on his face, his eyes closed and his voice cold and emotionless whenever Tanja asked him a question.

"I want you to picture a very special place", Tanja had told Fred after she had gotten some hints from Martine. "You are in a large room, Fred. Actually, the room is a gigantic hall, its roof too far above you to be visible. And that hall contains everything you can possibly imagine about yourself. All the possibilities, all your strengths and options, all your traits. It's a place of wonder, filled with a net of flashing strands of energy and of interconnected threats of pure light. This is what makes you you, Fred. And you can see and understand every tiny detail of it, better than ever before in your life."

Then, with a curious look on her face, Tanja had turned to Martine. "I'm not sure what you expect me to do now, Martine. Maybe you want to take over? Tell Fred what you want him to do, or what you want him to consider. Just remember this: He will ultimately decide for himself what he makes out of your propositions. And whatever you tell him to do, you will never be able to make him act against his nature."

Martine had nodded. At that point she had not thought too much about what she was doing, or what the consequences might be. "Don't worry. I would never want him to do anything that would be against his nature", she had told Martine. Then, she had said to Fred: "I want you to alter the net you are seeing. There must be some of those strands of light that represent fear, or shame, or doubt. And, if you can, I want you to cut those strands. I want you to change it all, so you can be free. You are a great guy and you have so much potential. I want you to be yourself, as much as you possibly can."

Fred had hesitated only for a moment. Then, still in his trance, he had nodded. "I can do that", his answer had been. He had said nothing more until Tanja had brought him back from the trance a minute later.

Now that she was crying, struggling with the cruel bondage while sweat trickled down her tortured, naked body, with her thoughts racing in her head and Fred waiting for her answer, Martine remembered the things she had said to him more clearly than anything else in her life.

Obviously, what she had asked from Fred had not been against his nature. He was more himself than he had ever been before. And the plans he had for her filled Martine with pure dread.


Author's Note: Readers who already know my style will also know that I write dark, mostly non-consensual stories. This is one of them.

For readers who havent yet tried me out, this is a warning: If you are not into pretty disturbing, dark bdsm and sadism, this isnt for you.

I'm writing this because there have been complaints before, and I don't publish this stuff to ruin peoples' days. I just do it to ruin *fictional characters'* days (and lives).


Chapter 3 (added: 2017/08/13)

"How do you feel?" They were in his bedroom, late at night. A private evening, part of their top secret 'arrangement' (a term they had agreed on using, because calling it 'that, um, you know, that on/off-fuckbuddy-relationshippy kind of thing between two confused and not-ready-to-commit adults we have going here' might have been more precise, but already much too honest).

Fred's eyes were focused on hers, but all the while he kept them Martine's face, his hands worked behind her back: The chord had tightened a little more, had sunk just a little deeper into Martine's skin. The set of ropes he had placed around her body pulled her arms further together behind her back, secured them against her body, criss-crossed between her breasts. It all felt so hyperreal to her: The bondage aroused her, thrilled her. The way Fred looked at her, just for a heartbeat, made her feel like his prey. She giggled, slightly exhilarated. She twitched as he pinched her nipple hard, the pain shocking her. She drew in air to complain and scream at him, and he pulled her against him, kissing her.

"You bastard", she mumbled with her eyes closed, once the kiss was over. The pain was subsiding. The mix of emotions was utterly confusing. She felt horny and at the same time there was more than a hint of humiliation, and even a little bit of anger. And, for whatever fucked-up reason, she also felt proud that she was here with him, allowed him to do this and was strong and confident enough to have a man treat her like this.

"You fucking asshole", she said with her calmest voice, but deliberately keeping her eyes still closed. "That really hurt."

"That's good. I enjoy hurting you." She saw him smile when her eyelids fluttered, surprised by the brightness and unflinching honesty that were reflected in that smile.

The better part of a year had passed since Tanja had hypnotized him, and Martine had long realized that it had been more than a neat party trick. It had worked on a pretty deep level. Was still working. Fred was different now.

Involuntarily, Martine made her hands into fists behind her back. With a small amount of willoper she forced herself to relax again, sweaty fingertips touching the ropes that held her, but not finding the knots. "Well", she said in a conversational tone, "I think it's better you apologize fast Mister, because if you don't you'll not get... aaaah..."

They had both been kneeling on his bed, and since Martine's legs had slightly been spread, he had been able to just put his hand on her pussy. He stroked it, parted her moist lips with his warm fingers and expertly slipped a finger into her while the tip of another finger found her clit and began to massage it. She melted away, shuddered, leaned against him. He grabbed her hair, pulled her head backwards.

"I know that I used to apologize a lot", he said. "I just don't feel as often inclined to do that as I did before. Don't worry, I still want you. I still want you close to me. It's not that I don't care, I just..." His gaze flickered, just a little. "Something has changed. I'm not sure what it is. Does it matter?"

Martine shook her head quickly, a deep moan on her lips. His touch felt too good. She hadn't yet told Fred about what Tanja had done, and this was definitely not a good moment to own up. There was raw energy vibrating in his voice, a deep lust and something else. Something... mocking? It turned her on so incredibly that she could hardly collect a thought.

When he pushed her, she fell backwards on the mattress. When he climbed upon her, she spread her legs and allowed him to slip into her. She moaned loudly, and then only muffled when his hand found her mouth. With his hand pressing down on her lips she could only writhe under him, try to ignore the discomfort in her tied arms and let him take her, fuck her and ride her, until the orgasm rolled over her and through her like an electric shockwave.

An hour later Martine was free of the ropes, half asleep on the bed, sweat drying on her skin. The pain was subsiding, but the afterglow of her orgasm subsided much slower, and so it was all fine. She would have to wear something long-sleeved tomorrow, to hide the bruises. She did not mind that a lot. It was fall already and cool outside anyways.

She must have nodded off, because suddenly Fred was gone. She got up and wandered through his apartment. Rain sprayed against the windows of the living room. The place seemed larger in the darkness and larger still now that most of Fred's stuff was packed in crates or already over at the new house he had bought. Soon, all rooms here would be empty, deserted and lifeless. It startled Martine how much the thought affected her. Was it because here they had made love for the first time? Was it because she had always associated Fred with this chaotic, old-fashioned, cramped and utterly endearing apartment?

Whatever the reason was, Fred earned a lot more money now that they had made him a partner. He had gone from 'well-liked employee' to 'essential asset' in record time. It had not even cost him an effort, because now he liked being around people. Building networks and persuading those who needed to be persuaded seemed to be nearly too little a challenge for him. The new place he had bought - a large apartment downtown - fitted his new role a lot better.

But they were not in that new apartment yet, and here in his old place there were not many more rooms in which he could be. Martine heard his voice coming from his small office. On bare feet she did not make much of a noise as she approached the door. It was not completely closed. Fred was talking in a low voice to someone, either on the telephone or via the internet.

"The measurements should be very exact. I checked again, only minutes ago. Yes. No, you don't have to do that."

He paused, as if listening and then considering what the other person had said.

"Well, I studied your designs very carefully. I think they are perfect, on a functional level. I've done my homework. I know, yes. You are one of the best, when it comes to these things." He listened, then grunted in agreement.

"Yey, what we are discussing now are purely stylistic choices. I know the padded straps would be more than enough. But I would prefer the arms covered, the material looking as natural as possible. And it is not a problem if it feels heavy to her, at first. In fact I would prefer it. Her comfort is not my priority." He laughed, under his breath. "Yes, I should have known that you get to hear that a lot."

Martine smiled, confused but also charmed. Was he discussing a present for her? Was this about jewelry or - more likely, since it would cover the arms - some kind of robe? It was sweet, but also made her feel uneasy because she considered herself the independent type. True, Freds income was now much higher than hers. She still was not sure if she wanted him to buy expensive stuff for her. It might upset the balance of their 'that, um, you know, that on/off-fuckbuddy-relationshippy kind of thing between two confused and not-ready-to-commit adults we have going here'.

Fred ended the conversation with a pleasantry and hung up. Martine hurried back to bed before he could sense her in the corridor. Later that night they had sex again - this time much more tender but just as lustful as the first time. While she moved atop of him, her skin looking lighter than it normally did in the half-light, Martine imagined just for a brief moment that she was fucking a different guy. Not that she would really have wanted a different guy - she was happy with Fred.

It was just so easy to entertain the idea for a moment, simply for fun, because right now in the semi-dark bedroom Fred's upper half was covered in shadows and his head and face where invisible to her.


Chapter 4

„It's great seeing you again, Martine. I was really longing for this."

"It's great to be here, Fred. I'm glad that I finally get to see how you live now."

Martine and Fred both smiled, raised their glasses for a toast and each took a sip of red wine. It was about a year later, on a warm evening in April.

For months, Fred had made himself extremely scarce. He had told Martine that he spent most of his time either on business trips or supervising the refurbishment of his new house. They had hardly managed to see each other at all, and when they did it had only been for short, secret trips to other cities where they had met in anonymity and had stayed in hotels under false names. But now that most of the work was finished, Fred had finally sent a car that had brought Martine to his new home.

And what a home it was! The old farmhouse - now thoroughly modernized and quite luxurious - was far from the city, in a patch of hills and woodland that seemed about as removed from civilization as possible. The drive had been nearly two hours long and now it felt to Martine like she wasn't even in the same country anymore.

But it was a beautiful place, and seeing Fred again - in combination with the red wine and an excellent meal - had gotten her pretty light-headed already. She giggled, leaned back in her comfy chair and looked around.

"The compound seems so large! Is this all yours?"

"It is", nodded Fred. "But don't allow yourself to be too impressed, Martine. In this wilderness, land is impossibly cheap. My closest neighbor is living about fifteen miles to the east, behind what seems to be an impassable swamp." He chuckled.

Fred had something about him today that slightly confused Martine. She still called post-hypnosis-Fred 'New Fred' in her mind and 'New Fred' seemed more present today then he normally was. It wasn't just the confidence; it was the way he sometimes looked at her. Was this how a mouse felt when a cat watched it?

Martine speculated if she would again find herself tied up tonight. It wasn't that their forays into BDSM didn't turn her on. But there was this little voice at the back of her head, still occasionally asking her if Fred's changed behavior was normal, and just what exactly was going on behind his intelligent brown eyes.

Now he gazed at the horizon, where the sun was beginning to set. He stood up, left his glass on the table and offered Martine his hand.

"I have something for you. It's been waiting for you, for quite a while now. Do you want to see it?"

For a moment she was flummoxed. She had literally no idea what this was about. Then she remembered how she had stumbled upon that email, the one in which he had discussed some kind of present that would be custom-made for her.

Right now Martine was quite thankful for the darker tone of her skin, because as she took his hand and stood up she could feel her cheeks flushing. She smiled, mumbled something about how curious he had just made her, and followed Fred towards the house.

But then it turned out that it wasn't the house itself he was heading to - instead he led Martine to the large stables that were right next to it.

"Wait, you did not buy me a horse, did you?" Martine was grinning now, exhilarated and a little silly. "I'm a city girl. I cannot ride horses. I don't want a horse. I would most likely sell it and use the money to buy a new, extra-decadent coffee maker!"

"It's fine, calm down." Fred pulled her a little against himself, planted a quick, sweet kiss on her nose and took a key from his pocket to unlock the heavy stable doors. "I am not going to give you a horse. I may have changed a little since you had me hypnotized, but I'm not a lunatic."

Martine's heart skipped a beat and she froze.

"Wait... you know that you got hypnotized...?"

He seemed relaxed about it. He was still smiling. "Yes, of course I know. It's a weird feeling, having that before/after-experience. On one hand it feels like I'm still the same guy, on the other hand I know that I have gained such a remarkable kind of freedom... it's hard to explain. But yeah, I know what you had Tanja do."

"I was kind of worried that you would be angry", Martine admitted. "I made Tanja promise she would never tell you." She felt awkward now, and when Fred opened the door to the stables she stepped inside without looking much around, still focused on his face.

"It's fine", he assured her. "In fact I'm glad that you talked Tanja into hypnotizing me. It's the best thing that ever happened to me in my life."

Martine felt relieved, but only until she looked away from his face and focused her attention on the building they had just entered: She had assumed that, while it still looked like stables from the outside, inside it would be something different - like a private spa or a guesthouse. But no, there was fresh hay on the ground and she could see one row of boxes on the left and another on the right, separated by a long corridor. Wooden racks with what looked like harnesses and riding equipment on them had been placed along the walls.

"Wow", she muttered confused. "This is pretty impressive, but if you don't plan to breed horses, what are you going to do with it And why are we here?"

"We're visiting Tanja", Fred answered. He unlocked one of the boxes and opened the heavy wooden door. "Come on girl, let's take a look at you. Don't be shy."

It was quite dark inside and it took Martine's eyes a moment to adjust. Then she could make out a figure shuffling towards them. A moment later she saw that it was indeed a woman, but under no circumstances had she recognized Tanja if Fred had not told her beforehand who this was.

The female that reluctantly moved in their direction was a bizarre sight: Tall and quite athletic as she was, it seemed an impossible task to tell her actual age, especially because her blonde hair was shaved extremely short. The fact that her medium-sized breasts were sagging a little gave away that she most likely wasn't a teenager anymore, but apart from that she could as well have been 29 or 55 years old.

What was obvious was that she followed an incredible workout routine: her legs were muscular and her belly was remarkably firm with a visible sixpack showing.

But Martine didn't spent much time admiring the woman's slender, athletic body, because the way it was presented overshadowed it all:

She was wearing a tight-fitting harness of interconnected leather straps and from the look of it had her arms pinned tightly to her back, possibly in an armbinder or a similar contraption. A heavy, high collar encased her throat and was connected to a head-harness which consisted of thin leather straps running under her chin, across her face and behind her head. The head-harness held a gag in place that was a hybrid of bit- and half ball-gag. It forced the females' face into a sort or tortured, drooling grin. Blinders were attached to the sides of her face, limiting her vision.

The shocking cruelty didn't stop there: From the body-harness downwards ran another strap. This one went through the victims crotch, pressing deep into her pussy so that the dark leather was half swallowed by her vaginal lips. Martine couldn't be sure about this, but judging from the whole design she could at least imagine that a dildo was held by the strap inside this poor woman. She immediately asked herself if the female was wearing a butt plug too - at least, as far as Martine knew, a lot of Doms found the plug-and-tail combo especially sweet and sexy when it came to ponygirls.

A pair of heavy boots completed the outfit: They were shaped likea horses hooves and obviously forced the wearer to walk more or less completely on the balls of her feet.

Martine stared, speechless. The woman was shaking, drooling, producing a just barely audible whimpering noise under her breath. Her lips quivered around the gag. The fact that her soft, light skin was covered in fresh and older welts - especially across her thighs - spoke volumes. Her large, green, tear-filled eyes said even more about the level of her consent concerning her dehumanizing treatment.

And yes, Martine realized: These green, broken eyes were definitely Tanja's. The strong, sophisticated woman had, unbeknownst to Martine, met a terrible fate at some point during the past 12 months.


Chapter 5

Martine was surprised by her own physical reaction, because it was so ambiguous: In her stomach a tight knot formed, her face flushed immediately and her breathing sped up. While her nipples hardened, her legs suddenly felt soft and unsteady. Her hands were cold as ice.

She stared at Tanja and Tanja stared back at her, wide eyes blinking slowly, lips trembling around the gag. It was all surreal, from the way the straps of the head-harness dug into Tanja's cheeks and obscured her face to the way her naked breasts with their pierced nipples were displayed in this degrading, cruel manner. Had Martine for a few heartbeats been insecure if this was some kind of consensual, kinky game between Fred and Tanja, she now was more sure with every passing second: The classy, stylish Blonde would never have agreed to being trussed up and displayed like this. It was unthinkable!

Things became even more surreal when Tanja tried to speak: She produced a short string of unintelligible noises. To Martine it seemed her 'voice' was quite coarse for whatever reason. But Tanja did not get far anyways, with her attempt to communicate: Fred slapped her butt hard, so hard in fact that the smacking noise rang in Martine's ears and made her flinch. Tanja bit on her gag, winced in the bondage and produced a tortured, pain-filled scream. She sounded more like a beast than a human.

"She did not know that she would see another living person today", Fred said in a casual tone that would have been very appropriate for discussing the weather. "I am pretty sure she is as shocked as you, but for different reasons."

"Obviously", Martine said dryly. She did not know what to think or what kind of reaction Fred expected. But she or course realized how closely Fred was watching her, and that she was all alone here with him. She realized how secluded, how very(!) secluded the farm and the mansion were. She could smell the leather of the bonds that held Tanja, her sweaty skin and something else, maybe the scent of pure fear and degradation. "She looks... oh, well, it's really impressive. I did not know you two were together or that she was so...." She swallowed. "... so kinky..."

Immediately Tanja protested. She shook her head as good as the thick collar around her neck allowed and Martine could see her arms tense and struggle inside the armbinder that held them. The leather creaked a little, but it did not give way - not even a little.

While Tanja used all her energy to show Martine that she had not consented to this treatment, Fred just smiled, went to one of the nearby racks and took a crop from it. Tanja protested even louder now, her wide eyes searching for Martine's. Her voice was shrill and she was obviously begging for Martine's help. Then the crop hit Tanja's already bruised butt cheek and left a fresh red welt on her skin, where so many traces of punishment in black, blue, red, green and yellow were already visible. The pain caused the Ponygirl to nearly choke. Fresh tears ran across her face and she went silent, trembling.

"You are not stupid, Darling." Martine could not say if Fred hat said that to her or to his 'Pony', but what he added was clearly meant for her: "You know that Tanja would never agree to something like this. You are very aware that I did this to her against her will, huh?"

Martine nodded. She wanted out of here, away from this madman. At the same time she wanted answers. This was too much, too intense and too extreme. The kinkiness was breathtaking, the sheer darkness of the situation impressed her on a level she did not even understand.

It just all happened to fast. There was no time to come up with a good strategy. The words came out of her mouth just by themselves.

"Yes, you are right. She does not look like she is too happy, so I figured that you forced her into this. How did you do it?"

"It was easier than you would have thought", Fred said with a shrug. "There were some obstacles I could overcome with the right amount of money, bribes and such. There were other aspects that could only be solved through preparations and logistics. The end result was that one night, after a vernissage at the docks our beloved Tanja met me and got into my carbecause she thought I was bringing her back to her home." He looked at Tanja and took the leash that was attached to her collar. Standing next to the degraded woman he seemed proud - and even more so as she now produced another loud sob while she listened to how he had abducted her.

Fred recounted: "Tanja was single, has had changing partners and a lot of on/off-stuff going on, she does not often talk to her sister, who is her only living relative and resides in France. Tanja also is her own boss, so there are no co-workers that would miss her. She's been here for half a year and there is still no official investigation. And if they ever start one, they will soon realize that there is no trail, not even a cold one."

Martine felt dizzy. "You put so much effort into it, Fred. It's impressive in a way, but it's also fucking scary." In spite of herself and visibly to Tanja's shock she laughed. Her laughter sounded quite hysteric.

Fred grinned. "Well, a lot of things, no matter how hard they seem, are actually easy to achieve. That is, if you don't allow yourself to be scared, and if you really concentrate your efforts on your goal."

"Is that what the hypnosis did to you? It just gave you the ability to not be scared anymore?"

Fred looked impressed. "Quite so. I am still me, just with some of the more depressing character traits gone. This is me without the self-doubt and the endless pondering. You know I always had thoughts like these and I always wanted to own a woman like her. But I would never have found the strength to do it. Shit, I was already scared to death when you literally begged me to tie you to the bed. Do you remember that night?"

Martine's heart was still beating much too fast, but she felt better now. She realized that she might be in grave danger, but at the same time she felt relieved. Something had been wrong with Fred. She had not understood what it was. Now she knew, and knowing somehow made her feel better.

"Depressing character traits... what you mean is your conscience", she said. "Fred, you are talking about not having a conscience anymore!"

Fred shook his head. "I do very much have a conscience, Martine. But I can choose when and if I listen to it. In the past it dictated who I was. Now it is merely one of several advisors."

Martine hesitated. "And that advisor could not stop you from doing this to Tanja? It's inhuman, it's cruel. This is not bdsm, it is not even a kink, it's... it's slavery, Fred. I mean look at her, how can you expect her to live like this?"

"Oh, she is doing fine", Fred said nonchalantly and not bothered by Tanja sobbing right next to him. "The bondage and the equipment I use is excellent and I make very sure that she stays healthy. I am part of a small group of people who exchange experiences and best-practice. A friend of mine, an experienced physician, has the same hobby and owns a pair of ponies too. He occasionally checks on Tanja and says she is in exceptional health."

"Except for the constant bondage, the welts and bruises and the horrified crying fits", Martine muttered sarcastically.

Fred smiled. "That's why I love you. Your wit always impressed me. By the way, she was a lot calmer during the past months. Seeing you must have overexcited her." He took a step towards Martine.

Martine quickly took a step backwards, trying to not let him get closer to her. "Fred, even if Tanja was the healthiest person on the planet in your care... she does not want this!"

"I did not want to be changed by you." He took another step forward.

"Fred... that is not the same thing!"

"You are right, it's not. But you wanted me to be 'free', did you not? You wanted to see my darkness, because it aroused you. You wanted me stronger and more dedicated, and you never asked me if I wanted that too. Just as you never asked me what I would be dedicated to(!) if you achieved your goal."

Suddenly he took a small black device from the back of his belt. It had not been there during their dinner, and now Martine realized that Tanja had not just been begging her for help when Fred had went to the rack! No, instead she had tried to warn her! Because as Fred had taken the crop from the rack, he secretly had also taken this thing.

He switched it on and a flickering blue spark appeared on its tip. He swung it and with a clicking noise it doubled in length. It was a stun-gun, sophisticated and mean looking.

"You didn't care if I consented, because you thought it would be an improvement if I changed", Fred said with a cool smile. "And guess what, Martine: I am having the same thoughts about you."

She whirled around, already knowing that she had no chance. He was too close, he was in excellent shape and he had a weapon. She had nothing. Even if she made it out of the stable...

But she did not. Only two steps and already something hit her back. It felt cold and hot at the same time. It hurt like hell. I caused her muscles to cramp and twitch and then she fell. She heard someone scream in pain and realized it was herself. She felt dirt on her cheek, lying on the ground. Her thoughts were spinning around in endless circles and the pain didn't end. One of the last things she consciously saw was his boot standing right in front of her eyes, and then darkness engulfed Martine Benning.


Chapter 6 (added: 2019/08/25)

So that was how Martine had ended here: In a dark, hot room with the smell of her sweat and the juices of her cunt strong in the air. Her arms hurt like hell, because somehow Fred had managed to tie them in a way that did not allow them to go all numb. Twisted into a cruel reverse prayer, secured with rope around the wrists and forearms, her hands were pinned between her shoulder blades. That way they were completely useless to Martine and very useful only to Fred, as another way of keeping her in constant discomfort.

Once more she nearly nodded off from sheer exhaustion, just to feel the pinch of his fingers, kneading the flesh of her cuntlips. With a drawn-out moan escaping her throat she rocked upwards, her eyes flying open, her nostrils flaring as he slowly pushed a finger into her. She bit hard on the ballgag, felt drool drip down her lower lip. What she could see of her own body was slick with sweat.

"You are beautiful, Martine." His face was close to hers and his smile was completely honest. In the gloom of the windowless cell, his hand looked absurdly pale as it lay on her brown skin. "But you look tired. I want to get you out of this predicament. But you must help me to help you."

How long had she already been here? Was it all a bad dream? No, obviously not. The pain and humiliation were much too real for that. Martine tried to somehow get into a more comfortable position, as she had done at least a dozen times since she had regained consciousness, tied her up like this.

Once more, as soon as she strained her thighs to take pressure off her arms, she was reminded that her ankles were tied together behind the pole, and that from them, the rope ran upwards and was connected to the rest of her bondage. Martine's attempt to find some comfort would thus just tighten the rope that Fred had looped around her torso. Her feet would be pulled upwards until she was only balancing on her knees anymore and the rope around her throat would dig itself deeper into her skin. This, too, was painful and forced her to accept more pressure on her arms again, because now the strain on her thighs became unbearable. She ended up just where she had started.

Wailing, sobbing, shuddering she suffered, helpless and defeated. And so more time passed and the pain increased until it was nearly unbearable.

His voice came to her in the darkness as she was again close to nodding off.

"Is this the darkness you wanted to awake in me?" He sounded honestly curious.

"Nrgmmmmhhhh!" She shook her head like a madwoman, trying to plead with him

"Do you want to suffer some more, Martine? Your cunt seems to like it. It's soaking wet, warm and soft. Do you think it wants me to become yet a little darker?"

She shuddered when he placed the tip of a finger on her clitoris. She hated him. And hated herself.

He was a monster. But the 'old' Fred had to be in there somewhere... if only she could talk to him, if only she could somehow get through...

"Do you want me to take the gag out, Martine?"

She nodded, desperately. She felt a tinge of hope as he pulled the ballgag with a 'pop' from her mouth. She coughed and wheezed and then tried to speak. But he placed a finger on her lips.

"You know what I want you to say."

"Please... no." She was shocked by how coarse and tired she sounded. This did not seem to be her own voice anymore.

"Yes, Martine. You're not getting out of here before you say it. It's been two days already. You have resisted all you could. But you are defeated, and you need to admit it now."

"You can't do this to me, it's not..."

He laughed, but it was not the laugh of a villain. He sounded like a man who just saw things from a completely different perspective, and this made it a lot worse.

"We have had this conversation five times in the past 48 hours. You know what I want you to say. If you don't say it, then you'll stay here and we will just try this again a little later. But nothing is going to chance. No one is going to find you, or Tanja. Your LinkedIn and Instagram both point people in completely different directions. They seriously think that you are on a hiking tour through the mountains, hundreds of miles away from here."

She stayed silent, apart from the occasional sob. He waited a little longer and then showed her a small bottle with water and a granola-bar.

"It's fine Martine. If you are not ready, then you get this. And afterwards, I gag you again. But I promise you, that you will achieve nothing by forcing me to torture you."

She knew that this was an inhumane, sadistic and twisted way of seeing things. But the realization that he really saw things this way still shook her to the core.

He felt no empathy for her, no remorse or guilt. He was thrilled, amused, aroused. To him it seemed as if he was just doing what Tanja and Martine had wanted him to do all along. He would not stop torturing her. He would not change his plan. She could not win.

With despairing clarity Martine knew what would happen, because it had already happened several times before: Fred would let her drink and he would feed her the granola bar. She would not be able to say no, hungry and thirsty as she was. She would regain some of her strength, would be able to get through all this a little longer. He would continue torturing her.

She felt like a woman losing her sanity. In spite of herself she started to laugh. It was a hollow, weak, desperate sound.

She was defeated. He knew it. She knew it. Why keep up the act?

"Just one question.... Please Fred, please, be honest... how long did you have to do this... before Tanja said what you wanted to hear?"

He ran a hand through her blonde curls and caressed her cheek.

"Say what I told you to say. I promise I will answer your question after that."

Despite the damp heat, Martine was now covered in gooseflesh. Her nipples were so hard that they were positively hurting, but it was, of course, nothing compared to the torture she had already gone through. She hated herself. Hated herself so much, despised her weakness. She looked him in the eyes, hesitating for another moment. But she just wanted this to be over. Her mind was in chaos and confusion, her willpower diminished, her body exhausted. She just had no reserves left anymore.

"Please... I want to be... I want to be your ponygirl, Fred."

He looked relieved and more than just a bit satisfied. He nodded. With a soft voice he asked her: "Are you sure? I will keep you for the rest of your life. You will be mine now, and I will give you a new name and turn you into a creature I can train and love."

She was so close to screaming 'no!' into his face. But she could not bear this predicament anymore, and she knew that no help would be coming.

"Y... yes", she said with tears in her eyes and snot in her nose. "Yes I'm sure... please do it."

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. His eyes showed how thrilled he was.

"Good girl", he said. "I'll admit, you made this quite difficult for me. But not as difficult as Tanja: She held out nearly twice as long as you."

He showed Martine a heavy, thick leather collar. A small metal tag was attached to it. She could read her new name on it: 'Darkness'.