It didn't take long for the ground to become churned and slippery as the horses' heavy hoofs cut up the grass beneath them. Finding herself slithering about on the metal horseshoes, it took all her concentration to keep herself upright and moving forward. When her suit cut off abruptly in the middle of yet another almost-orgasm, she nearly strangled herself with a perilous skid of her hooves and the gurgling, choking sounds she emitted were not pretty as she clung to her balance for dear life.
'A baby hippo at her first ever ballet class would have more grace than your newbie, Levison.'
Kyle had just delivered a rather vicious swat to Petal's inner thigh and the sarcastic comment that came from directly behind his ear made him jump, nearly throwing him off balance. The laugh that followed set his teeth on edge.
'Katrina. Do you have to creep up on people like that?' Kyle cracked his neck and turned to face her, his hands on his hips. 'And aren't you supposed to be on vacation? Can't stay away, huh?'
Ignoring his comment she gave him a splendidly vicious, blinding smile. The only reason she had entered the stables this morning was to rattle his chain. She'd be back home with her feet up in approximately an hour's time, but he didn't need to know that.
'The odds of you getting her to wear the black are about three hundred to one in the stable stakes,' she purred. 'It's laughable that she's the only trainee who hasn't managed to earn her yellow yet, and that's by far the easiest colour to manage. Judging by the enthusiasm in her brisk trot she'll do well to make it to the green.' Katrina compressed her glossy red lips together and gave him a playful look. 'Matthews was the favourite. Why on earth she picked you is beyond me. You're untried, wild, lack experience and have a short attention span. I didn't realise you have yet to prove yourself. You've not managed to qualify even one of your trainees for the coral, yet alone the black collar. Did you know the owner was unaware of your previous history at Albrecht? Now he's had a chance to look through your stats, I've heard he's reconsidering giving the position back to Matthews, to ensure Petal's success.' She watched Kyle's face drop in horror.
Katrina nodded to herself with quiet satisfaction. She had successfully managed to bury the knife deep into what little brain matter Levison possessed. By the looks of him, the knife had come away bloodied. He was all ego. Now faced with the seeds of doubt, liberally scattered all over the ground, he would endeavour to make sure they did not take root, and if Katrina was not much mistaken, he would do that by taking out his frustrations on Miss Redcliff. He was predictable, if nothing else. After her taunts he would put Petal through hell and back to ensure she wore the black in record time, and wouldn't that be just peachy? The filly known as 'P' would be gracing her dungeon before the day was out, Katrina was sure of it. The shame of the matter was that she would not be there to witness it.
Information Overload
The phone's shrill tone drilled a hole inside Mark's head the size of the Grand Canyon, made even worse because it was one of the more ridiculous hours of the morning. He rolled over on his king-sized divan, let his hand search about groggily for the phone and managed, by some amazing piece of luck to hit the right button to accept the call.
'Who the hell is this?' His mouth was bone dry, the after-effects of alcohol no doubt, and he felt a moment of fierce anger. For the first time in ages he had been exhausted enough to sleep soundly. Being rudely awakened from such a rare slumber was not going to induce any friendly conversation on his part.
'Mr Matthews?' The guy on the other end of the phone did not sound at all sure of himself after his abrupt greeting. 'Err, maybe I should ring back later?'
Mark did not give him the chance to put the phone down. 'Now you've successfully woken me up I suggest you get on with the purpose of your call,' he said in a deceptively calm tone that had 'danger' stamped all over it. 'If I find out you're wasting my time I will make it my mission in life to ensure that your life is as miserable as I can possibly make it for the foreseeable future. So talk. Now.'
'Yes Sir. Err, you did say to call you as soon as I found out anything. Immediately, you said.'
'Khalil.' Mark sighed. He hadn't recognised the man's voice through his sleep-filled haze. 'Next time I say "anytime" that does not include the hours between midnight and five a.m.,' he clarified, 'but seeing as you're on the line and I'm awake, you might as well fill me in.'
'Well, I've managed to find out quite a bit. Where should I begin?' Khalil huffed out a breath of air as he considered his question.
'At the beginning?' Mark's answering tone was curt with a touch of sarcasm. Khalil got the message.
'Surprisingly enough, your voice recording was pretty easy to match. Ever heard of a Michael James Geoffrey Redcliff? He's an oil tycoon. Made his money...'
Khalil continued to bring him up to date on the finer points of Mr Redcliff's illustrious career path, but Mark was too stunned at that little snippet of information to take anything more in. Not that it mattered; he was well aware of the way Redcliff had made his fortune. Could this be true? Not only was the man the owner of Albrecht stables, but he had sent his only daughter there to be trained and disciplined as a sex slave? He'd suspected it was Redcliff all along, but to have it confirmed was even more shocking than the initial suspicion. The man was sick. What was this all about - money? If she earned the black she'd be worth a fortune and then he could sell her, but goddamn, even so. He began to pay attention to the conversation once more, but his brain cells were working overtime.
Khalil had got him bra and panty sizes, just as he'd asked, as well as dress and shoe size. He'd also managed to find out a brief life history, details of her education, travel, social life, friends, regular pastimes and fitness regime - or lack thereof. Disappointingly, she did not appear to engage in lesbian sex, but on the plus side she did not spend her weekends in front of the TV. Unfortunately, what she normally did on a Saturday night was a whole lot more unpalatable. He could understand why daddy dearest had become rather annoyed, but the fallout was nothing short of nuclear. Did Redcliff intend to wash his hands of her entirely?
That gave Mark pause for thought. He'd remembered her tears in the surgery as she'd been given over to Levison. At the time he'd thought it was because she had finally come to terms with her predicament. That hadn't been the case at all, had it? She recognised the voice over the loudspeaker; the voice of her father, casually endorsing her life sentence in a world of debauched sexual slavery without a shred of emotion. The poor girl wouldn't have to be overly bright to deduce that all hope of rescue would most probably die with that revelation. Redcliff had the money and resources to bury nearly anyone who stood in his way. Mark's gut clenched at the pain he knew she would be suffering. She would be feeling betrayed and abandoned. She was a strong little brat, but a blow like that would knock her sideways, and being paired with Kyle was a disaster waiting to happen. Having successfully managed to distract himself yet again he snapped to attention when he heard Khalil mention Kyle's name.
'Kyle's history is pretty ugly, I'm afraid. You sure you want to hear this?'
'Oh, I'm sure,' said Mark in a dangerously quiet tone, and decided that if it was anything really unpleasant he was going to scrape out Kyle's innards with a spoon - preferably while he was still alive, but dead was almost as good - stuff him with fluff and mount him on his mantelpiece.
'Levison has been interviewed by the police in connection with more than one crime towards the female sex. The crimes were committed in the US, which might explain his fondness for the UK at the moment. I believe the Feds haven't finished with him yet. He messed up a couple of females pretty badly, and whilst his stand is that they enjoyed that kind of thing, their take on the matter is somewhat different. Both girls signed disclaimers to his "edge play" treatment, but both claim the documents were signed under duress.'
'Are you able to access pictures of what he did?' Mark had his face in his hands and his eyes were closed in disbelief. This was worse, much worse than he'd been anticipating.
Sadists were allowed at Albrecht, of course, but they had to know when to draw the line. This idiot clearly didn't. How the hell had he slipped through the net? There should have been checks run on the man, and lots of them, before his foot could even cross the threshold. CRB checks, references, previous training details... something didn't add up.
'Kyle Levison isn't his real name, is it?' Mark tasted the familiar burn of bile in his throat. Jennifer Redcliff was giving him an unwanted addition to antacids, dammit.
So, he had a problem on his hands. A girl had been abducted against her will and given to someone who would immensely enjoy every ounce of torment he could wring out of her. He would not have his trainee's best interests at heart. He would be looking out for himself and his pleasure. Jennifer Redcliff was a firecracker. All she needed to do was light the touch paper and Kyle would go off with a bang. There would be no second chances. If she got injured he'd simply spin some fanciful story. The man appeared to be rather good at it.
'No, we haven't managed to get access to the pictures, although we're still trying. As to your second question, you are indeed correct. His real name is James Miller. He's in the UK with fake documents.' Khalil clucked his tongue on the line, disapprovingly.
Mark wanted to do much more than the odd spot of tongue clucking, but held himself in check. There would be plenty of time for that later. 'So, that means if we could get our hands on him outside the security of Albrecht we could have him deported,' he said thoughtfully.
'Good luck with that,' said Khalil. 'He has a digs on the compound and rarely leaves the base.'
'Great,' said Mark darkly. 'Well, my thanks to you, Khalil. You've given me plenty to think about. Keep on the case and see what else you can dig up.'
'Oh, before you hang up there's one more thing you should know.'
'Go on,' said Mark, thinking that whatever Khalil had held in reserve till the end couldn't trump the information he'd just divulged about Kyle.
'Michael Redcliff isn't Miss Redcliff's biological father.'
Cleaning Duty
Jenny was not upset when the session upon the hot walker abruptly ended. Kyle was unpleasantly rough as her bridle was unfastened and when he dragged her forward by her reins, he used so much force she thought she'd been fired from a catapult. It was clear that the blonde lady was up to no good, again. Unfortunately, Jenny hadn't been able to catch a word of the conversation; her hood and the sound of plodding hooves had seen to that. One thing was for certain, though, the lady looked like she had a mean streak in her at least a mile wide and it could easily rival her new trainer's...
Marching her forward with his lethally long strides, Jenny had to trot three steps to keep up with his one. Even though they were now on grass, her balance did not improve due to the awful pace he was setting. No quarter was to be given for her 'trainee' status, it appeared. She was breathing heavily in seconds, having not yet recovered from the light exercise session of the hot walker, and when Jenny finally spied her Louis Vuitton luggage and a small cart in the distance, she wanted to stamp her hooves in protest. Surely they were not going to go through this farce again? There was no way she would be able to pull around her eight suitcases without giving herself a hernia the size of a beach ball.
'Right, you've had your warm-up, now it's time for you to get down to the main event. You need to earn your collar. You're the only trainee who hasn't managed to achieve her yellow collar and I am not going to look like a second-rate trainer while you drag your heels around. Get your butt into that cart and get ready to pull for all you're worth, P.' Kyle gave her already smarting backside an extremely good wallop with the flat of his hand and wasted no time in securing her to the one lonely cart which appeared stranded on the practice field.
When the arms of the sulky were threaded through her corset, the strain of the cart was almost crippling. Her body already felt sluggish, tired and weary beyond belief, so there was little chance she would be able to accomplish the same task that had proved impossible on a freshly rested body just a couple of days ago.
'Pull!' Kyle was standing in front of her brandishing a mean-looking, whippet-thin crop. Jenny's bruised body, still smarting from the flogger, shuddered at the thought of what the whip might do. Her feet stumbled for purchase on the dry earth and she sunk her heels in with purposeful intent. How hard could this be? 'If I have to say move again, P, your ass will regret it.'
Jenny would have liked to mention that he had not actually said 'move' the first time, but getting that little snippet past the gag would be nigh on impossible, not to mention stupid. Kyle lacked a sense of humour gene. He certainly made up for it with the mean and nasty gene, which was more than a little disconcerting. She wondered if he was conscienceless enough to rival her father. Suspecting she did not want to delve into that thought too deeply, she braced herself to take the strain of eight impressively-sized leather luggage cases.
After contorting and straining her body into every position imaginable in order to get enough traction to enable her to pull her cart forward, Jenny was coming to terms with the idea that the thick, white, uncomfortably high collar she wore might be hers for life. Straining this way and that with all her might, the thing would not budge an inch. She even grunted under the effort of trying to move the unwilling beast behind her, and she had been carefully taught that ladies did not grunt. Ever. The whip connected with her backside and she howled.
'Pull!' Kyle was visibly agitated after his conversation with Katrina and it appeared Jenny's backside was going to provide the means of lessening his frustrations with the world. The spitefully hard blows of the crop should have burned like fire into her tenderised skin, but the latex suit had woken up again and was doing its thing. The dildos were quickly expanding, and this time she felt no pain as both channels were dilated, just a hot rush of pleasure and sticky fluid settling at the base of her crotch. How humiliating. Her body obviously loved this kind of treatment.
The blows, which Kyle was trying to permanently embed into her ass, were only serving to excite her further. As the ovals of plastic grew they began thrusting with renewed vigour. It was almost as if they knew the heightened state of arousal her body had now achieved. The stimulator buzzed with a cruel pace that could have shaken her eyes out of her head, whilst the wires all around her pulsed with a delicate whirr of electricity. Her body was on the cusp of orgasm in less than thirty seconds. The pain of the crop had fuelled it in both intensity and speed and she surged over into the land of pleasure with a fierce thrust of duelling dildos, burying themselves deep. She screamed out her pleasure, the sound actually managing to make itself heard around the gag before the suit realised what was happening and put a stop to the proceedings. The stopping mechanism was brutal. Both her breasts were squeezed in a vice-like grip and her nipples were pinched excruciating tightly and pulled sharply forward. A short sharp shock ran all the way through her body and her clit was nipped in such a way that tears rolled helplessly down her eyes. So much for her promise. The pain brought her to her knees but her mind rejoiced. She might have received only the tiniest kiss of pleasure, one that had barely surfaced before it had been savagely snuffed out - but it was, she felt, a victory of sorts.
Kyle, of course, didn't see things in the same light. He came at her backside with the crop as if it was a machete and he was trying to scythe down half of the Amazon jungle. Unfortunately for him his actions backfired miserably. The acute pain of the continued blows overrode all of Jenny's brain circuits and she tumbled quickly into another short sharp climax. Her latex-clad knees buried themselves in the grass below her and she choked mindlessly around her gag. The suit didn't know what to make of it, having stopped an orgasm only seconds before, so it remained eerily silent and still while it tried to work out what to do next.
'You good-for-nothing, worthless piece of horseflesh,' Kyle yelled as he slammed the riding crop against the sulky, which promptly broke the tip off. Throwing it down in disgust he turned to face the source of his d
ispleasure and growled at her. His predicament was somewhat similar to the suit's, because he didn't know what to do with his trainee either. She seemed to enjoy pain, which was going to anger him no-end and put a stop to most of his fun, at least for the time being, until he discovered a way to work around the problem. For now, he guessed the best thing to do would be to get her moving around the track with her cart, which would hopefully restore plenty of misery and despair back upon her face.
Throwing two of her heavy cases to the ground he barked, 'Move!' She went nowhere, though he could tell she was putting her back into it and trying her hardest to get the thing started. He threw another suitcase on the grass and yet another before the wheels started rolling underneath her. They didn't roll particularly fast and she didn't keep a straight line. Her balance was off and she was breathing hard through her gag in a matter of seconds. Kyle was pissed. Why on earth had he bid for her? She was currently the worst performing pony-girl in the stables. Yelling directly into her eardrum and smacking or pinching her ass cheeks, he managed to get her to complete a single circuit of the track before she collapsed in exhaustion.
Kyle was furious and for several reasons. One, he'd have to get special dispensation to get rid of some of her suitcases. There was no way in hell the girl would ever manage to lug eight of them around. Two, she'd had an unauthorised orgasm and he rarely allowed his ponies pleasure unless they had greatly pleased him - and she most definitely had not. Three, he couldn't punish her by walloping her backside into the next century because she seemed to enjoy that kind of thing. And four, now he had to figure out a way to punish her that didn't involve his favourite subject - pain.
Jenny had a few moments of perverse pleasure in managing to succeed where all the other girls had failed. Now she had achieved one orgasm in the suit she was sure she could chase another one, given the right incentive. Kyle seemed intent on parading her around the perimeter of Albrecht stables, as if showing off some new and wondrous prize, but unfortunately he seemed to have lost his taste for revenge. Typical. Even the sadists were out to screw her, and whilst on the subject of screwing... Jenny needed sex. She needed dirty, rough, messy, nasty sex. The suit, having been in a quandary for a few minutes, had taken the maximum half an hour break before it revved up its engines for a rerun. Within seconds of its renewed attack she was hyper-aroused and her previous orgasm seemed like a distant memory. Her movements, as she was led along by her bridle, were stiff. She was sore in all the wrong places and walking as if she had been riding a horse for several days, let alone having become one. This was still an impossible dream, wasn't it? But she knew with absolute certainty that she was living it and that she would need all her wits about her in order to escape these stables with some semblance of her life still intact. She needed Mark. One way or another, he would help her. She was sure of it. The trouble was the man was nowhere in sight.
A Rough Ride: Pony girl training in latex and leather (Pony Tales Book 5) Page 16