B&D Academy Chapter 3

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Mariko and Courtney thought they'd seen enough bondage to last a lifetime.
They hadn't seen anything yet! Their epic adventure, which began in BL 31,
continues...

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In the weeks that followed, Mariko and Courtney came to realize the true
nature of their captivity. From the beginning they had been so dazzled, so
stunned by the whole experience that there had been no chance of making
sense of it all. It had seemed as if Allison's entire estate existed for one
purpose only - to make their lives miserable. With time, they began to
understand that much of what they saw and experienced was a facade, an act
put on for their benefit. All of the people who handled them, the stable
hands, the trainers, the dressers, the make-up lady, all of them had other,
more normal jobs to attend to most of the time. While some of them truly
enjoyed their roles, dominating and controling the captive girls, others
considered it a silly game, an indulgance in Allison's eccentricity.

This they learned from the make-up lady, who, in an unguarded moment,
expressed her feelings on the matter while talking on the phone to a friend.
She'd been in the next room, and hadn't realized that the two strapped and
gagged girls could hear every word she said. Something else they realized
was that, while everything they experienced seemed ridiculous, mere bits of
cruel whimsey, beneath it all there was actually some hidden purpose to it.
Allison sometimes made vague references to a "training program" and she
liked to call it the "B&D Academy," though just what that meant they had no
idea. Their daily regimen was as strict as if they were in training, and it
seemed to include scheduled events. There seemed to be some pretense that it
was a riding academy, but the girls rarely saw a horse, and when they did
ride they were never in control. The pretense was merely an excuse to get
them into tight riding pants and knee boots, they suspected, and to justify
all the leather harnesses and paraphernalia they were made to wear. All
their trainers carried riding crops, and used them fairly liberally on the
girls' buttocks and flanks during the course of their training.

The emphasis during all this, the one constant, seemed to be discipline.
Whatever the activity, whatever the trappings or pretense might be, there
was always the necessity to obey simple commands quickly and
enthusiastically. The conditions under which they must perform were often
made difficult to nearly impossible, and more than once the girls were
driven to frantic tears before a lesson was done. For four weeks their
training continued, and throughout all of it, Mariko and Courtney were never
once allowed to converse with each other. They were bathed and tended alone,
they slept alone, and during the day they were always gagged. They could
relay basic emotions and sympathize with each other through facial
expressions, but never could they compare notes, discuss their situation, or
make any coordinated plans for escape.

As the days dragged on, Mariko felt more and more guilty that she had
gotten her friend Courtney involved in this. She wanted in some way to
reassure the girl, and sometimes she even wanted to confess everything to
her, tell her about her deal with Ivan Rasovitz and how it had gotten them
into this mess. She was certain that when this was all over, Ivan would take
care of Courtney as well as herself. It was the least he could do after all
they had been through for him. Mariko wanted at least to let her friend know
why she was being put through all this, and that it would be all right when
it was over. If only she could be alone with Courtney, without the
ever-present gags in their mouths! But that just never seemed to happen.

There was a mystery that plagued Mariko as well. Allison's estate was
quite well equipped for the handling of girls who were "in training." The
staff seemed to consider it commonplace to see them being led around the
grounds bound and gagged at the end of a harness, and their handlers seemed
experienced. References were often made in their presence to previous
"trainees." So where were they? Where had they come from and, more
importantly, what had become of them after their training? Mariko had never
seen anyone else being kept in bondage. If there had been a number of girls
before them, where were they now? What had been their offense, that they
should be put through this? Surely there weren't that many spies caught
within the B&D Cosmetics Corporation. When Allison couldn't catch anyone
red-handed, did she steal girls off the street? These were some of the
questions that bothered Mariko, particularly where they applied to her own
situation. Assuming she never broke down and confessed to Allison, which she
had no intention of doing, what would happen to her and Courtney? It had
been nearly a month since that awful ride they had taken with Allison. Their
trainers had begun to prepare them for some big event that was refered to as
"The Big Race." Mariko had no idea what it meant, but she gathered that it
marked the end of their training at the "B&D Academy."

When the day came, she still had no idea what to expect. Mariko found
herself, as she had so many times now, naked and attached to the dressing
bench. The chromium apparatus held her securely in place while her
attendants dressed her for the big event. As they worked, there was an air
of expectancy that had never been there before. Whatever was in store for
her, Mariko knew it was important to everyone else. Somehow, she was unable
to summon up any feelings but dread and anxiety. As usual, no one asked or
cared how she felt. First, she was fitted with a leather head harness. This
was equipped with side blinders and a pair of swivel attachments at her
temples. While the several buckles were being adjusted, a black shirt with
long sleeves was being slid up her arms. It was made of gottex, and as it
was zipped up in back, it hugged her body skin-tight. Black gloves were put
on her hands, and she noticed without surprise that they didn't include
thumbs.

Next a heavy and complicated body harness was lifted onto her shoulders,
and all three of her dressers set about cinching and buckling the many
straps that held it in place. As it was cinched tightly about her, it seemed
almost as if it had been made specifically for her, it fit so snugly, but
Mariko figured that this was probably only because it had so many adjustment
straps. Her arms were brought behind her and folded into the small of her
back, where they were neatly strapped into perfectly formed indentations in
the harness. When she turned her head to look, Mariko noticed a pair of
metal brackets that stuck out about eight inches from the top of her
shoulders, right behind her head, and ended in metal loops. She couldn't
imagine what it could be for, but by now she was used to being fitted with
things she didn't understand. The harness had studded leather
shoulderboards, more fittings, buckles and rings than she could count, and a
studded triangular piece with a dangling strap that hung below her belt.
This part she had no trouble figuring out!

Now skin-tight gottex pants were being pulled up her legs. She braced
herself and, sure enough, the small seat of the contraption that held her
dropped out from under her just as she had known it would. Then the tight
leggings were being worked up around her waist, and Mariko realized with a
sinking feeling that the backside of them had been cut away in two neat
round holes to expose the bare flesh of her bottomcheeks. This, she thought,
is definitely shaping up to be a particularly unpleasant experience. Then
one of her dressers took the strap that dangled from the studded triangle
and threaded it between her legs, then through an adjacent buckle at the
back of her belt. As this strap was pulled tight, it was brought to her
attention that the triangle between her legs was equipped with one more stud
than was visible from the outside. After the initial surprised gasp, she was
able to regain her composure.

Now her boots were being slid onto her feet. They were black leather
thigh boots, but the tops were folded down to reveal several straps and
buckles. These were buckled tightly around the tops of her calves just below
the knees to ensure that the boots would stay in place before the tops of
them were unrolled to reach to about mid-thigh. The boots had five-inch
heels, which was low compared to some of the shoes Mariko had been strapped
into during the past month. As she was looking down at them, she was ordered
to raise her head, and a thick leather yolk-like collar was brought under
her chin and strapped around her neck. It snapped into place on the body
harness, and came up so high under her ears and around the back of her neck
that she found she could no longer turn her head even a little.

Then a rubber bit was placed firmly in her unresisting mouth, and the
braces at the sides were snapped onto the swivels at her temples. Two long
narrow leather straps dangled from the braces, and these were drawn back and
threaded through the brackets that projected out from her shoulders. Mariko
was now effectively bridled, and a couple of experimental tugs on the reins
by one of the dressers pulled the solid rubber bit back between her teeth
and pulled at the corners of her mouth. This, thought Mariko, is definitely
not going to be one of my better experiences. She was now, apparently, ready
for the race. She was disengaged from her dressing bench and led by her
reins out into the hall. The ride in the little electric golf cart was
uneventful, and eventually she was brought to the racetrack. She had been
here before, but at the time it had been to ride a horse. This time, Mariko
suspected there would be no horse. She was right.

As she was led onto the track, she saw that Courtney had already arrived.
The pretty blonde was trapped out in a harness just like Mariko's in design,
but colored differently. Where Mariko wore black leather over black gottex,
Courtney wore a harness and boots of tan leather over white gottex. Mariko
blushed when she saw how obviously her friend's bare buns stuck out through
the neat round holes in her white leggings, and realized how much more
obvious her own must be surrounded by black. Courtney was already being
harnessed to a strange little three-wheeled cart. It was bullet-shaped, and
looked like a side-car for a motorcycle. The tongue to which Courtney was
being attached projected from the side of the cart, and ended in a bracket
that appeared to be made for this purpose. The cart was white like
Courtney's costume, and beyond it was a similar cart in black.

Beside the racetrack stood several decks of covered bleachers, which were
already starting to fill with people. As Mariko was led over to her cart,
she was painfully conscious of the exposed cheeks of her backside. When a
little cheer went up from the crowd in the bleachers, she didn't know if it
was for her or for her bare bottom, but she assumed the latter. As Mariko
was being hooked up to the tongue of her car, for a moment she was turned
toward the bleachers, and she scanned the crowd there. She was not surprised
to see that she recognized several of the people as being members of the
house staff, now wearing casual clothing. But then she spotted a group that
made her gasp in astonishment. There were girls in bondage up there! Pretty
young women with gags covering their mouths, their arms out of sight behind
them, and one with a collar and leash which was being held by a well-dressed
gentleman who sat beside her. Mariko had only a glimpse of them, but as she
was turned back around her mind was whirling. Could those girls in the
bleachers be alumni of the "B&D Academy?" Could that be the fate that she
and Courtney could expect after this, to spend the rest of their days bound
and gagged, being led around on leashes? Would they be given to Allison's
friends, or sold like slaves? Or might Allison be planning on keeping them
for herself? She did seem to enjoy her games with them immensely...

Mariko was snapped out of her conjectures by the arrival of Allison. The
slender redhead popped out of the limousine the moment it had stopped,
before the driver could get to her door, and stood in the sunlight grinning
with typical vivacity and girlish exuberance. She was dressed all in black,
with riding boots, tight leggings, and full blousy shirt with barrel
sleeves. Around her neck she wore a black bandana cowboy-style, and she
carried a riding crop in her black-gloved hand. Behind her another woman
appeared, a strikingly beautiful woman with long, wavy black hair. She was
voluptuous of figure, though certainly not overweight, and she wore an
outfit similar to Allison's except that it was all white, with tan leather
riding boots. Together, the two of them sauntered over to where Courtney and
Mariko were being prepared, their eyes sparkling with good humor.

Allison waved to the people in the stands, and was rewarded by a loud
cheer. When they arrived, they each inspected their cart and the girl
attached. It had been obvious by the color of the costumes which one was
theirs, and Mariko tried not to look at Allison's cheery face as she was
inspected. Allison checked all the fittings scrupulously, tugging at all the
straps to make sure they were tight. Satisfied, she slapped Mariko's naked
right bun and chuckled. Since Mariko couldn't turn her head and the
sideblinders prevented any peripheral view, Allison moved in "This is going
to be a great race," she said. "You and your friend Courtney are both in top
shape, and it's a splendid day for a race. When the starting gun goes off, I
want you to jump. We need to be first off the line. Courtney is a little
bigger than you, with longer legs, so they have the advantage over the long
haul. On the other hand, I'm lighter than her jockey, so we can be quicker."
With a gentle hand, she adjusted Mariko's bit between her teeth. "Just run
as fast as you can. Don't worry about steering, I do that part. All you have
to do is supply the motive power. The trick is to lean into the harness, but
keep your head up. I can remind you to keep it up by pulling on the reins;
if you clench the bit between your teeth it won't hurt at the corners of
your mouth. If I drag your head all the way back, it's time to stop, but I
won't be doing that until after we've crossed the finish line."

Now Allison leaned close, her voice going low. "I intend to win this
race. I have some friends in the stands whom I haven't seen in years, and
this race is important to me for their sake. If I don't win, I'm going to
make you very sorry. Immediately." As she stepped away, the grin returned to
her face. "Now that we understand each other," she said cheerily, "let's
have a good clean race!" Allison vaulted into the seat of the little car,
which was plushly appointed in black sheepskin. She took the reins in one
hand, the riding crop held loosely in the other, and with a light tug on the
reins signaled Mariko to go. As she leaned forward and thrust out with her
lithe, strong legs, the cart creaked and began to roll. Allison evidently
had a pair of pedals in the cart for steering, and she guided it in a wide
circle so she could wave again to her friends in the stands before moving
into position at the starting line. With the cart in motion, Mariko became
acutely aware of her position, both the vulnerability and the humiliation of
it. Allison rode comfortably right beside her, lounging on her sheepskin
seat while Mariko, trapped out and harnessed like a horse, would have to
sweat and strain to propel them around the track. And there were her bare
bottom-cheeks, of which she was still very much aware, and Allison's lolling
hand with the riding crop in it very handy indeed...

As they rolled up to the starting line, they found Courtney's cart there
waiting for them, her beautiful dark-haired jockey grinning over her
shoulder at them and tapping her crop against the side of the cart as if she
were impatient. They pulled slowly in alongside the other, and Allison
pulled back on the reins as if she needed to tell Mariko to stop. Mariko
hadn't been prepared for that, and the bit dug into the tender corners of
her mouth. Ruefully, she got a tighter grip on it with her teeth. A hush
fell over the crowd in the stands. Mariko set her feet and leaned forward,
preparing for a fast takeoff. Her vision narrowed by the sideblinders, she
couldn't tell if Courtney were doing the same, or if there was any nonverbal
communication between the jockeys.

Then, suddenly, a gun went off, and a half second later she felt the
first bite of the crop across the soft roundness of both cheeks. They were
off! Mariko must have been boosted by a sudden surge of adreneline, for they
were off to a powerful start and still accelerating, and she didn't remember
having to put much effort into it. Now she applied herself with all the
willpower she could muster, and could feel their speed increasing even more.
She became vaguely aware now of Allison's verbal urging to
"go,go,go,go,goooo!" and of the rythmic slap and sting of the riding crop on
her pumping buttocks, which had evidently been going on the whole time,
unnoticed in the rush of takeoff. For several minutes as they rounded the
first turn of the track, Mariko felt something akin to exultation. The wind
was rushing against her face, her body was running smoothly and gazel-like,
her heart was pumping, and the constant bite of the crop on her bare
backside barely hurt at all, seemed almost to add to her speed with its
subtle urging. In spite of everything she felt a strange sense of freedom in
being able to run, to stretch her legs out in an easy, unhobbled gait for
the first time in over a month. And she was winning! She was so far ahead
that she couldn't even hear the other cart behind them.

It came as a surprise to Mariko when, a little over half-way down the far
straightaway, Courtney passed her on the inside. Mariko watched her friend
in amazement. Courtney's body was taut and straining, desperate urgency and
determination in her attitude as she plunged ahead. Mariko stared for a
moment in fascination at Courtney's working backside, watched it tauten,
flex, jiggle, tauten, flex, jiggle, one cheek then the other as she ran, the
crop adding a staccato jiggle to the rhythm as it fell. Then suddenly she
felt a new sting of urgency as the blows to her own bottomcheeks increased
in both strength and rhythm. At once she realized that she was dropping
behind, and that the farther behind she got, the more angrily Allison
flailed at her. And she remembered her red-headed mistress's threat and knew
that if it came to pass, Allison would be cruel and vengeful indeed, for if
there was one thing Mariko knew about Allison, it was the fact that she
couldn't stand to lose.

Now Mariko began to push herself with a desperation she had never known
before. She remembered how Courtney had looked when she had passed her, and
she tried to match that intensity. She gave it everything she had, and still
she wasn't gaining on the cart ahead! She tried for more speed, more
determination, but it just wasn't there, and still the crop rained stinging
blows against her defenseless backside, still her feet pounded the track,
and still the cart ahead of them was no closer. And suddenly her futile
desperation blossomed into a warm blanket of surrender. She was losing the
race, she would accept Allison's punishment, and none of it mattered anyway.
She was slipping into a feeling of total submission, and even the impact of
the crop didn't hurt any more.

Then, inexplicably, something happened up ahead of her. She found out
later that Courtney had stumbled, just a single misstep, but it had thrown
off her rhythm, broken her concentration, and suddenly she was dropping
back. Mariko was beyond caring, and didn't even realize at first what it
meant when her cart pulled ahead just in time to cross the finish line.
Suddenly the bit between her teeth came alive, tugging her head back, and
she remembered that she was supposed to stop now. Gradually she slowed down,
gazing at the sky, letting her mistress guide the cart. She was only vaguely
aware of the cheers, the people crowding around her when she finally did
stop, the tongue of the cart being detached from her harness. The sense of
submission that she had felt on the track had been so overpowering that she
was in a daze. The feeling was all but gone now, yet she still felt it
somewhere within her, or maybe it was just the memory of it. She wanted it
back, but couldn't quite reach it.

Slowly she spiraled back down to reality, became aware of her panting,
heaving body, of the muted heat radiating from her buttocks, of Allison's
soft words of comfort as she wiped the tears from Mariko's eyes with her
bandana. With a little wordless cry she buried her head in Allison's
shoulder, not caring who saw her, not caring that Allison was her enemy.

After awhile, Allison pushed her firmly but gently away from her, and led
her away from the track. The short ride in the limo was wordless. By the
time they arrived back at the house, Mariko was beginning to wonder what had
happened to her, and how it would affect her future. She felt changed
somehow, and she felt a need to understand how. She knew that Allison
understood what had happened, but before she could figure out how to ask
her, the ride was over and she was being hustled out of the car and into the
house . She stood forgotten for a moment in the hallway while Allison gave
crisp orders to her staff; evidently there was about to be a huge party in
the house, and all the people who had attended the race would be there in
minutes. Finally Allison turned back to Mariko, tucked the loose bit-gag
back into her mouth and said, "Here, somebody take her back to her room and
have her handlers dress her for the party! They know how I want her."

As Mariko was led down the hall, she caught sight of Courtney. Disheveled
and dusty though she was, the blonde girl was beautiful in her leather
riding harness. As Mariko watched, the dark-haired beauty who had been
Courtney's jockey appeared in a doorway. She crooked a finger at Courtney, a
stern expression on her face. Courtney's eyes grew wide. She glanced
appealingly at Mariko, then swallowed and lowered her eyes. Slowly,
disconsolately, she obeyed her jockey and shuffled past her into the room.
The door closed with a solid and ominous thud followed by the click of the
lock, and then Mariko was led away.