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Act III

***

Trisha was napping, trying to get a little bit of rest after Mr. Crawford had left them. It was a little after seven in the evening and she had woke up again, not able to sleep well. She sat up, swinging her legs off the bed and standing, stretching out her body as she went to her mini-kitchenette to fix some warm milk to help her sleep. She preferred this over using sleeping pills, which she tried to avoid if at all possible. Musing about the last few days, she had enjoyed her time with Ed, since he had treated the two of them like a gentleman should.

This was a far cry from some of her regular clients, a few of them bordering on being straight-up sadists. One of her clients took great joy in seeing just how tightly she could be bound with heavy leather straps, sometimes leaving marks that took a day or two to fade. Another client preferred her bound to a struggle board with only the center two rows of studs up against her back while he roughly fucked her over and over. He was well aware of how bad it hurt her when he forcefully thrust into her with his cock, grinding the studs into her back with each stroke. While she was waiting for her milk to warm up in the microwave, there came a polite knock at her door.

She opened the door to see Linda standing there, looking a bit upset. This didn't seem right so she thought she better find out what was troubling her friend and lover.

“Is there a problem?" she asked, offering for her friend to come in. The taller mare accepted, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it. She looked at the floor for just a few seconds to get her thoughts together before looking up at Trisha, waiting just a moment before she spoke.

“One of my performers had an accident this afternoon, sweetheart. Joanie fell over a client's legs that were out in the aisles in the Mauna Loa Bar." Joanie was a leopardess that had just earned her black leather a few weeks ago.

“Oh No! Is she hurt bad?" Trisha had done almost the same thing about four weeks ago. She was lucky in that she didn't have any injuries that needed hospitalization.

“Yeah, she has a bad concussion, sweetie." Linda looked at the buffed female as she said, “I need a second dancer to take Joanie's place for tonight's show at nine p.m. Is this too short of a notice?"

“No, I'll do it for you. What stage?"

“The Lava Room." was Linda's reply. “I'll have your gear sent over for you. I suggest stretching out real good because this is a suspension frame show." Trisha nodded, giving her friend a hug and a kiss before she left her room. The buffed female then began to systematically stretch out, readying herself for what would be a grueling, tough, one hour performance.

***

Trisha used the staff entrance to gain access to the backstage area of the Lava Room, one of the bigger performance stages at Blue Hawaii. A female staff person had escorted her there, since the stage couldn't be accessed from the dormitory wing directly. The staffer, whose name was Karen, clipped Trisha's leash to the framework and then began to help Trisha to put on her personal full suspension harness. They were joined shortly by Marilyn, a very sturdily built gray vixen that had come to Blue Hawaii about the same time as the two mares. The staffer with her, Robin, began to do the same for the female fox.

The harness, made of heavy ballistic nylon webbing, was designed to safely support the performer while they were strung up spread-eagled inside the framework. The harness was constructed in such a manner as to leave the performer's front and back sides open to provide maximum area for striking. The arms and legs were somewhat covered by the harness so they didn't present much of a target. This would be rough for the performers because almost all the strikes would be torso strikes.

Linda made her way backstage, checking on things to ensure a safe-as-possible performance this evening. Their medic, Dave Johnson, was setting his case on the bench provided, opening it up to be ready for the performance to end. That's when the blond-haired young man would treat them for their slight injuries from their performance.

“How are you feeling, Trish?" Linda asked, giving her a hug and a kiss. “I need to give each of you twenty lashes and two stripes tonight; one front, one back. That's what the show calls for."

“I'm feeling fine, sweetheart. Find out where Marilyn wants hers and do a matching pair deal." Linda went over to the vixen, giving her a kiss too.

“Are you OK, Linda? You seem a little distracted." Marilyn queried as she slipped her arms into the upper half of the harness with just a little help from her staffer.

“Yeah, I'm sorry but I'm still thinking about Joanie. She really wanted to do this show tonight. These are always good money shows as far as tips go."

“Yeah, that's rough. I hope she's feeling better soon." Marilyn thought for a few moments before she spoke again. “How about a horizontal stripe in the small of the back and the other one vertical, below the breasts? Those don't seem to hurt me too bad."

“Does that sound OK to you, Trish?" Linda asked, still somewhat distracted.

“That's fine with me," she replied as Karen began to winch her up into the air, her hooves ending up almost a foot off the floor. She thought for a moment or two before pointing out, “You need to get a stim tab from Dave, sweetie. You need to get your concentration together." Karen then locked the lower cables and tightened the upper cables, getting the mare's harness firmly fixtured into place. The actual load was being borne by the harness, the performers just essentially strapped tightly inside of it.

Linda retrieved a stim tab from Dave and chewed it, and even though it tasted nastier than hell, the drugs were helping her to sharpen her concentration. She grabbed a roll of blue painter's tape and laid her whip out on the floor as a gauge to allow her to mark her spots on the floor. This way she could walk around the stage and still come back to the proper striking point for either performer. While she was doing this, the sound technician's assistant was putting microphone/headset units on the performers, making sure they were secure. He clipped the wireless transmitters to their harnesses by their wrists to keep them out of whip range, threading the wires through their harnesses to the headsets. Once that was done, he then came over to Linda, helping her to put hers on.

“Testing, One, Two, Three ... How's that, Bentley?" Linda asked the sound man, Trisha and Marilyn waiting their turn to test their mics afterward.

“You all have good levels, ladies." he replied from his vantage point in the back of the house.

“Listen, Bentley, If I say 'Shut up you bitches' and point at either one of them with my whip, that's my signal I want our mics off to the house so we can talk amongst ourselves. I'll tell you when to turn them back on afterward."

“Yes, Ma'am. 'Shut up you bitches' and point your whip. Got it." The house manager came on stage and got Linda's attention.

“Show time is in ten minutes, Ma'am. You'll need to be quiet because the tables are up close to the stage tonight and the audience is coming in as soon as I close the curtains."

“Thanks, Roger. We'll be quiet." While Roger closed the curtains, she walked over to the two performers, carefully checking their gear over one last time, making sure the buckles and Velcro fasteners were tight as possible but not too tight. She gave them both a kiss on the neck as she waited, getting her whip rolled up just so. She stood with her back to the curtain, clearing her mind for her performance. Once the house announcer had said “Without further delay, our show for this evening," the curtains opened. She smiled, winked at her 'dancers' and turned around, striding confidently to the front of the stage. Bentley told her that their mics were hot through their headsets, advising Trisha that hers was set down, at one-half volume for her opening diatribe.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank all of you in advance for attending tonight's show," Linda began, taking her place center stage. The light from the spotlights were reflecting off of her chrome studs and hardware, making her look imposing. “My name is Linda Moore and I will be your whip mistress of ceremonies this evening." Linda took a short, polite bow before she continued.

“I present to you this evening, a pair of females that are desperately in need some reinforcement lessons. The vixen on your left, here is Marilyn, who feels she doesn't need to give a man oral sex! Can you imagine that? A brothel with no oral sex?" The crowd chuckled at this statement.

“The mare up here on your right is Trisha, who thinks her magnificently powerful, muscular body is beyond giving sex to a man by letting him fuck her in the ass. She is also under the impression my whip can't hurt her, too." This was Trisha's cue.

“You whip like a little girl," she spat out at Linda, giving her a dirty look. Her microphone had been turned down deliberately so Linda would have to ask her to repeat herself. Bentley turned Trisha's mic back up for her to speak again.

“What did you say to me, Trisha?" Linda asked, waking over towards the bound mare.

“You heard me, Miss Bitch! You whip just like a little girl!"

“Shut up you idiot! You'll get her pissed off and she'll whip us both real bad!" Marilyn shouted, as if to stop Trisha from egging their antagonist on.

“Oh Fuck That, Marilyn! She can't hurt shit! You let her try and ..." Trisha broke into a scream when Linda landed the first blow against her left shoulder, making it look like the strike was a real one.

“Watch your mouths, ladies!" Linda spat back, landing another blow as high on Trisha's chest as she could. The shorter mare screamed out an ear-piercing shriek, shaking her framework some when she convulsed in pain, or so it looked.

“You quit whipping her, damn you!" Marilyn shouted, getting Linda's attention. The taller mare laid several whip blows to her that looked very real. The vixen shrieked and then started cursing under her breath. “Dammit, dammit, dammit ..." Trisha shouted out at the taller mare again.

“Why don't you let me down from here, bitch! Just you and me, ten minutes, no stinkin' whips! I'll mop the floor with your ..." She began shrieking again while Linda gave her several more strikes, making it look like she was really laying the whip to Trisha.

“Sorry, I'll leave you right there for a bit until we see eye to eye about your servicing your clients." The whip master walked over to the side of Trisha and held her whip out to the side, which was a standard signal to close the microphones to the house.

“Mics off," Bentley told them, letting them know they could talk freely.

“You girls OK?" Linda asked as she walked in front of them and ran the butt of her whip across their abdomens, as if teasing them with it.

“I'm fine." Marilyn replied. “Nice hits, too. They hardly sting."

“I'm OK," Trisha replied, giving her an evil stare as she walked by, which was part of the show. “Keep it going, this is going to be a good show, sweetie."

“Mics on, please," Linda asked, walking back to the front of the stage. “Marilyn, are you going to give head when asked with no hesitation?"

“To hell with you!" she responded, spitting on the stage. “Why don't you eat my stinky crotch, bitch!" The tall mare responded to that outburst with two fast strikes to her upper chest, above her breasts. The vixen howled in pain, sounding more like a wounded animal than a chimera.

“I can't go to hell _ or _ heaven, my dear," Linda pointed out, whipping her one more time, slightly below the navel. “I'm just an artifact, made by man to serve man. Just as you are, dear. You need to learn to use your mouth to serve man, as you were designed."

“Well, La De Fucking Da, you educated, smart mouth cunt!" Trisha spat out in a dark tone. “Come here and show me what you got, bitch! You can't change my mind with that wh ... AAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Trish shrieked when Linda whipped her three times in rapid succession across the lower abdomen, hitting her just hard enough to leave a slight welt that would fade in a few hours.

“Ladies, ladies, ... I have all evening to suggest to you with this whip that I am right and you both are so very wrong about this. Ready to concede yet?" Linda walked by them, winking at them as she ran her whip across their breasts.

“Fuck You!" Trisha shot back, bearing her teeth in an atavistic way. “You can't make me change!" Linda responded by whipping her several more times, waiting for her to quit screaming before saying her part.

“Sweetheart, I have all night to make you change your mind."

***

“Thank you for staying for the show. Good Night, All," Linda told the audience, bowing deeply to them as the curtain closed in front of her. She turned and went to Trisha, lowering her back down to the floor while Robin did the same for the vixen. Dave was on the spot, spraying the stripes on Trisha with some trauma drugs, using a damp sponge afterward to work the chemicals into the skin. He then went to see about Marilyn, giving her the same treatment, checking her for excess bleeding. While all of this was going on, a stage hand used a broom to sweep up the tips on the stage into a pile, scooping it into a counter bucket to total up their tips for them.

“That seemed like more than an hour," Trish commented, unhooking her arms from the cables before doing the same for her legs.

“Nope, fifty-seven minutes, according to the clock in the back of the house." Linda replied. “I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" she asked, checking the shorter mare's back where she thought she had struck too hard. It wasn't as bad as she thought, the trauma drugs having already staunched the bleeding. She then looked at Marilyn's left shoulder where she thought she might have hit her too hard by accident. It didn't appear too bad but she had Dave look at it anyway.

“I'm going to send both of you back to your rooms to rest," Dave stated, packing up his equipment after treating the two performers. “No stripes were bad enough for me to send either of you to the infirmary." Both of the 'dancers' nodded that they understood him, sipping some bottled water offered to them by Karen to rehydrate themselves. “I'll log you both in for twenty-four hours of rest, OK?"

“Thanks, Dave," Marilyn replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, thanks Dave, I could use a little rest. It's been a while since I've done a suspension show." Trisha replied.

“You're coming back to _ my _ room for a while to rest, love," Linda told the shorter mare, hugging her and giving her a kiss. “I owe you for this and you know it." She clipped a leash to Trisha's collar, gently leading her off stage and towards her own dorm room.

***

Monday morning found Trisha doing some ti-chi exercises in her own room to limber up and get ready for the day. Linda had some things to take care of so Trisha had went back to her room to change clothes and stretch out a bit. This really helped her to keep her powerful, muscular body as limber as her friend's slender equine build. Her exercise concentration was suddenly broken by a knock at her door at just a few minutes after ten, which was quite odd since her regular clients usually were usually at work on a Monday. She wasn't sure who would be knocking at her door this early so she answered it to find Ed Crawford standing at her door.

“Ed? What are you doing in the dormitory?" she asked, confused as to why a client would be here in an area normally off-limits to the public.

“I thought you might like a little bit of good news this morning," he stated, waiting for her to invite him in. Before she could offer him her meager home, Master stepped into view and smiled warmly at her.

“Oh NO! Master! Forgive me for not brushing out my mane and tail! I'm sorry I look like a wreck this morning!" she blurted out, getting down on one knee before the blond-haired man.

“Stand up Patricia, please," he asked, tapping her on the ear. Once she stood, he stepped close to her , pulling her tight to his body. She responded by putting her arms around him, nuzzling against his chest. Even though he had broke her spirit, she would still lay down her life for him if need be. She actually loved him, in a warped, twisted sort of way.

“You, my dear, are my little powerhouse female. I have clients that tell me they're afraid of your strength, my dear. I think that's why I like you so much; even as strong as I am, I really think you could defeat me in hand to hand unarmed combat."

“I wouldn't know, Master. I'm strong and all but I'm not sure I would feel right about going hand to hand with you." The buckskin mare was still confused about the circumstances of Ed's visit, however.

“May we step inside? I feel the subject we want to talk about might be of a private nature to you." Master motioned for her to step back inside her room, where she quickly went to her dresser, grabbed a brush and quickly brushed her mane and tail.

“What does Master wish to talk to me about? Have I messed up with Ed, um, I mean Mr. Crawford?" Trisha was starting to get scared about the situation, like she might have a punishment coming to her for something she was unaware that she had done.

“Patricia, we came here to tell you that I've accepted your application." was Master's reply. Trisha stood there, somewhat shocked about the situation, especially since she didn't expect Master to come tell her personally. Her bottom lip began to quiver as tears began to roll from her eyes involuntarily. She tried to say 'Thank You' several times to him before giving up, her mind racing with emotions that wouldn't let her say what she wanted to say. The tall blond male took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped her eyes, giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead before holding her close to his body to settle her down.

“You know, Chuck, I didn't think she would fall apart like this," Ed commented, looking on at the situation with curiosity.

“I didn't think she would either." Master held her until she finally got her emotions in check, letting her sit down on her bed. He knelt down in front of her and lifted her chin so she could see him better as he said, “You need to go to Equipment Management and turn these bands in, Patricia. They should have your new ones ready for you by the time you get there."

“Yes, Master, I'll go get my new bands this morning." This caused the tall blond male to look rather perplexed.

“About that, Patricia, I expect you to call me Sir or Mr. Waddell from now on. You're now part of a very elite group around here so I expect you to drop that 'Master' stuff when we're around staff, trainers or senior Black Collar performers."

“Yes, Mr. Waddell, I will do that by your request." This felt really strange to not call him Master.

“OK Miss Pollard, now that we have that issue straightened out, I want you to get your tail down there and get your new equipment. Bill Waterman will have your training schedule waiting for you too." Chuck was smiling, watching her almost fall all over herself trying to get out the door at his insistence.

“Well, Ed, what do you think?" Mr. Waddell asked his friend.

“I think you've made a good choice, Chuck. She's very calculating but she also has compassion, too. Um, so do I just close the door on our way out? I didn't see a key in her hand when she left." Ed was waiting to close the door to Trisha's room until he heard from his old friend, former business partner and long time golfing buddy.

“Yeah, just pull it shut because it unlocks with her bands. Those bands that she wears on her wrists act as her keys to the doors around here. I just hope Bill gets the video camera set up before she gets there; I don't want to miss the look on her face when she receives her new bands."

“Yeah, that should be priceless." Ed looked at his watch and pointed out to the taller male, “We'd better run or we'll miss our tee-off time."

“You're right as usual, Edward. I'll get a car brought around front for us and we'll watch the video when we get back here." He took out his Blackberry, making a phone call for his Land Rover to be brought around front for them. He then called Bill Waterman, smiling when he was told the video camera was up and recording.

***

Trisha had quickly made her way down to Equipment (Mis)Management, as it was lovingly referred to, only to have Bill Waterman ask her to wait while he found her new equipment. She was standing around as patiently as she could, shuffling her hooves a bit in frustration. The gray-haired man was watching his feed on a small monitor in the back area, smiling as she tapped her fingers on the counter top, looked over the latest cafeteria menu, examined her manicure and straightened the equipment request forms on the counter just to have something to do. He looked at his watch, noting that he had made her wait ten minutes as instructed by Chuck Waddell before going back out to the counter to begin attending to her needs.

“You can take that black leather off now, Ma'am," he stated with a smile, handing her a magnetic key for her to unlock her bands with. She took off her collar and wrist bands, setting them on the counter in front of her. Trish then knelt down, unlocking her ankle bands and setting them on the counter as she stood back up. While she was busy with that issue, Bill sat a pair of turquoise leather wrist bands on the counter near her.

“Um, where's my new bands?" she asked after she stood back up, expecting to see a full set of trainer's black bands where the collar would have had chrome studs on it as a sign of her status. The only bands she saw were a wrist set made for a tamer, gold studs against glossy deep turquoise leather with a no-key closure system that could be removed at any time by the wearer. They were lined inside with a buff-colored suede material, providing all day comfort for the owner. Bill then sat a pair of delicate gold bracelets on the counter that had real turquoise stones inlaid into them in a band around the circumference, meant to be worn by a tamer when she was off-duty as a sign of her rank.

“Your new bands, Miss Pollard, they're right there under your nose," he pointed out, using 'Miss Pollard' as he should when addressing a tamer. This information confused the muscular female.

“No, Bill, I think you've made a mistake. I'm supposed to be a trainer or so I though. These bands are for a tamer." She picked one up, looking at the paper equipment requisition tag attached to it with a string. It said, “Patricia Marie Pollard, Tamer." The handwriting was unmistakable; it was Mr. Waddell's blocky architect style writing. Her jaw dropped as she thought about the implications this turn of events brought with it.

“What's the matter, Ma'am? Did I mess up on the size?" he asked, trying his best to keep from smiling.

“Um, no, I don't think so ... I just don't know what to say ..." Trisha was totally dumbfounded by this new chapter in her life. She had no idea that anyone else thought her tough enough to be a tamer, of all things. She looked at the tag again, just to be sure that she read it right and this really was happening to her. She knew if she could be a trainer, it wouldn't be that much harder to be a tamer.

“I think you had better try your new bands on for size," Bill pointed out, opening the one in her hand, holding it for her so she could put it on. He snapped it closed on her arm, turning the catch to the inside of her wrist. “That looks real nice, Miss Pollard," he commented as he put a finger between her band and her wrist, making sure it was sized right. As he finished putting the other one of her, he looked up to see tears streaming from her eyes, tears of happiness.

“Bill, I don't know, this is just ..." She found herself unable to speak again, having to stifle a sob as the gravity of the situation sunk in. She had just gone from being a performer to the top of the heap, so to speak. She would have been more than happy to have just been a trainer but this, this was something she felt maybe she had wanted all along. A tamer, the top of the heap, the one that has an important role. A tamer.

“Well, Patricia, I think you should step into the fitting room so we can fit your equipment harness for you." Bill suggested, smiling as she slowly walked over to the fitting room, still in shock over the whole thing. The head equipment technician, Rick Zamora helped to fit her harness, setting her up with a standard issue black ballistic nylon carry harness that had her padlock case in the small of her back, a dildo hanger on her left hip and a carrier on her right hip for her bullwhip, yet to be issued. She would have to be measured to make sure her whip was the right length, thickness and number of plaits, matched to her height, arm reach and strength. In the meantime, Bill issued her a standard trainer's whip; a two-meter light, made of lead shot embedded in a complex polymer matrix. The density in one of these whips was varied throughout the length of the whip so there was no need for a stiff section or taper. It would do nicely until she had her regular one made and issued to her. If she had her guess, Bill would make it for her personally.

“You should carry just two lengths of chain, Ma'am. Any more than that weighs you down and makes your harness dig into your hips." the young man, probably all of twenty-five years old told her as if he were an expert on the use of all of this hardware. He made sure her padlock case was secured to her harness properly, added some chromed double-ended snap bolts to her harness and then he handed her` a magnetic key on a lanyard, used to unlock all the bondage hardware in the place.

“Rick? Is this mine?" she asked hesitantly, examining it only to discover it was a new one, never before issued. He then handed her a Blackberry cell phone with a case to attach to her harness. He finished by giving her a set of keys for the doors and cabinets that were hard-keyed without a magnetic proximity lock.

“Those are all yours, Miss Pollard, right after you sign for them right here," he replied, holding up a clipboard for her to put her signature to it. He pulled out a bag for her to put her things into while Bill printed out her training schedule for her. While her schedule was printing, Bill came over to her with a booklet of sorts.

“Miss Pollard, you'll need a few performance costumes now that you're a tamer. Here's a catalog of the things we've made in the past for you to look through. If you don't see anything you like, there's some outline drawing pages in the back for you to draw out your design ideas on." Bill put the catalog in her bag with her other things and then continued with his thoughts. “When I was at Blue Diamond, we had just a few designs we did, sort of cookie cutter in approach. At least Mr. Waddell is a forward thinker in this area. He gives me full control over the leather work here so I can make you look both beautiful and dangerous at the same time."

“Thank you, Bill. I guess you could make me one of those bustier and thong setups in Turquoise smooth leather for right now and I'll look through the catalog to see if I like anything else." This made him smile because the EM staff had bet on her first costume choice and he would now win $400 due to her choice being the bustier/thong combo.

“OK, Miss Pollard, I'll get right on it for you. I would suggest that you go by Central Costuming and get yourself some day wear clothing and some casual clothing too. You have that coming to you by having been made a tamer."

“Thanks, Bill. I'll do that today." she replied, taking the training schedule Bill had printed out for her and putting it in the bag with her other things. Bill then pointed out a key piece of information for her.

“You'll start your training right around the corner from here tomorrow morning at 8 a.m., Miss Pollard. Wear something comfortable is my advice. You won't start actual VR until the day after." Bill informed her.

The buckskin mare thanked them for their assistance and began walking towards the EM lobby door to leave. She stopped short, waiting for Bill or Rick to buzz her out. She turned to see there was nobody at the counter so she just stood there, waiting patiently for someone to return. After a few minutes, she decided to try the door only to hear the bolt click out of the way as she reached for the handle. She pushed on the door, very surprised to find it now unlocked. Smiling a slight smile, she headed back to her room with a distinct spring in her step now.

***

On the way back to her room, she decided to see if Linda was in hers so she headed that way. As she turned the corner into Linda's hall, the mare ran head on into Tana, a lioness trainer that had come from Blue Diamond. The feline took one look at Trisha's neck, going off on her when she spied no collar there.

“Trisha! What in hell are you doing without all of your leather on? That's one hell of a serious violation!" she pointed out, roughly pushing the shorter mare up against the wall. “You're also forgetting to kneel in my presence too, you sorry bitch!"

“What if I don't want to kneel down for you, Tana?" she asked, giving the taller feline female chimera a crooked smile.

“I'll whip you right damned here for your disobedience, you stupid cunt!" she yelled, her hand reaching for her whip. Trisha was having trouble keeping a straight face while she played this little practical joke out. The look on Tana's face was priceless when the feline thought Trisha was becoming a hard case all over again.

“I'm not sure I would make the extreme mistake of whipping a tamer," Trisha suggested, looking at her manicure just so her bands would be evident. The anger on Tana's muzzle slowly turned to astonishment, then to major embarrassment.

“Oh My God, Trisha ... I mean Miss Trisha ... I'm sorry, I had no idea ... err ... Oh Shit! I almost whipped a tamer! Ye Gods, would that have ever been an epic fuck-up!" Trisha was sure Tana was blushing heavily under that buff-colored coat of hers.

“It's OK, Tana. I just received these this morning."

“Oh, I'm so glad for you, Miss Trisha! Please accept my apologies!" she begged, hoping to avoid a confrontation with the mare, since Trisha now out-ranked the feline trainer.

“I accept your apology, sweetie. Well, I'm headed over to see Linda, if she's in her room." Trisha kissed the lioness on the cheek, caressing the top of her left breast lightly as she headed on her way, leaving the feline trainer with a confused look on her muzzle.

***

Linda was busy exercising, working off her rather heavy breakfast that she had enjoyed this morning. Nadia, another feline trainer, had convinced her that the pancakes were to die for so she tried them at her friend's insistence. After working on her last set of forty crunches, she was lying on the floor with her eyes closed, resting when her door opened without a knock first. She smiled when she heard hooves against the hard tile floor of the entryway to her suite.

“Is that who I think it is, invading my personal space without asking first?" she asked, waiting for a response from the person that had entered. She still had her eyes closed, smiling as the person sat down on the floor above her head, stroking her cheek ever so gently.

“Who would you like it to be, sweetie?" the soft soprano female voice asked while tickling Linda's ears just a little with her fingertips.

“I would like it to be my friend and lover, come to spend some quality time with me," she replied, nuzzling against the hand that was stroking her cheek again. Then as Linda thought for a moment, her smile suddenly turned to a look of complete confusion. Even if Trisha had been made a trainer, she still didn't have access rights to Linda's personal space. There were only a very few individuals that had access rights to her suite; Master, the floor security on shift and any tamer on the premises. The palomino mare looked over at the hand that was stroking her cheek to see what might have been a turquoise band around her wrist. Linda quickly rolled over to better see Trisha's bands on her wrists. Tamer's bands

“Trish, um, where did you get those pretty turquoise tamer's bands?" she asked, thinking this might be an elaborate practical joke on her. She looked to see that they had been made by Bill, his maker's stamp visible right by the clasp on them.

“I got them from Bill Waterman." Was her reply. Trish gave her a pensive smile when she said that.

“Um, you're sure this isn't a big mistake on Bill's part?" Linda asked, checking the band on Trisha's arm nearest her again, just to be sure.

“No, it's not a mistake. Somehow Mr. Waddell is convinced that I'm tamer material." She gave Linda a crooked smile and then continued with her thoughts. “You know, it's not like I can't be a pushy, overbearing dominatrix myself, it's just I didn't know he knew I was that tough. I've always thought it might be nice to have the power that a tamer has, to be the one to break in new girls properly." Trisha was looking right at her friend with a serious look on her muzzle when she said that. Doing a quick search, she found the tag in her bag that came from the request for her bands to be made. Linda's jaw went slack when she recognized the handwriting on it.

“Well I'll be damned ..." She slowly looked up at her lover, not sure what to say. “I want you to know that I told him you would make a very good trainer, love but I never once suggested that you should be a tamer! I really hope I didn't fuck things up for you." Now Linda was scowling, thinking about any conversation that she might have had with Mr. Waddell concerning tamers.

“Don't get upset over it, maybe things will be OK, sweetie. Once I get through VR and training, maybe this will just be something we'll look back on and have a good laugh over." she turned her self around so she could face Linda, muzzle to muzzle. She took her friend's wrists, putting them over her friend's head and holding them there playfully. She worked her way between Linda's legs, maneuvering herself until their groins touched so she could grind her sex against Linda's, giving her gentle, intimate pleasure.

“This is what I've missed for years," Linda pointed out, giving Trisha a kiss on the lips.

“I can't lie about it; I missed your loving too." Trisha was hoping to possibly keep her emotions in check but it wasn't working so well. She had tears streaming down her muzzle and her nose was getting stuffy from crying. “I love you, sweetie," she said softly, putting her head against Linda's shoulder, finally letting her emotions go.

“I love you too," Linda retorted, holding her lover's powerful body tightly against hers while her emotions ran away with her too.

***

Tuesday Morning had come and Trisha was standing in line at the staff cafeteria with Linda, looking at the myriad of choices for her breakfast. Everything on the menu sounded so good to her, almost too good in a sense. After much scrutiny, she went to the hot food line and waited patiently for her turn to ask the cook to prepare her choice. She was tugging at her sports bra under the maroon knitted top she was wearing with her tan slacks because her bra didn't feel like it was fitting right. For her, the sensations of wearing ordinary clothing back stage no longer seemed like a normal thing to do. What felt even more out of place was wearing the small gold colored metal name plate on her top like any other staff member. It had a small turquoise square on each end with her name between them. It said; 'Patricia Pollard, Tamer.'

“Nice to see you eating here now. What will it be, Miss Pollard?" the chef asked, giving her a smile as he waited. She remembered him from the performer's cafeteria, where he was in charge of the grill for a while there.

“Good morning Ralph. Listen, I have to ask, do you know roughly how many carbs are in one of your waffles?" she inquired, concerned about gaining weight now that all of the food looked and smelled so good.

“If you're really worried about it, ma'am, just have two waffles with some fruit on top instead of syrup. That's probably about 80 carbs or so." he replied.

“yeah, that sounds good. Put some blueberries on top, please?" she asked, finally using her time by getting some chocolate milk while she waited for her waffles to be made.

“My little waffle junkie," Linda commented, looking at the situation at hand as she walked up behind Trisha, who was waiting for her breakfast. “You always did like waffles for breakfast."

“Yup, you know that's the breakfast that I really prefer but I'll have to watch it. The chef says they're about 80 carbs for two of them."

“Well, just don't eat them every day, then. There's cereal over there by the milk dispensers and the chef can do oatmeal for you if you call ten minutes beforehand." Linda was adding sugar and cream to her coffee while she was waiting for her breakfast of scrambled eggs to be finished. “You have to try the coffee, sweetie but promise me first you won't cry in front of everyone."

***

Her breakfast finished, Trisha was sitting outside the door to the VR training area in the waiting room, sipping her third cup of coffee while she waited for someone to arrive. She could see through the blinds that the lights were off inside, a sure sign that the VR technicians had not arrived yet. According to her internal clock in her neural implant, it was almost 8 a.m. and this bothered her. Had she misunderstood Bill Waterman when he said her training started today at 8? Trisha got up and went over to the door and as she stood in front of the door trying to look in again, she heard the lock bolt on the door cycle. She looked down at her wrists, knowing exactly why this had happened; she probably now had somewhat free run of the facilities as a tamer. This was going to take some serious getting used to.

“Miss Pollard?" the female voice behind her asked, the sounds of cowboy boots against tile floor being noticeable to her. A human probably wouldn't have heard or paid attention to this sound at all but her past military training had conditioned her to listen to and catalog the sounds around her.

“I'm Miss Pollard," the mare replied, turning to see a tall, lanky female sporting a cowboy hat on her head.

“Hi, I'm Ellen Wilson, your lead VR technician. My partner was supposed to be right behind me but as usual, he's gotten lost someplace." The female took off her hat, shaking her long, jet black hair to straighten it back out. “Let's go inside so we can get started this morning. We have a long day ahead of us."

Once inside, the room looked like part of it could have been an examination room for a doctor, considering they would be checking her out thoroughly before she went into VR. There was a locker area off towards one side and she could see one of the multiple VR tanks in a separate room to the right.

“You can put your things in one of our lockers while I get changed into some scrubs," the female stated, indicating for Trisha to use the same locker room as she was preparing to use. Ellen noticed her hesitation so she pointed out, “We didn't get a separate changing area for the techs. James has to use the men's staff restroom across the hall." That made Trisha smile, thinking about him having to change in a toilet stall. Ms. Wilson handed her a standard issue Blue Hawaii robe and in doing so made a comment; “You are without a doubt the strongest female in the place, dear. Possibly the strongest sentient in the facility, if you ask me."

“Thank you," the mare replied, giving her a polite smile. Trisha was always embarrassed by others making comments about her body with the exception of Linda. For some reason, it didn't bother her for Linda to comment about her strength. She stripped down to her birthday suit, finally taking her bands off and setting them on top of her clothes in the locker. It still felt very strange for her to be able to remove her wrist bands by herself without a key.

“We need to do a complete physical examination on you this morning and then fit your VR gear so you'll be as comfortable as possible for eleven days." Ellen picked up Trisha's medical history folder from the table, skimming the contents for anything that would stand out. Looking at one page, she asked a question of the mare. “When you had your wrist broken, it says here that you've complained about it hurting you from time to time after it healed."

“Yeah, it's still painful after a long performance night," Trisha replied while closing her locker door. She then put on her robe, tying it loosely in a half bow. “It hurts right here," she stated, showing the tech where pain radiated from on the outside of her wrist, “Usually when it's a suspension show or if I have my hands bound over my head for more than a few hours."

“Well, we'll need to to an MRI on that wrist. We might be able to do some minor surgery on it to eliminate the pain for you." Just about that time, James Longbow made his appearance, hopping through the door on one foot while trying to slip on his tennis shoe on the other without untying it.

“Sorry I'm late, Ellen. I went to drop off some mail at the post office in the main concourse." Finally getting that shoe on, he then leaned against a desk to do the other one. “I forgot my ID badge so I had to go back out to the parking lot again to get my spare one out of my car." The male, obviously Native American by his appearance and accent, was already dressed in his scrubs when he came in to meet with them.

“Hello, I'm Patricia Pollard," she said to James, offering her hand as a welcoming gesture which he took and gave her a warm, strong handshake in return.

“Hi, as you probably have guessed, I'm James." he stated, pointing to his ID badge. He looked her over carefully, smiling at what he saw. “You're the first Brandon 87 Heavy that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I knew about Linda Moore being here but I haven't had the opportunity to meet you until now."

“I don't think I'm anything special," Trisha commented, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

“You, my dear equine chimera, are without a doubt a very strong and unusual female. There were only sixty of your 87 Heavy model ever made and that number is now much smaller after battle casualties during that last Middle East police action."

“I didn't look at it that way," Trisha mused as he guided her over to the examination table.

“OK, up on the table so we can check you over," John asked, putting his stethoscope in his ears while she got up on the table for him. “take a few deep breaths for me, please?" he asked, checking the sounds of her lungs.

***

Trisha had been through a very long exam that day, even taking a quick ride in the MRI machine to look at her wrist. The exam did show a bone that had not knitted in proper alignment, leaving a sharp edge for the tendon sheath above it to rub across. Ellen had tentatively scheduled her into arthroscopic surgery for the day after her two weeks of hands-on training would be completed. The mare was now being carefully fitted for her VR equipment that needed to be comfortable for eleven days of all-day wear.

“You're the first to use this equine shaped helmet," Ellen commented, unwrapping it after taking it out of its shipping box. She detached the optical visor from the helmet and handed the helmet to Trisha who slipped it on.

“It fits real loose," the mare stated, holding the helmet still while she moved her head inside it. “I hope you have a way to snug it up because this is just waaay too loose for VR."

“Yeah, it has pads and silicon gel bladders to snug up the fit," Ellen replied, checking the fit herself. “Give me a minute and I'll have this thing tight on your head." After a few fit pads were changed and a little gel pumped into several bladders, the helmet was snug on her head. “OK, it's time to put on the VR sensor suit and check your buoyancy."

Trisha put on a stretchy, heavy neoprene/lycra suit that had several heavy cables connected to it, attached to the hundreds of gold contact pads inside the suit. Once the back was zipped up, she slipped a neoprene neck seal over her head and put the helmet back on, Ellen helping her to attach the seal to the helmet. James then put a clear visor onto the helmet that was weighted to match the VR visor, making sure it was sealed to the helmets' opening. Trisha stood still while they lifted her up with her harness, careful of her surroundings while the technicians swung her over and carefully lowered her down into the VR liquid that was just slightly viscous compared to water. Once in the VR tank, she helped James to attach her harness to an electronic scale to check her buoyancy. Ellen read the meter's readout from above while James added the necessary weight to the suit to make Trisha neutrally buoyant.

“How does that feel?" James asked the mare through his helmet, since he was in the liquid with Trisha.

“Um, I think it's fine," she replied as James turned her upside down to check the weights. She needed to be weighted slightly hoof-heavy so she would remain upright in VR. She slowly turned back upright which brought a smile to James' face.

Once extracted from the tank, the techs helped her to remove the sensor suit and guided her to the showers so she could clean up. Once showered and dressed, Ellen saw her to the door, giving her a hug on the way out. She smiled at Trisha as she said, “OK, you're done for today, Miss Pollard. We'll see you tomorrow at 8 a.m., right here."

***

Trisha headed back to her room with thoughts of changing into some sweats before heading off to score some dinner. As she reached her room, she noticed that there was a hand-written sign hanging on it. The sign informed her that she had been moved by housekeeping to suite 288, on the same floor as Linda. She smiled as she read the note that said her things had been moved for her so she turned and headed for the stairs that would take her to the next floor up.

Once on the second floor, she headed for her new room, following the signs that indicated the room numbers. Her room was almost across the hall from her friend's room, which seemed convenient for her. She heard the striker bolt retract as she touched the knob, smiling as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Her new suite was substantially larger than Linda's with a full sized living room, a generously sized kitchen with a dining table and a separate bedroom. The bedroom and the living room both had an attachment wall, for bringing a hard case in and 'adopting' her, as the practice was called at another Blue facility. There was a 'hardware closet' in the short hall between the living room and the sleeping quarters, filled with items that Trisha was quite knowledgeable in their use because she had been bound with or had each item in there used on her at least once.

The bed was a semi-firm king-sized bed with some very soft, silky sheets, four down pillows and a blanket on it. Further exploration of the room turned up a comforter and a few blankets in the bedroom closet in case she needed them. A closer inspection of the bed frame proved that this bed, however had a center cable, four corner cables and anchor points everywhere for use with attachment hardware for her 'adoptee,' should she end up with one. She was fairly sure that she would, at any rate. She laid down on the bed, enjoying the comfort of it.

Thinking over the situation, this was getting better for her in a way. She only needed to have three clients and no more than five, her asshole was now off-limits unless she permitted it and she now had some respect from the others. Maybe the thought that she might not leave here any time soon wasn't too bad of a trade-off. Just as she began to fade off to a nap, she heard a polite knock on the door.

Answering the door, she found Linda standing there, holding a bottle of sparkling cider and a pair of long stemmed glasses.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked, giving the shorter female a smile.

“Wipe your hooves at the door, please!" Trish replied jokingly, almost pulling Linda inside. “You have to see this room! It's just incredible!"

“I had a chance to look around when they were moving your things for you." the taller mare confessed.

“Why didn't I know you would do that?" Trisha mused as she guided her friend to the dining table. Linda opened the cider and poured them some to drink, then gave her friend a loving kiss. The taller mare smiled and lifted her glass to toast the occasion;

“Here's to your new position at Blue Hawaii. May it somehow bring you a little happiness."

***