High Strappado Wearing Pony Hoof Boots: Both a fun punishment and a way to improve a pony's balanace in his hoof boots. The risk of dislocating his arms serves as a high motivation for maintaining balance :). If the video isn't displaying properly, you can try the direct link. The video is also available in 720p.
Following on to my previous experience in hoof boot strappado bondage, T suggested another, more severe session, with my hoof gloves clad arms pulled high above my head, leaving me to totter around in the impossibly high heels of my hoof boots.
Stupidly, I agreed, since the idea sounded hot.
This is exactly the way that I get myself into trouble...T sells a scene to me (to her credit she doens't really have to do much more than describe it in general terms while my imagination runs wild) by telling me how I'll be her unwilling captive ponyboy who has to be both trained and punished to learn how to behave and his place at her service. Without knowing all the details, this is usually enough of a hook to get me to agree.
If you know me, you know that I generally don't give a crap about subission, but the idea of being captured and forced into submission really pushes my buttons (all of the good ones anyway).
So, this time, the scene was billed as another strappado bondage scene with me clad in hoof boots, hoof mitts, bit gag (with tongue port of course - to prevent my from geting my tongue over the bit and reissting its action), and a posture collar to round things out. I wanted to go full harness, but T, being the voice of reason in my fantasies nixed the idea for time being since she felt that would limit the time, and thus her enjoyment, that I could be reliabaly kept in the strappado bondage.
With the details roughly ironed out, I donned my black latex catsuit (one of my favorite items, yet something I never thought I would be interested in until I bought one for the heck of it at a deep discount during one of Stormy Leather's clearance sales) and proceeded to lace up my Reactor hoof boots before buckling on my wide black leather posture collar, which is a surprisingly restrictive piece of equipment.
Clad in black latex, hoof boots, and a posture collar, T helps me squeeze my fists into the tight rubber of the hoof gloves (really they should be called hoof mitts since they force my hands into fists when propely in place around my hands and lower arms.
With me already effectively restrained (I can't use my fingers or remove the latex hooves from my hands and I'm teetering about in the hoof boots trying to find my balance), she lovingly (I'm not being facetious) buckles the bit gag with a newly attached tongue port to keep my tongue help firmly in place below the bit (and as a side effect cause copious drooling).
T gagging me with a rubber pony bit gag with attached rubber tongue port: In preparation for the hoof boot strappado, T bitted me with a standard rubber bit gag with an attached rubber tongue (juba) port cut off slightly at the end (she was being kind so as not to overstimulate my gag reflex for the already taxing scene she had in mind. If the video isn't displaying properly, you can try the direct link. The video is also available in 720p.
Kindly, T uses a bit port that she had previously cut a small piece off of at the end so that it would not continuously simulate the gag reflex. She left just enough so that when the reins are pulled, the back of the port gets pulled into my throat, causing me to cough and gag, but just sitting there, it is only midly uncomfortable. It prevents me from making anything close to coherent speech, but with the last inch cut off the rubber, it wou't cause unnecessary gagging. When the reins are pulled, well, that's another story.
With ooves on my hands and feet, a posture collar around my neck, and the bit in my mouth, T promounces me ready. With that, she ties my hoof glove clad arms behind my back at the wrists and cinches them tightly together. She uses a long rope and throws the excess over a sturdy tree brach behind me.
Walking behind me, she grabs the rope from the other side of the tree brnch and pulls it taught. She keeps pulling it until my arms pull away from my body, forcing me to bed forward at the hips. Still tighter she pulls the rope, yanking my wrists high abov my head. My head and torso drops down to compensate for this stress. Higher yet she pulls my wrists until I worry that she'll string me up and dislocate my shoulders.
Only when my wrists are impossibly high in the air behind my back does she finally stop and tie off the rope to some other branch (I presume, since I cannot turn around to see).
With my hoof mitt clad hands pulled high up in the air behind me, she finally decides to have a little bit of fun whacking my ass with a riding crop. SHe gets in a few good strokes, only relenting when she notices I might actually lose my balance in this awkward position as I shuffle around as best I can in my hoof boots to maintain balance as I take my beating.
Satisfied that I'm on the edge of losing my balance with panic breathing down my neck, T takes a few steps back to admire her handiwork as I take hesitating steps in my hooves to find the precarious balance to minimize the stress in my shoulders and arms without compromising my footing in as my hoof boots work their way into the soft groud.
I'm grateful I didn't go full harness, and even more grateful that I'm not hobbled. I know T would let me down should I fall into serious distress, but if I suddenly lost my balance and fell, she wouldn'd have time to cut me down before I could fall and dislocate my shoulders. This thought again gets me hot and struggle in my bonds as I shuffle in my hoof boots to keep balance.