BDSM Boot Camp · Bound 11 · Part 2 (2/2)
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Continuing to point at the ten bald submissives, he said, “Most of you are sexual sluts with almost uncontrollable urges. Some of you are even painsluts who crave the whip and paddle. That is what you are, and what you have released from within yourself in this first segment of boot camp.” He straightened and said quietly, but forcefully, “From this point on you will be considered potential slut-slaves in training.”
Gesturing toward those with hair, he said, “You others apparently are dominant— or at least, more dominant. You are eligible at this point to become trustees in training.”
He gave them all a very artificial smile, “That really doesn’t mean very much except that you get to wear a white bottom similar to the black bottoms worn by the trustees. Everyone, except the slut-slaves, will continue to call you slut. They— and only they— will call you Sir or Ma’am.”
He held up his hand as if making an important point and continued, “The white bottoms do mean, however, that you are moving forward toward possibly entering the Masters-in-Training program.”
He laughed, “It also means that you get to ride in the cart, while the slut-slave acts as your pony for the next four weeks.” He coughed and added, “… that is, after today.”
He pointed to the waiting carts and tack. “This afternoon, ALL of you will experience what it feels like to be a ponyslut. Trustees brenda and yvonne and the rest of the Masters-in-Training class will tack you out properly and then take you out on the rim trail. You will have blinders on so you absolutely must obey your drivers’ directions. Regardless of how dominant you are, you are forced to obey the commands of your driver. You cannot see clearly enough to direct yourself on the trail, and I would hate to lose one of you to an accident.”
He coughed slightly as if to close off that train of thought and then said, “I understand that trustees brenda and yvonne have been training you to prance properly. I expect that you will keep the proper step regardless of what speed you are commanded to go.”
He turned to those who would be driving the carts and said, “I also expect nothing faster than double time. I hold you each responsible for that.”
Turning back to the boot camp squad, he said “Come now and stand next to one of the carts. Whoever is assigned to that cart will tack you out and hitch you to the cart. I will be leading you all around the rim in my personal chariot.”
As he spoke, a chariot drew up next to him. It was pulled by two stunningly beautiful ponygirls who were tacked out in white. Their headdress feathers were at least two feet tall. Two silver chains ran from thick silver collars around their necks to their breasts where they attached to silver rings which pierced each nipple. A smaller chain then hung down from the same ring. On the end of the smaller chain was a bright, silver bell. Evidently each of the bells was a slightly different size because the note they made as the ponygirls pranced into place was different for each bell. Smaller bells hung as earrings from the girl’s ears, and a slightly larger bell hung in front between their legs. It was difficult to tell for sure, but it appeared to be hanging from a chain which attached to the hood of their clit, or perhaps even the clit itself.
They stood dutifully next to their master. Another difference in their tack, apart from the color, was the fact that their arms were not restrained behind them. Instead they were wearing hoof gloves and were holding their arms bent at the elbows with the forearms forward, much as a dog walking on its hind legs would do. The hangar lights reflected slightly off the bright silver-plated horseshoes. They also glinted off the silver glitter which was dusted over the slaves’ naked bodies.
Slut marcie ended up standing next to slut gerard as one of the Mistresses from the Masters-in-Training class tacked her up. Mistress Susann, herself, was putting slut gerard into his tack. Slut marcie watched with interest as the crotch strap was put into place. Obviously there was no front dildo. Instead there was a properly-sized opening so that slut gerard’s penis stuck through the strap. His balls, however, did not come through but were instead pressed back tightly against his groin.
She found herself wondering which would be hurt worse if they were forced to pull with the back connector on the pull belt, a woman pulling with her cunt, or a man crushing his balls. She decided that she would never be able to know what it felt like for a man and silently hoped that she never found out how painful it was for a woman if the side clips were not used.
It took almost half an hour to tack out the entire squad. One of the sluts— a green-numbered slut— panicked slightly when her arms were pulled back to be restrained. The blinders were already in place for slut marcie so she could not turn to see who it was, but she thought that the voice sounded like slut darlene. The Master tacking out the panicked slut spoke calmly to her for several moments, and things quieted down.
When all of the sluts were tacked out and properly in their traces, Commander Mueller made a forward motion with his arm and shouted firmly, “Forward! Dressage speed!”
All of the sluts started forward in the strange, prancing, slow-motion dressage step which they had been taught. The elaborately tacked out ponygirls pulling the Commander’s chariot, however, made it look very graceful. Their motions were exactly synchronized, and when their hooves hit, there was only a single clop as the horseshoes struck the ground.
When they reached the edge of the parade ground, the Commander called out, “Walking speed,” and his ponygirls sped up to what would be a normal walking rate.
At the far end of the parade ground, he called out, “Trot speed!” and his ponygirls sped up to what would be a slow jog while still maintaining the high-knee prance.
Finally, just as the column reached the entrance to the rim trail, he grabbed the hand grip on the front of his chariot and yelled, “Double time!”
His ponies broke into a measured run. They were faster than jogging, but not quite as fast as a full run. Evidently, a full run would be considered galloping. Their knees were not quite as high, but still higher than any of the boot camp sluts could maintain.
The carts were in reverse slut number order. That meant that slut david was leading, followed by slut gerard and then slut marcie. The blinders prevented her from seeing for sure exactly where they were. In fact, the blinder restricted her view to the back of the cart in front of her, and, of course, a view of slut gerard’s backside as he trotted along.
“If you ain’t the lead dog,” she thought to herself, “the view never changes. She then smiled as she thought that the view wasn’t all that bad. Slut gerard, despite being much older than the rest of the class, had a very nice butt and very well-developed legs.
She could hear some of the class panting as they trotted along the trail. She had been pulling trustee yvonne for the past week, so she was used to the effort and to the weight of the hoof boots. Even still, sweat was pouring from her body when she completed the first lap and returned to the parade grounds.
Commander Mueller stood in his chariot and addressed the group. “I will leave you at this point. After you complete one more lap, return to the hangar where the sluts will be de-tacked and I will have some announcements for the boot camp squad.”
As soon as he had finished what he had to say, he turned and ordered his chariot ponies to take him back to the hangar. The other drivers, meanwhile, were getting bottles of water or sports drink from the pickup truck which had appeared on the corner of the parade grounds. They released the bits of the ponies and made sure that each was properly hydrated. Several of the slut-slaves took the opportunity to relieve themselves on the ground. Slut marcie had not intended to do so, but the sound— and smell— of the other girls peeing on the grass caused her bladder to express its need for release.
“What the hell,” she said quietly as she spread her legs and released her piss onto the ground. “It’s not like I’m standing in the middle of the town square.”
A few moments later, Mistress Susann, who was driving slut gerard, moved to the front of the column and called out, “Trot speed.” With her now leading, the carts once again sped around the rim trail.
The trot speed with Mistress Susann leading was slightly slower than it had been with Commander Mueller in the lead. That wasn’t because she was being kind to the sluts. It was purely and simply that on this second lap, slut gerard could not maintain the same pace that the well-trained ponygirls who had been pulling the commander had kept.
Slut marcie was now following slut david. As she ran, she noticed two things. One was that she was apparently nowhere near as tired as the others. And two was that slut david had a very nice ass.
The column did not stop at the parade ground when it completed the second lap. Instead, they continued at a trot pace back to the hangar where they pulled back into the same positions they had been in when the sluts were tacked out. Bottles of water and sports drink sat on the tack table. Some of the drivers noted that their ponies were in distress and quickly released the bits so that the sluts could guzzle the needed liquid. Others, with stronger ponies, removed the tack and then let the sluts drink for themselves. Slut marcie was one of those who waited until all tack was removed before quenching her thirst.
“Box in,” yelled trustee brenda. “Single line, slut order.”
The sluts now stood in a long line in front of Commander Mueller. He walked slowly down the line. “Dominants,” he said loudly, “you now have a decision to make. You are eligible to enter the trustee-in-training program, but do you desire that?” He laughed slightly and said, “Just because you do not desire to be a slut or a slave does not mean that you desire to be a Master. There are many who are drawn to the flame who desire neither to control that flame nor to be consumed by it, but rather to just warm themselves from a distance.”
Pointing to the shiny-headed sluts he said, “These sluts obviously crave to be consumed by the flame. What about you? Do you truly desire, deep within your hearts, to control the flame? If so, I want you to take one step forward. If not, please remain in place.”
Eight sluts stepped forward. Slut darlene remained standing in place. She was looking down at the ground and crying softly.
“There is no shame to your decision, slut darlene,” Commander Mueller said. “It takes a strong person to recognize what is in their heart.” Pointing again to the bald-headed sluts he said, “It takes strength to recognize and accept that you are at heart a submissive.” Pointing to those who had stepped forward he said, “It takes strength to recognize and accept the responsibilities of being a Master.” Stopping directly in front of slut darlene he added calmly, “And it takes no less strength to recognize that you are neither.
“We are what we are,” he said more loudly as he turned and walked down the line of those who had claimed their dominance. “When you return to your barracks following an early evening meal,” he explained, “you will find two white bottoms on your bunk. They are a type of soft, artificial leather that breathes slightly to prevent problems with sweat, but they still need to be cleaned. They are to be changed every day. Leave the used one on the table next to the showers when you clean up for the evening meal. Change into the fresh one before you go to the mess hall.”
He chuckled slightly. “I would advise,” he continued, “continuing to sleep naked just to air things out, but that choice is yours. The used bottom will be returned to your bunk sometime during the next day.”
He held up an example of the white bikini-like bottom. “If you look closely at the edge right next to the Velcro fasteners on the sides, you will see a small number. That is how the laundry slaves know where to return this.”
He smiled and continued, “I would advise checking the number each night before you put it on to make sure it is yours.” Holding up the small piece of leather a little higher, he said, “There isn’t a whole lot to this, but they do come in several different sizes, and the ones intended for males are, for obvious reasons, built slightly differently than those intended for females.”
The sluts laughed softly at his humor. One of the sluts began and all seven quickly joined as they said, “Sir, thank you, Sir, Commander Mueller.”
He smiled back at them and then stepped back slightly to address the whole squad. “Tonight, you have a special treat. Master Edward will explain.”
He stepped aside and Master Edward stepped forward.
“Tonight,” he began in his very precise British way of speaking, “is movie night. Following your evening meal, you will return here to the hangar.”
Pointing down to the far wall he said, “There is a large screen which rolls down on that wall. Because of the terrible acoustics here in the hangar, you will each be given a small set of wireless headphones so that you can fully appreciate the dialogue and so forth.”
He paused, waiting for the sluts’ eyes and attention to return to him before continuing. “This movie is especially chosen for this point in your boot camp. This particular film is a bit old, but it is chosen because of certain unique qualities to the story. As you watch this film, you are to ask yourself with which of the characters do you identify. When the film is over, you will fill out a short questionnaire and turn it in before your leave. Commander Mueller and the supervisory Masters and Mistresses will review your answers as part of their evaluations.”
He stood for several moments calmly looking out at the line of sluts before asking, “Do you understand that?”
“Sir, yes, Sir, Master Edward,” the sluts replied.
“Then,” he said, “you are dismissed to your barracks to prepare for your evening meal.”
The sluts turned and jogged out of the hangar, remaining in their column. Slut marcie was the third to reach the barracks and sped through the showers and then over to her bunk to check if the trustee-in-training bottoms were waiting for her.
Sitting on her bed, neatly folded into a small square, were two pieces of white leather. Picking them up, slut marcie noted that there was a Velcro flap on each side at the hip, similar to the way a pair of stripper pants would be made. She held the top of the back against her rear and pulled the flap through her crotch. It took a couple of tries to get the technique, but if she held the rough end from the back in place and pulled the fuzzy end from the front over to her hip, she was able to press the Velcro in place. Repeating that on the opposite side was much easier with the bottom held in place on one side. After securing the second side, she went back to the first side and reset the tab in a better position.
By the time she was finished, slut jj was standing next to her. “Ma’am,” slut jj began, “are you ready to go to the mess hall, Ma’am, trustee marcie?”
“I’m not a trustee yet,” slut marcie replied. “I guess you will have to leave off the title and name or call me ‘slut marcie.’”
“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am, slut marcie,” slut jj said with a smile. Then she looked down slightly and added, “But I would rather call you Mistress.”
“Someday, jj,” slut marcie responded. “Someday. But for now we had best run for the mess hall before they take our glasses off the table.”
BDSM Boot Camp · Bound 11 · Part 2 (2/2)
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