Named and Shamed: Pony girl training begins... (Pony Tales Book 4)

by C. P. Mandara

  When he had finished his ministrations Marianna barely managed to stifle a sob. There was no question that the insistent throb of pain through her teats had taken her arousal to the next level. Breathing deeply she braced herself for what she felt sure was coming next: the riding crop. It was no secret that it was Matthew's favourite instrument of torture.

  Fingering the fine Italian leather of his crop and appreciating its flexibility, Mark inhaled deeply and savoured the heady aroma of lust, which mingled very nicely with the sugary sweetness of clover honey.

  'I'm going to eat you, Marianna. Every single inch of your flesh is going to be tasted, savoured and consumed by me. Does that arouse you?'

  'Mmmm,' was the frenzied but vociferous reply. It was hard to articulate your actual feelings with most of a banana sinking deep into your vocal chords.

  'I thought it might. To make sure you do not take your pleasure earlier than I would like, your nipples will be cropped if I feel you're becoming overly excited.' To demonstrate his point he let the tip of his crop smack upon her left teat. Even though the fabric of her dress softened the blow, a gurgled moan ensued. 'The longer those elastic bands are on your nipples and the more I crop them, the more painful it will be. It will encourage my 'meal' to stay still and be a good girl, won't it?'

  Marianna could only nod her head in reply.

  With no further ado Mark began to devour his breakfast. He began by sucking the delicate slices of strawberry from along her lower spine, piece by sticky piece. His fingers drew patterns in the honey before his tongue lapped at the gooey mess. Obediently she remained as still as a statue, although a hand on her ribcage revealed a heart that was beating far faster than it should have been. His honey-coated hands reached around to squeeze her breasts, over the fabric of her dress, and play with her nipples. Firm fingernails pinched them, eliciting sharp gasps from his victim. The elastic torment was performing well.

  When his clean-shaven face was liberally coated in fruit juice and goo, he moved around to the front of the chair and bent his head to capture her lips, biting off a sizeable chunk of banana in the process. After he'd swallowed, he glued his sticky lips to hers and threading his fingers deep inside the wavy tresses of her hair, he almost forced her to give up the whole of her banana by sucking fiercely. Adjusting the pressure of his mouth he let her feed him his treat, inch by slow inch. Had his mouth not been occupied he might have raised a smile because the banana had not a dint imprinted upon its flesh. She was a careful one. While her tongue duelled his with emblazoned passion, she managed to retain firm control of her body. That would change. Sucking the last inch of nectar-sweet banana into his mouth he bit it in two, ate his half and returned the other half back to her. A few calories certainly wouldn't hurt her.

  'Swallow.' Oh, and wasn't that a word he loved? Plying her mouth with his once more, he waited until she opened beneath him before plunging two of his sugary digits inside. He stroked the smooth, liquid-silk of her tongue. 'Clean them.' There was little point, they were going to get a whole lot dirtier before long, but he had an urge to feel her tongue and lips working upon him. She didn't hesitate. Sucking and tonguing him greedily, he let her repeat the process on each of his fingers.

  Trying his hardest to put all thoughts of Jennifer Redcliff firmly behind him, he thought what a darling submissive Marianna would make. He could install her at his apartment, strip her permanently naked and have her serve him around the clock. She could sleep at the foot of his bed, she could scrub his back and she could suck him dry at regular intervals. For kicks, he could even give his housekeeper the day off and make her cook, with the threat of a good caning if her culinary skills weren't up to scratch. He'd never brought a submissive back to his home and the idea was tempting.

  His thoughts, annoyingly, strayed straight back to Miss Redcliff. How glorious would she look, her eyes blazing with fury, as he began the long and arduous process of taming her? It would be a tough job, but someone would have to do it. Her snarly personality, her sharp wit, that beautiful face; they could all be trained to worship the very ground he walked upon. That one would enjoy taking pain for him as Marianna never would. It was a notion not even worth entertaining. Jennifer would not be for sale. Whatever her old man was up to, it wouldn't bode well for him, of that he was sure. Cursing, he tried to refocus his thoughts. He decided Marianna's backside was a sure fire way to capture his attention.

  Poising a set of perfectly matched and even teeth around the apple cork, he crunched into it. His tongue began to circle the remaining piece of apple, which was still firmly embedded inside her. She'd have lots of fun trying to remove that later. He buried his nose into her ass cheeks and slowly picked up each slice of fruit he'd hidden there. They tasted divine. Her perfumed body lotion had mingled with the honey, and combined they were a heady aphrodisiac.

  'Sit.' When she immediately went to seat herself from where she was standing, he corrected her mistaken assumption. 'I want you facing me, legs spread so damn wide they shake at the effort, and keep those hands behind your back.'

  Movement was not easy when your body had squishy fruit stashed in its most secret of places, noted Marianna, but move she did. Obediently she lay back in the curved wood of the rocker and stretched her thighs until they threatened to break away from her body. She had heard from office gossip that when Matthews issued a command he meant what he said. If he'd asked for trembling legs, he would not be satisfied until he had witnessed the effect with his own eyes. Thankfully, it wasn't going to be a hard feat to accomplish. Her legs were already shaking, but not with the effort of opening them. His mere presence was enough to produce a minor earthquake within her body. When he bent his head and aimed for the last morsels of his breakfast, Marianna banged her head against the back of her chair and screamed. She could not take much more of this.

  Mark was trying to find his strawberries. With his chin resting on the base of the chair he suckled at their hidden resting place. Deeply embedded within Marianna's body, they did not give themselves up easily. The first one had to be cajoled out of her with some impressive suction and the aid of his tongue. Savouring the taste of one somewhat misshapen strawberry, coated profusely with the essence of female arousal, he took a moment to feast upon the delicacy before employing the use of his fingers. Delving deep inside her they widened into a 'V' shape and captured their prey. In between each strawberry he let his mouth wander. He gave her a nip on the inside of her thigh with his teeth, a stroke of his tongue along her labia and a single pulse of his finger upon her clit. The woman was squirming with so much vigour you'd have thought her ass was on fire.

  It was all Marianna could do to keep her hands held behind the chair back. Like the rest of her body they were shaking horribly. The instruction had been drummed into her during training. Hands behind you at all times, unless ordered otherwise. They were straining against the rigid hold she had set upon them, her fingers ready to lunge at his head and pull his face into her groin. She ached. Her whole body ached. Arching against him, groaning madly, she tried to show him exactly what she wanted, but every time her clit neared his mouth he subtly moved away. He could not leave her like this a second time, could he? The man could not be that cruel. When her eyes connected with his she saw humour reflected in their depths. He knew what she was thinking.

  'If you're a good girl, Marianna, I'll let you dance upon my chair. But you won't come until I give you permission. Are we clear?'

  'Yes Sir,' she hissed. He had nearly robbed her of the ability to speak.

  'Good, because I've only just started. If you get too close to the Promised Land, beg to be whipped.' Those words robbed her of the ability to do just about anything.

  Mark's fingers toyed with her abraded nipples, as if to remind her of the delicate predicament she was in. Leaving the top half of her dress in place, the light rub of the material at each movement was a constant reminder of his threat. Burning up from within she locked her hands more tightly around the chair, feeling
a direct line forming between the teat he was tugging upon and her pussy. His fingers twisting the reams of elastic this way and that, offered both soothing relief and indescribable pain, in the form of unbearable arousal. Her body withstood the valiant attack on its left side, but the right was her undoing.

  'Please, whip me, Sir.' She choked upon the words, sobbing them out.

  His hands probed. His tongue licked. His fingers stroked. His body rubbed against hers.

  She had to beg a further four times before relief was granted.

  When she finally came her body was incandescent with desire. So exhausted was she, in the aftermath, that she slumped against the chair and remained insensible to all around her for several minutes afterward.

  Having watched Marianna nearly collapse with exhaustion, Mark cursed. She was not used to this type of exertion and he had used her too hard. She had probably been out for a run this morning with her personal trainer, and after last night's session combined with the fact that she looked like she hadn't seen a decent meal in forever, she wasn't going to be of much use to him. They'd have to work on that. He would issue strict instructions regarding her care this afternoon.

  Looking at his watch he cursed again. He was already late and there was no time to remedy this situation. She'd done little to stem his hunger for Miss Redcliff; quite the opposite in fact. He was now determined to have one particular and very spirited pony as his own, come hell or high water.

  He'd have to yank a blonde into the car with him for the journey down and let her suck him off. He was not overly fond of blue balls and that needed to be taken care of before he shot off to Albrecht. The thought of in-car entertainment wasn't as pleasing to him as it should have been. For the third time that morning he cursed. This time his venom was for Miss Redcliff alone.

  Pretty Pink Petals

  There was a long pause before Agnes cautiously called out, 'Hello, anybody there?'

  The sound of scraping and banging could be heard, before a pained voice called out, 'S'all right, Agnes, just had a bit of a fall.'

  Agnes flung open the door and was greeted by Daniel, sprawled on the concrete amidst what appeared to be a whole armada of perfectly matched Louis Vuitton suitcases.

  'Goodness me!' exclaimed Agnes. 'You're not telling me you carried those all the way from the hotel?'

  'Didn't have much of a choice,' grumbled Daniel. 'These need to be put in her cart in the exercise yard so she can earn her yellow collar. If I'd realised how many of the bloody things she'd brought I'd have requested a sodding B52 bomber to airlift them.' Hetty raised an eyebrow. 'Sorry about me language, Ma'am,' he said, casting his eyes downward whilst looking duly chastised.

  'I think we'll let it go just this once,' said Agnes, who surveyed the mess thoughtfully.

  'I don't know how I'm going to get down to the paddock with 'er in tow as well,' said Daniel.

  Agnes smiled at the young lad, who looked ready to drop, and winked. 'Now don't you worry. There's an easy solution to that problem.'

  'There is?' Hetty looked up at her friend enquiringly.

  'Wheelbarrow.' Agnes smiled broadly.

  'Ah yes,' said Hetty, 'good thinking!' There was a wheelbarrow a few doors down in the grooming room. It was used to ferry buckets, tack, hay and the like. Then she frowned. 'But he won't have any hands left to make sure twinkle toes here doesn't run off.'

  'Oh, he will,' said Agnes, the smile not leaving her face.

  Hetty frowned. 'He will?'

  'He will, because I'll be pushing it for him.'

  'But you can't do that. You've got a bad back,' said Hetty, aghast.

  'That's a good point,' said Agnes, biting her lip. 'Thank you for volunteering your services, Henrietta. I'm sure Daniel will be much indebted to you.'

  Hetty spluttered.

  'Don't think I haven't forgotten about the Deep Heat incident, Henrietta. You can do this for the poor mite. He's going to have his hands full taking care of Petal, and I suspect it's going to be quite a day for them.'

  Having been neatly manoeuvred into a corner Hetty asked dryly, 'Will we be even after this?'

  'Probably not,' said Agnes, who'd already turned away to focus her attention on tidying up the tack room. She began to whistle a jaunty tune, discouraging further conversation.

  Amid protests from the groom, who was trying to manoeuvre his way forward through the cases, Hetty stalked off to find herself a wheelbarrow.

  Daniel got to his feet and began dusting himself down. It wouldn't do for Mr A to catch him all messed up. He kicked one of the smaller suitcases to try and ease his foul temper. It didn't help. Piling two suitcases one on top of the other, he decided to sit down for a minute and take a breather.

  Jenny's smug smile of rescue had vaporised. She reassured herself that it was still very early and that her father would have her out of here by midday at the latest. There were other pressing concerns to contend with. Why were her suitcases on the floor? They were scraping them along the concrete for God's sake. If she could have opened her jaw in horror she would have. Did these people have no respect? Her cases were things of beauty and they contained fragile garments of sheer lace and silk. Watching in dismay, as her groom sat his backside down on not one but two of her cases, she began to whinny, snort and stamp her hooves. He was going to put a dint in one of her favourite pieces of luggage if he didn't shift his ass soon.

  'Shut up,' muttered Daniel, not even bothering to look up at her. 'You've caused me enough trouble today already. Spying Hetty, whose massive bosom was racing down the hall and drawing the rest of her along in its wake, he shot up off the cases and reached for Jenny's bridle.

  The shiny wheelbarrow seemed to have a life of its own. Bracing himself for impact against two large flying watermelons which didn't appear to be stopping anytime soon, Daniel breathed a sigh of relief as the contraption managed to halt several inches short of him. He just managed to survive being knocked out by about three centimetres. Removing the handles carefully from Hetty's hands he loaded it up quickly and began to push it out the door.

  'Oh no you don't, young man.' Henrietta waggled her finger at him and shook her head. Daniel was finding it rather difficult to look her in the eye, so he decided the downcast demeanour was a good one.

  'Please let me push, Ma'am. I'll be back for Petal as soon as I've finished.'

  'That's very honourable of you, Daniel dear, but I'm afraid I've been signed up for this and I intend to do my bit. Besides,' she lowered her voice conspiratorially, 'Agnes has one or two secrets on me that I'd rather she didn't share. She can be funny about these things.'

  'There's nothing wrong with my hearing, Henrietta, and I'd say the tally is now up to several hundred.' Agnes, who had been watching the proceedings out of the corner of her eye, smiled and waved to her friends. 'Hope things don't go too badly later,' she nodded to Daniel, 'and let me know if she tries to palm off that wheelbarrow on you. I'll have her guts for garters. Although the idea of finding a new use for my Deep Heat cream could be another more appealing option.' Agnes smiled sweetly.

  'Fine. Fine. We were just leaving, weren't we?' Henrietta picked up both handles of the wheelbarrow and began to push. It took some considerable effort to get the thing moving.

  'Catch you later, darling.' Agnes waved once more to the departing crew and shook her head.

  'Please let me carry that for you, Mistress,' begged Daniel when they were out of earshot. He couldn't bear to watch the struggle Hetty was having with the over-laden barrow.

  Hetty, who had now reached the end of the concrete corridor and was pushing the large wheelbarrow over uneven cobbles, had gone rather red in the face. She was not in the least bit daunted, however. She kept reasonably fit and at least her sizeable bulk gave her edge when she managed to get herself in motion. Stopping might be a problem, but she would tackle that when the problem arose.

  'Do be quiet, Daniel. If I can hogtie several pony boys at once whilst administering a good paddling to each at
the same time, then pushing a wheelbarrow is not beyond my capabilities.'

  Daniel did not look at all happy, but you did not argue with a Madam. Having no other option but to remain silent, he took out his ill humour on Petal by yanking her leash somewhat harder than necessary.

  Jenny, whose metal hooves were slipping this way and that on slippery cobblestones, had just had her first real moment of doubt. Desperately trying to retain her balance, with her arms bound awkwardly behind her, her brain was frantic with worry. What if rescue wasn't coming? What if she really was stuck here, at the mercy of these people and their terrible games? How long would she last? Her thoughts strayed to yesterday's tour of the dungeon and she wondered just how strong a woman she was, if faced with the kind of torments that room could provide. She wanted to believe she could fight this, take all of these cold people on and escape the confines of Albrecht Stables using nothing more than her wits and wiles. If Mark was right, and she was here at the behest of her Father, even if she managed to break free of this place she would have nowhere to go. While she was on the subject of escape, how the hell was she going to manage that with no arms, no fingers, no voice and no clothes? Going into immediate panic mode, the corset seemed to wrap itself even tighter around her stomach, making breathing impossible. She tried to suck enormous gulps of air in through her bit, but the constriction of the garment wouldn't let the precious substance into her lungs. Buckling to her knees she began choking in earnest. She wanted desperately to put her hands to her throat, as if that would somehow ease her lack of breath, but her arms stayed firmly put and her panic increased tenfold.

  The wheelbarrow rolled on, oblivious to the commotion behind it. Daniel, eyes going wide, immediately bent her over double and said firmly in her ear, 'Take smaller breaths. You need to use the top of your lungs now, so breathe shallower breaths but a little bit faster than you would normally. That's it,' he encouraged her, when he witnessed her doing as he said. Patting her head he whispered, 'Good girl,' and began to stroke her back as if to calm her down. He let her stay that way until she began breathing normally again and then he helped her back to her feet. 'You all right now?'