'Well, isn't that dreadful?' Mark had the beginnings of a tick in his jaw. He had to wait a moment before continuing. 'Tell Lady Lyle that her husband is now on the way home and reassure the darling woman that he hasn't bought any horses with her money.'
Isabelle, rather suspicious after witnessing his expression, said, 'Of course, Sir.' She placed the high heels in her hands slowly back on her feet and elegantly strode away. This would be the second pair of pantyhose she had ruined today. As she got to the entrance of the stable doors she whizzed around to face Mark, who was still looking in her direction, and asked, 'Is nettle soup still on the menu this evening?'
'Only if you're volunteering to pick them, darling Belle. We're short of volunteers as it happens.' The tick in Mark's jaw was getting more pronounced by the second.
Isabelle smiled and left the words, 'I shall notify the chef,' in her wake.
It was a good job plan A had worked, Mark mused. If he'd left everything to plan B and his phone call to Clementine Lyle, who had of course been 'unavailable', he'd have been picking nettles without a stitch of clothing to his name for the last thirty minutes or so. It was not a particularly pleasant thought. Thankfully, everything had turned out rather nicely.
When the ponies had finished eating they would all be expected to attend their afternoon lessons. These would take place in the training room. Miss Redcliff was going to be late for hers. He would see to it that she had a very pleasant start to her afternoon. It was the least he could do for her, considering what she had endured this morning. He was still surprised she had managed to quell her body's reaction to the electro-stim dildos, the wires of which were still trailing out of both her holes. She was turning out to be an impressive novice. If she didn't graduate first in her class, it would be a surprise.
When Mr A came in and announced that classes were soon to begin, Mark took him aside for a quick word. As a Master, it was not necessary to ask for his permission to keep one of the ponies behind, but in Albrecht courtesy could go a long way. As soon as Mr A had witnessed the rest of the ponies being led out of the stable, he nodded at Mark and made swift his exit. Daniel was the last to leave, and as Petal's groom he would be required to wait outside until the pair were finished.
Jenny was thirsty, but there was little she could do to alleviate her problem bar yelling the house down, and she honestly couldn't take any more torment at the moment, so she wisely decided to suffer in silence. A little tremor of panic had begun to take hold of her. What if rescue wasn't coming? What if she had to spend years of her life here? The worst thought that encircled her head was: what if she began to like it as much as the other ponies seemed to? A couple of months entrapped in this hell and a bit of brainwashing and she might not want to escape. The sex was intense and she hadn't even had any real sex yet, although her body hungered for it with the passion of a newly-wed bride.
Hearing a sudden metal stampede and witnessing everyone leaving the stables but her, her anxiety began to creep up a level. There could be only one reason behind it and she wanted no part of him. Having licked her trough clean, she could do little but wait for someone to help her off the cold steel waist bar and back to a standing position. With her backside currently thrust into the air thus, she felt horribly exposed and wondered what was going to happen to her. She had not forgiven Mark for his heavy-handedness yesterday, and didn't trust him anywhere near her body; especially after what he had just said to her in the paddock. She would not let him do that to her. She would be nobody's slave, no one's plaything and she certainly would not dance to any tune he might choose to play for her.
'Have you missed me?'
Jenny remained silent. This time it suited her that ponies were to remain mute at all times.
There was a long pause. He sighed. 'You may speak.'
She did not want to speak. So her lips stayed motionless and her vocal chords remained closed. It did not matter that she had been desperate to use her voice all day, because now that he'd commanded it, she wished to defy him.
There was another long pause before the sound of footsteps could be heard. She felt a warm body press into hers. Two smooth hands reached underneath her corset, caressing her waist before they moved upwards to twist the nipple clamps that dangled from her breasts. The bells tinkled their delight, even though their victim squawked in horror, for the pincer grips of the two little clamps had been quickly released and blood began to flow back into her tortured buds. His hands stilled and left her in intense discomfort for a couple of seconds, before reattaching the clamps once more.
'Did that get your attention?' The murmur in her ear produced delightful shivers down her body and even though they were unwelcome, they continued to bubble through her bloodstream.
'So, have you missed me?' The warm body removed itself from hers and a gentle thwack from his hand teased her left ass cheek. Even though it was a soft smack, she felt its power reverberate through her. Why had she never found chemistry like this with any of the men she'd dated? Life sucked. It truly did. There was another smack on her right ass cheek. She suppressed the urge to rotate her hips. The smacks continued in measured doses, and even though she required no warming up in his presence, Saharan heat began to envelope itself around her body. There were more smacks.
'Are you thirsty?'
She did not grace the question with a reply.
'The grey tube hanging over your food trough in front of you is water. All you need do is suck. I remember telling you something about sucking. Ah, yes. It was that you are shortly to get very good at it.'
'I already am.' Jenny berated herself for the instant reply. To prevent further malfunctions of her mouth she searched for the tube he had mentioned, almost camouflaged by the stone of her trough. Finding it, she gripped it between her teeth and began to pull at it with her lips. The water was cool and refreshing. Not having realised how thirsty she was, she drank her fill. It might not have been wine but right now it was nectar of the sweetest kind. She reflected that it was funny how your attitude towards life and its small comforts could be readjusted in the space of little more than twenty-four hours.
'You're not bad. For an amateur, that is. You'll need lots of work before that mouth nears a decent professional ability, as your antics in the paddock proved. Failed miserably with your pony boy, I hear.' His hands had stopped smacking and had now begun to wander down the curve of her inner thigh.
Jenny nearly snorted her water. Amateur? He must be joking, because she'd certainly sucked upon more than her fair share. He'd hit a nerve, though, because she felt the power of the comment smart unpleasantly, not unlike her still throbbing nettle rash.
'Do you have any questions for me?'
She stopped drinking and smiled. Although she couldn't turn to face him, her neck squirmed in its steel confines before she said sweetly, 'Yes, when are you leaving?'
It was Mark's turn to snort. His fingers slid down the slippery slope of her labia to her clitoris. He began to pulsate it. 'Now, you don't really mean that.'
With vivid flashbacks dancing in her brain, recalling just what had happened the last time she had been left alone with him, Jenny had no problem with replying, 'Oh, but I do.'
Mark's eyes flared. 'My, oh my, that backside is asking for a date with the biggest paddle I can find.' Another smack, but this time its delivery was a little more enthusiastic.
'Do your worst.' If Jenny could have laced her words with cyanide, she would have. She was not going to play this game. She'd rather deal with the pain. It was becoming increasingly apparent that she would have to cope with it on a daily basis, so she might as well get used to it. Rescue did not appear to be arriving any time soon. It wasn't a problem. She would grind her teeth together, if and when she was able to, and wait it out.
He leaned once again into her prone body, so close that she could feel his breath whisper against her neck, and said, 'You say the sweetest things.' He let his cupped hand linger on her pubis and although her whole body throbbed
anew to be used, she didn't deign to reply. Chuckling, he pulled away from her and his footsteps faded into the distance.
Waiting was something Jenny had never been good at. Impulsive by nature, she was quick to temper and not much slower with retaliation should the need arise, although it was now rather difficult in her current situation. She had few options left to her, but if she could find a way to make Mark's life difficult she would take any chance that presented itself. He would not be so quick to covet her if he knew what she was made of. The trouble was, it would be dreadfully hard to prove that to him, when she had more restraints on her person than a death row criminal. Hopefully an opportunity to prove her mettle would present itself, and sooner rather than later.
When Mark returned he bore a smooth wooden implement around a foot long and four inches wide. Made of Bamboo, the paddle was extremely hard but also very light, which meant he could wield it for hours, should it be necessary. It rarely was. As far as an 'attitude adjuster' went, this paddle usually delivered. He could swing it hard and fast due to eight pre-cut holes within the paddle's frame, which decreased its air resistance. No expense was spared with any instrument of torture at Albrecht.
When he re-entered the room, it was to find Jenny squirming all over her steel bar. It appeared that remaining still and waiting was something that would require lots of practice on her part. She was a smart girl by all accounts, so he suspected she'd learn quickly.
Softening his footfalls so she wouldn't hear him coming, the first action he took was to give her enticing ass a decent thwack with his paddle. There was a shocked pause before a gasp left her mouth. 'Stings, doesn't it?' He did not expect a reply, nor did he get one. He let the fingers of his left hand wander up her back as he once again pressed his body into hers. Walking them up her spine until they reached her neck he fluffed her short ebony hair.
He sighed. As her trainer he would only manage to get up to Albrecht three days out of seven, at the most. That would be hard enough, but at least he knew it wouldn't be a chore. She posed a challenge that he'd not had the pleasure of seeing for years. Could she be tamed? Or would she be broken? It was always a fine line with the spirited ones. This one had so much fire, such determination, and the passion running through her veins was strong and powerful. In his hands she'd be a mewling pussycat in no time at all, but in another's? She might well spend the whole of her time at Albrecht in the bowels of the earth. Without doubt his filly would be experiencing plenty of dungeon time. Her very nature would demand it. Could she cope? Perhaps.
He gave her another whack with his paddle, softer this time, to gain her attention. 'Are you not going to beg me to help you escape?' It was unusual for novices in her position not to be screaming the place down as soon as their bit and bridle were removed. If they weren't screaming, they were normally sobbing. Jennifer Redcliff did neither. The silence continued.
'I'm sure you've been told that you won't get many opportunities to air your voice around here. I'd make full use of each opportunity that presents itself.' He waited. Then he waited a while longer. Finally she cracked.
'I don't see the point in begging you for help. If you were going to help me you'd have done so by now. I see you as the enemy, so what's the point in talking? Do what you want to do and have done with me.'
Mark let her words wash over him, and they injected pleasure all over his body. It was a shame he couldn't see her face in the position she was in, but nevertheless he suspected her aquamarine eyes would look magnificent.
'I'm not an ogre, and talking to your enemy can sometimes get results where silence can't.'
Jenny studied the pattern of red brick weave in front of her. Then she admired the concrete floor below. Looking up she studied the dark, old, oak beams that made up the ramparts of the barn's roof. 'Fine. My arms hurt. Please can you untie them?' It was worth a shot.
Mark didn't answer her question with an affirmative, but he immediately began to untie the laces of her arm-binder. It took a few minutes before the tight ropes were released and the strapping removed. He folded the leather restraint in two and hung it over one of the spare metal waist poles. He then helped her up and with a soft cloth, cleaned her face from the debris of mashed food it had managed to accumulate. 'There, that's better. All cleaned up. Now get yourself on all fours and offer that backside to me.'
Jenny wanted to swipe the cloth from his hands, more than capable of cleaning up after herself with her arms released, but she did no such thing. Instead, she became drunk on the sight of his handsome face smiling down at her. Dressed in carefully tailored splendour, his grey suit was expertly cut and his white shirt crisp and pristine. The dark-blue silk tie was fastened in a Windsor knot and the clip of a shiny gold pen could be seen on the outside of his top left breast pocket. She wondered whether it disguised an elegant fountain pen or a boring old biro beneath such a brilliant facade. Her money would be on the fountain pen. These images and thoughts flittered quickly through her mind as she lowered her body to the floor. Her sex hungered for the caress of his fingertips and her body longed for the pain the paddle would provide. It was disturbing. She was already being indoctrinated to enjoy the perverted goings-on in this place, and it was no lie that the orgasms she'd received at Albrecht had been the best of her life. She had a suspicion that within a week, sex outside of the compound would pale unpleasantly in comparison, just as she had been warned.
The forced submission messed with her head. One second she hated it and in the next she would be begging her captor for more. If it was anyone but Mark, things might have been different. Why did he have to have such an effect on her? And why couldn't she overcome it? She found herself wanting to be his slave; yearning to cater to his every little whim and desire. Was she nuts? It certainly felt like it. The man had proved himself to be a vicious sadist. She would do well to keep that in mind and make sure her faculties remained intact.
When her fingers hit the uncompromising concrete, she immediately looked at her nails before remembering she had none. That was one less worry, she supposed. The whole of her upper body ached and protested, the arm-binder not being the kindest of restraints, but she guessed it would ease off in a few minutes' time. Either that or she'd be given something equally as painful or worse to think about.
'Open those legs wider.'
She, of course, did exactly as he said.
'Wider.' Using his paddle against her inner thighs he batted at each in turn until he had spread her legs to his satisfaction. 'Lovely.' He gave her a friendly swat with the paddle, just to watch her squirm. 'Are you wet, Petal?'
'Yes.' Whilst wincing at his use of her new name, she saw no point in lying, knowing full well he would probably check if she replied in the negative.
Another smack was delivered to each cheek, both of which had begun to take on a delicate pink tone. Jenny squirmed. He sank to his knees beside her. Facing the opposite direction to her, he used one hand to toy with her clamped nipples while the other used the paddle to exacting effect. 'I love the sound of these,' he said, flicking the tiny bells over and over with his fingers. 'So tiny, so sweet. And I love watching your ass redden under my paddle; the rosy hue you wear becomes you.' As if to emphasize his point, the paddle rained down blows in a smacking frenzy.
Jenny snorted in response. Though his blows were beginning to warm up her flesh they had yet to cause any harm.
'Oh, you think not?'
He grabbed a handful of her ass and dug his fingers in. 'Do you like the feel of this paddle against your skin?'
'Yes.'
The whispered word was music to his ears. 'I'm going to have a lovely Mahogany paddle carved just for you. We'll emblazon your name all over it. We'll have to, as it's so bloody long. Pretty Pink Petals is quite a mouthful. Or we could shorten it to "Pet". There'd be room for a sentence then. How about: "Pet's Punisher?" It has a certain, naughty ring to it.' He drew his free hand away and aimed the paddle at her ass once again, swishing it quickly from left to right and ma
king sure that each successive stroke was harder than the last. He wanted to hear beautiful sounds coming from her lips, which were at present tightly closed. They wouldn't be for long.
Jenny wiggled. Then she squirmed. Finally, she danced. It wasn't just her backside, her whole body rotated and jiggled. The paddle was relentless. Its fiery heat was spreading warmth through her flesh that she had no control over. The sensation of being spanked, with her legs wide open and ready to be taken by this man, was exquisite. She wanted to be firmly under his thumb. She wanted to feel his cock grazing for entrance at her swollen core and she wanted to be taken. He could be hard, rough, slow, gentle; any of these and more. She wanted it all. She would take it all. When his hand finally stopped pounding her ass and dipped down the valley of her ass-cheek she bleated like a newborn lamb. She was hungry. So very hungry.
Mark had much the same yearnings as Jenny, but he wanted to see to her pleasure first. She had displayed exemplary submissive behaviour in front of Lyle earlier and it deserved to be rewarded. He was nothing if not fair. Moving behind her, he located the wires which dangled from her plugged holes. He used them to pump the dildos gently inside her. The sigh that escaped her lips made him smile. These were noises he wanted to hear. Curving his hand under her, he made a leisurely journey to explore the insides of her pussy, which required a visitation with one finger, then two and eventually three before a gasp of pleasure escaped.
Now his fingers were sticky and slick with her own lubrication, Mark proceeded to slide two conjoined digits, his middle and index, from the entrance of her pussy to the nub of her clit. He made tiny slippery journeys with them, forwards and back. A loud and wanton groan burst from her lips. He pulled his fingers away from her sex and reached around her face, sliding the sticky mess across her cheek. Bravely he inserted them inside her mouth, wide open and panting with exertion. He braced himself for a bite, but without being asked she sucked them, providing his fingers with yet more lubrication. It was almost too good to be true. Using the gooey liquid to expert effect his fingers circled her clit, rubbing in concentric circles and drawing out low moans of pleasure. His little pony was most definitely in heat. 'Tell me what you want,' he purred in her ear.
Named and Shamed: Pony girl training begins... (Pony Tales Book 4) Page 15