<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Bridle on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/bridle/</link><description>Recent content in Bridle on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/bridle/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Part-Time Equine</title><link>/stories/2023/04/02/part-time-equine/</link><pubDate>Sun, 02 Apr 2023 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2023/04/02/part-time-equine/</guid><description>&lt;h4 id="part-3"&gt;Part 3&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I groaned loudly into my pillow as the warm covers were thrown off me and the cool morning air attacked my bare skin. I curled up into a ball, trying to keep warm and trying to stay in the realm of sleep. I was so exhausted from yesterday&amp;rsquo;s events that I dozed off in my underwear, I struggled to change completely into the pyjamas that were laid out for me.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Part-Time Equine</title><link>/stories/2022/11/16/part-time-equine/</link><pubDate>Wed, 16 Nov 2022 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2022/11/16/part-time-equine/</guid><description>&lt;h4 id="part-2"&gt;Part 2&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;With the sun setting on the horizon, my motorbike roared down the open road, passing cities and large towns. Within the last few months, these places would be the perfect place for me to stop and to make a life for myself. However, with an empty purse and no one willing to let me stay with them, I had to take my last option possible.I watched the final town disappear from my wing mirror, with only the light pollution illuminating the skies as a memory of the location I just passed.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Recruit</title><link>/stories/2022/09/28/recruit/</link><pubDate>Wed, 28 Sep 2022 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2022/09/28/recruit/</guid><description>&lt;h3 id="recruit"&gt;Recruit&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He led me into a stall, tugging the reins far more than was necessary. The clip-clop of my hooves against the ground outside changed to a light thunking as we crossed onto the wooden floor of the barn. I gripped the handles inside the fore hooves, straining at the straps that kept my arms up and away from him. Between my legs, the weights attached to the agitators swung and snapped at the chains where my stride moved them with every hint of motion on my part. I thought back to the first time I had been equipped, a year ago today. I knew what today was, and I could not wait to be finally free.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>A World of Difference</title><link>/stories/2022/06/19/a-world-of-difference/</link><pubDate>Sun, 19 Jun 2022 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2022/06/19/a-world-of-difference/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I just can’t believe how innocently this all started. My name is Honey Fleming. I’m 5’ 7” tall with short blonde hair and when this all started, I was 22. I’ve been told I’m very attractive, but I found that I prefer my own sex. Possibly this is due to the fact that I was nearly raped when in my teens and since then I find myself avoiding male company.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Ultimate Challenge</title><link>/stories/2019/11/14/the-ultimate-challenge/</link><pubDate>Thu, 14 Nov 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/11/14/the-ultimate-challenge/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continues from &lt;a href="ultimatechallenge.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;part one&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h4 id="part-two"&gt;Part Two&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Monday found us back in the training routine with Cathy and Mary. Listening to Mary and Cathy, it became obvious that their main aim was to build up our strength and stamina. It was exhausting but enjoyable, even if all we wanted to do at the end of the day, was eat then sleep. However, as the days progressed, the aches and pains disappeared and the work became easier, then one day, as we were being put back in our stalls, Lady Elizabeth appeared and asked how we were doing. It was Mary who replied.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Ultimate Challenge</title><link>/stories/2019/07/27/the-ultimate-challenge/</link><pubDate>Sat, 27 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/07/27/the-ultimate-challenge/</guid><description>&lt;h4 id="part-one"&gt;Part One&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Miss Kennedy,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would like to offer you a position for which I believe you are eminently suited. However, the position would require you to live here on my estate for a period of approximately one year.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;As I value privacy, you would be required to sign a Non Disclosure Agreement before terms and conditions are discussed. However, if you feel that you are unable or unwilling to continue when you have heard what I require, you may choose to leave with no hard feeling on my part.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Pony Girl 2</title><link>/stories/2019/06/08/pony-girl-2/</link><pubDate>Sat, 08 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/08/pony-girl-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continues from &lt;a href="ponygirl.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h4 id="part-2"&gt;Part 2&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It has been four years since I became Honey. I’m no longer fed drugged food, or so Katia tells me. She’s always chatting to me, but the conversation is one sided. Lorraine decided that although everyone could talk to me in English, I was not allowed to talk, so I have worn the restrictive bit twenty four seven. Katia can even clean my teeth without removing it. All the grooms started to speak to me in English instead of their native language, which I had discovered was Croatian. However, whenever I’m being trained, or taken out all commands are given in the Croatian tongue. I don’t understand a word, but by now, I can associate a given sound with a given action, such as ‘Walk, trot’ and so on. In addition, Katia continued to work her hypnotic magic on me, as I found out only a few weeks after my meeting with Lorraine. My bridle and bit were removed one afternoon and Katia asked me a question. However, I found that I was unable to utter a sound. Katia just smiled and said,&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Pony Girl</title><link>/stories/2019/05/21/pony-girl/</link><pubDate>Tue, 21 May 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/05/21/pony-girl/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;My name is Linda Kennedy. I’m 22, blonde and with an attractive figure, even if I say so myself. I have no family, my parents having died the previous year in an accident. To help overcome my grief, I dived into my studies at university and had recently graduated with a degree in hospitality management. Oh yes, I discovered at an early age that I prefer my own sex to men. In fact, if it hadn’t been for someone walking their dog several years ago, I would have been raped. That experience has made me extremely nervous in any male company.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Pony Girls Play Some More</title><link>/stories/2019/05/21/the-pony-girls-play-some-more/</link><pubDate>Tue, 21 May 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/05/21/the-pony-girls-play-some-more/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="ponygirls2.html"&gt;part two&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 3: The Pony Girls Play Some More&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“You should try it on” I physically jumped at the unexpected voice. I turned round to see Elizabeth standing in the half-open doorway to my office. A doorway I should have latched securely rather than just closing it.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was holding the heavyweight leather harness that she had seen in use at least twice. On both occasions it had been wrapped and buckled tightly about my muscular lover. Or rather he had been tightly wrapped and buckled into it. It was never intended to be a simple toy. Once inside it and all those gleaming buckles and dark leather straps were fastened you were it’s prisoner until such time as you were released. I was very firmly the dominant in our relationship, but something about it spoke to a deep, submissive side of me that I hated to admit existed. Yes, damn my soul, as it hung there wafting the smell of fresh leather to my nose I was getting turned on. As I held it up the straps were curving themselves towards me as if both inviting me while reaching out to entrap me.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Pony Girls</title><link>/stories/2018/10/31/the-pony-girls/</link><pubDate>Wed, 31 Oct 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/10/31/the-pony-girls/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Once the collar is fastened around their neck there is no going back. Ask any dominant or submissive and they will tell you this is true. There is just something about having a collar fastened snug about your neck that means there is no going back. And young George has just had a nice thick collar fastened about his throat and I can already sense the effect it is having on him. I can hear his breathing getting deeper and I can feel the heat of arousal radiating from his naked body.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Dream Or Nightmare</title><link>/stories/2018/04/12/dream-or-nightmare/</link><pubDate>Thu, 12 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/12/dream-or-nightmare/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;She walked into the office where I work, into my life and into my heart. Well, into my heart and all sort of places that lurked lower down and that are filled with all my baser desires.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She swayed through the door and my throat went dry. Her hair was blonde and cropped close, her eyes blue and shining as they swept the room. She was wearing a long mack and even from the distance I could see magnificent breasts making the buttons struggle for survival.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Career Opportunities</title><link>/stories/2018/03/05/career-opportunities/</link><pubDate>Mon, 05 Mar 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/03/05/career-opportunities/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Do not use without the author’s permission.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The head of the auction house entered the back room and let his gaze linger over the row of ponygirls lined up along the back wall. There were nearly a dozen of them, harnessed and bridled, their hands cuffed behind their backs, their eyes blindfolded, and their ears covered with headphones. They were all completely naked, and the tops of their bridles were hooked to rings set in the brick wall behind them. He was pleased. It looked like it was going to be a very profitable day.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Christmas Competition</title><link>/stories/2017/12/24/the-christmas-competition/</link><pubDate>Sun, 24 Dec 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/12/24/the-christmas-competition/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Do not use without the author’s permission.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Bob stared at the house across the street with a crazed look in his eye. The hundreds of lights and Christmas figures that covered the house and filled the lawn lit up the whole neighborhood.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“This time Fred isn’t going to win the holiday display competition! Not when he sees what I’ve got to offer! Isn’t that right, Jenna?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He turned to his wife, who was standing by the wall. She could only give a muffled reply because of the thick rubber horse bit in her mouth. Underneath her harness and bridle, she wore a brown fur-covered catsuit, complete with hooves for her hands and feet, and a pair of reindeer antlers on her head. Her wrists were cuffed to the waist belt of her harness, and her ankles were hobbled by a leather restraint. Her wide, frightened eyes tried to convey to her husband how insane she thought the whole idea was.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ironwood</title><link>/stories/2017/12/03/ironwood/</link><pubDate>Sun, 03 Dec 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/12/03/ironwood/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 1: Rachel in the Stables&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Rachel ran into the locker room and threw her clothes into her locker, struggling to get her corset off fast. The place was empty already, which meant she was late for Physical Education class and she didn&amp;rsquo;t want to piss off Professor Blackhead again.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Pulling on her sports bra, she cursed herself for the umpteenth time for letting Jason talk her into buying the answers for that year&amp;rsquo;s standardized tests. Eighteen years old and sentenced to twenty years as a pleasure slave. Even if her dad&amp;rsquo;s lawyer won the appeal, the logo for the Ironwood Senior Academy for Indentured Girls was already tattooed on her butt. Even now, the magical mark copied itself in perfect detail over the plain gray cotton shorts she pulled on over it, announcing to the world her status as a student slave.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Tour Guide</title><link>/stories/2017/09/21/tour-guide/</link><pubDate>Thu, 21 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/09/21/tour-guide/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Do not use without the author’s permission.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After finishing her morning cup of coffee, Jackie dressed herself in a nude seamless-cup see-thru bra and nude panty girdle with molded derriere, underwear that had been fashionable when she had come to Hollywood as a naive young actress in the mid-70s. As she sat in front of her vanity, she dabbed on some makeup and moisturizer, then ran an electric shaver across the bare skin of her head, careful to preserve the horse’s mane that she had worn since she had first been abducted and forced to become a ponygirl. She checked herself out in the mirror before leaving her bedroom and heading for work.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Community Service</title><link>/stories/2017/08/03/community-service/</link><pubDate>Thu, 03 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/08/03/community-service/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Amber pulled on a sports top and Capri-length spandex leggings, then slipped her feet into jogging shoes before tying her orangish-red hair into a ponytail. A bitter smile crossed her face. How ironic, she thought—a ponytail. Then, like the five other young women in the stable, she left her stall for the parking garage.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In the next room were half-a-dozen sulkies. She positioned herself in front of hers—Number 4-and waited for the male workers to harness and bridle her.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Wrong Place, Wrong Time</title><link>/stories/2017/08/03/wrong-place-wrong-time/</link><pubDate>Thu, 03 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/08/03/wrong-place-wrong-time/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Here she is,&amp;rdquo; said the exasperated director, peering out the stable door. He glanced at his watch as a tall, dark-haired woman stepped out of her car. &amp;ldquo;She&amp;rsquo;s almost two hours late, the stupid bitch. And I wanted her to wear a dress or skirt, NOT fucking JEANS!&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The film crew jumped up and readied the lights and video cameras. They were going to have to work fast if they were going to get enough footage for a feature-length film.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Why?</title><link>/stories/2017/07/04/why/</link><pubDate>Tue, 04 Jul 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/07/04/why/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Why did you kidnap me and turn me into your sex fantasy? What was it that made you target me? Was it my long blonde hair and blue eyes? My wholesome good looks? My perky breasts? My lean dancer&amp;rsquo;s legs? Why me and not one of the thousands of other similar girls out on their own trying to make it in Hollywood? Was I somehow special, or was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Pony Girl Lara</title><link>/stories/2016/07/14/pony-girl-lara/</link><pubDate>Thu, 14 Jul 2016 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2016/07/14/pony-girl-lara/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I’m sure you&amp;rsquo;ve already seen pictures of pony girl in the internet and was wondering about this passion and lifestyle. I think, you agree that pony girls looking beautiful especially if they wear a matching outfit. Some of the outfits are incredible, with matching leather harnesses and amazing pony boots and even gloves shaped like hooves that can be laced or locked on. This is something I would love to try one day, but first I needed to find out how to become a pony girl.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Final Trek</title><link>/stories/2016/05/01/the-final-trek/</link><pubDate>Sun, 01 May 2016 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2016/05/01/the-final-trek/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="finaltrek4.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Final Trek&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 5: Houston, we&amp;rsquo;ve had a problem&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I woke up sometime around zero eight thirty hours. It was a bit late for me, but I was finally growing accustomed to sleeping when tired and getting up whenever I felt like it. It took me nearly an hour with the dermal regenerator to remove the welts and bruises from my tits and ass. I only wished it worked on the deeper tissues. Judging by the ache in my ass cheeks, I have a feeling I will be spending most of the day on my feet.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Pony Club</title><link>/stories/2015/11/05/pony-club/</link><pubDate>Thu, 05 Nov 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/11/05/pony-club/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;It was a new harness. All broad straps of brown leather with heavy steel buckles. I almost purred as I allowed her to strap it about me. First the collar snug about my throat, then the mass of soft straps that unrolled down about my naked body from that collar. I felt myself shiver as they almost caressed me, curling about my body as their designer had no doubt intended.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Village Fete</title><link>/stories/2015/06/25/the-village-fete/</link><pubDate>Thu, 25 Jun 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/06/25/the-village-fete/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;There had already been weeks of planning gone into the village fete, with two weeks left to go, Vicki returned home from the planning meeting. Always looking for a way to play in public, which is one of her biggest turn-ons. The fete was to be held on the village green. As with some small villages in the UK the old village stocks and whipping post was still there. Vicki was involved in the restoration project of them a few years ago, a sort of focal point for the village, a glimpse of how things use to be. They were perfectly functional, in fact although they looked like they had been there over two hundred years, they were re-built using modern materials and the latest technology which meant they were totally secure and much stronger than they were before the restoration.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ponygirl's for Christmas</title><link>/stories/2014/01/03/ponygirls-for-christmas/</link><pubDate>Fri, 03 Jan 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/01/03/ponygirls-for-christmas/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;What about this one Lizzy?&amp;rdquo; I held up the black latex corset. A look of utter embarrassment spread across my friends face. Her cheeks had turned crimson red, and she quickly averted her eyes.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;No I don&amp;rsquo;t think so Kelly&amp;rdquo; she managed to whisper. She tried to hide her discomfort by turning back to the rack of latex and rubber outfits that hung in front of her.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I looked down at the shiny piece of material in my hands. It felt deliciously smooth to the touch. I found myself staring at Liz, as my fingers continued to explore. We had been best friends since high school. Dated the same dumb jocks and went to the same lame parties. But if there ever was anyone that could make me a hot quivering mess. It was her.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Halloween Pony</title><link>/stories/2013/10/30/halloween-pony/</link><pubDate>Wed, 30 Oct 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/10/30/halloween-pony/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;A Halloween Special 2013 Tale&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“One game of backgammon, if you win I will give you $10,000. If I win you will come to the Halloween party dressed as a pony, but in a costume that I will provide.” Sounds simple, sounds none threatening. For David $10,000 was nothing. For her it was huge, with the costs of school she was really struggling. Was this just his way of helping her out? And so what if she lost. She had been worried sick about how she was going to put together a costume that would match the people she expected to be at David’s party.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Treatment</title><link>/stories/2013/09/15/the-treatment/</link><pubDate>Sun, 15 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/09/15/the-treatment/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Liz and Sam sat on opposite sides of the waiting room couch.
They had frequently been together like this, but they rarely
spoke to each other. Now it was nearly seven. Dr Perkins had
been extremely busy that day and had to change their appointments
to this evening. Liz wasn&amp;rsquo;t happy about it. She was still trying to quit smoking
and although Dr Perkins had made a lot of progress, she still
had this urge to light up. To keep that from happening, she began
to chew her nails.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Tack Trap</title><link>/stories/2012/04/25/the-tack-trap/</link><pubDate>Wed, 25 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/04/25/the-tack-trap/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;We were all watching her as she went into the tack room. Waiting to see if she took the bait. Suzy Sue, our lovely leggy instructress. Our equestrienne goddess. We had deliberately left the tack room untidy, and amongst the disorder we had left the bait for our trap.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Instead of the shouts and bellowing cries for recrimination we had half expected there was only silence. And silence was good for our plan. Very good indeed.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Angel's Country Weekend</title><link>/stories/2003/12/06/angels-country-weekend/</link><pubDate>Sat, 06 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/06/angels-country-weekend/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Now if you&amp;rsquo;re read any of these stories so far, you&amp;rsquo;ll already know
that both Angel and David enjoy not only doing the tying but being the
tied.  Doesn&amp;rsquo;t matter to them which end they take, as long as there
is some sort of restraint and/or bondage involved.  Angel and David
had been seeing each other for quite awhile, and decided they needed a
weekend away from their jobs to de-stress and relax and just plain enjoy
each other.  So they both called in sick on Friday (shame on them…such
bad employees…*wink*) and took the weekend to &amp;lsquo;recover&amp;rsquo; from their alleged
illnesses.  They packed their bags and drove out to a little country
bed and breakfast, and as Angel checked the clock in the van it was just
passing 4 hours from the time they started out.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Captive of an Evil Queen</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/captive-of-an-evil-queen/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/captive-of-an-evil-queen/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Simple things can trigger happy memories, for me it’s the sound of a key in a lock, until now.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was Friday night and I had the house to myself, my housemates had either gone home for the weekend or to a late night concert. I had the place to myself, so I could indulge myself with a little self-bondage and mild torment. I quickly got my toy box from the back of my wardrobe and started to select what I was going to use.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Investigative Reporter 10: Training the Imperfect Mount</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-investigative-reporter-10-training-the-imperfect-mount/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-investigative-reporter-10-training-the-imperfect-mount/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="investigativereporter9.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Investigative Reporter 9: Finding A Winning Mount&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 10: Training the Imperfect Mount&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;When Beth had finished eating she found herself hitched once again to the cart, but this time by the hand of the well dressed author that she had yet to be introduced to as the editor looked on passively. Her editor had handed the woman the ring of keys that opened all of the barn&amp;rsquo;s doors as Beth looked on, placing them in her outstretched hand in acquiescence to her silent demand for them. To Beth the action seemed ceremonial, like reluctantly handing a teenager the keys to the family car and telling her to be careful and come right back home after the library. The keys in that case implied trust and freedom, and even a certain form of empowerment, but the exact opposite for Beth.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 3</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-3/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-3/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="secretsofshackletongrange2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 3: Horse Play&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After what seemed like several hours, during which Cathy had no option but to remain in immovable stasis, the sound of several sets of feet approaching slowly but surely built in volume, until they sounded as if they were just outside the door. The turning of the key in the lock, then the creaking of the ancient wood, was swiftly followed by the unmistakable tones of Dolores’ voice permeating through the layers of latex.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 4</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-4/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-4/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="secretsofshackletongrange3.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 4: The Crypt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;When she came to, Cathy found herself lying in the recovery position on the grass. For a second or two she forgot where she was and tried to sit up. But immediately she discovered that her arms were still encased in the unforgiving leather sleeve, although, on the plus side, she was no longer lashed to the trotting cart, and the bit had been loosened to allow it to slip from her mouth. The harness was still fastened tightly around her torso however, and the bridle straps continued to bite deeply into her face and neck.  As the comprehension of where she was finally returned and her eyes were once more able to focus, she realised that there was a general hubbub of noise somewhere away to her right. Turning her head, she noticed most of the stable girls, plus Dolores and her three right- hand- women, all milling around a trotting cart that seemed to have overturned at a distance of around fifty yards from where she lay. It was obvious straightaway that one of the participants in the time trial had crashed, spilling her rider in the process. This was evidenced by the fact that the main group were now clustered around one of the woman, who was gingerly getting to her feet; her hair dishevelled and her skin-tight suit covered in dust and dirt. The ponies, all still harnessed to their carts, stood around gazing on helplessly.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>