He tossed the volume aside and picked up another, bearing a brightly coloured jacket which read Figging and Salves for Ponies. She'd seen that one before and couldn't help a shudder. 'Shame we can't have some fun with chilli oil or hot liniment pasted inside those disobedient little holes of yours. I bet they would get you trotting your luggage around the track in double-quick time. I'll put that on our list for tomorrow I think, along with a spot of figging. You won't enjoy having that ass spanked anywhere near as much if I shove a generous portion of ginger in there to spice things up. We could make it part of your morning routine, along with an ass fuck straight after.' He gave her a cruel smile. 'Pity we can't do it now, but you're an annoying anal virgin, so we'll have to wait until that's been taken care of.'
Jenny could not believe she was relieved to have all her holes filled and locked up tight, but it appeared there were definite advantages to wearing makeshift chastity belt.
Kyle hummed as he made his way from one tome to the next. He was obviously enjoying himself and why wouldn't he be, with his favourite subject of torture close to hand. Jenny wondered what the possibilities of being rescued in the next ten minutes actually were. One in a hundred? One in ten thousand? One in a bloody million? It was probably closer to the mark now she knew who ran the ship. You did not cross her father. Not if you valued your life.
'Ah, how about, Abrasion Play?' Kyle sounded relatively excited at the prospect and as far as Jenny was concerned, that did not bode well. 'Yes, that will do for starters. I think I'll rip open that latex suit of yours and do some engraving on your back. After we're finished with that I'll give you a good flogging in the Objectifier and then practice my aim with the bullwhip. We'll see how much of a pain-slut you are after I've finished with you.' He scowled as she returned his gaze unflinchingly. 'Eyes to the floor, P. Ponies do not retain eye contact with their Masters. You're so green it's shocking. Let's take care of that first, shall we? You've already soured my milk today, but thankfully there's still room for improvement. That suit unlocks itself in about two hours and boy am I gonna have some fun with you then. Those holes of yours won't know what hit 'em.'
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic packet. Ripping it open with his teeth he took out two pink, cone-shaped objects and rolled them around in his fingertips. 'I think it best if we fit these now. I haven't got anything more to say to you. He pulled the neck seal of her hood wide in his hands and rolled the rubber cones into her ears. Stuffing the wax earplugs in and twisting them in deep with his fingers, he yanked the hood back over her head. She wouldn't be hearing a thing through those and her latex covering. Petal whimpered a bit, her mouth a dribbling mess, but there was little she could do about it. He would take away her sight next, but he wanted her to see a few things first.
Walking around her, his spurs clinking merrily as his heels hit the concrete floor, he fastened each of the four leather cuffs around her ankles and wrists. He took his time about it. Anticipation was the mother of the beast in this room. He then casually strolled about and began picking up the items he would need for his scene: a toothbrush, a blindfold, an emery board, a steel wool scouring pad, a piece of medium-coarse sandpaper, and some mentholated muscle rub. Placing them all on a steel trolley in front of her, one by one, he let her imagination run riot. Her eyes had quickly focused on the odd assortment and it was clear they were not at all happy. Good. Foraging around in his pocket once again, he found a penknife and a one pound coin. Finally he laid down a heavy rubber flogger and his favourite five metre leather bullwhip. That should have her offering prayers upwards, even if none of the others did.
Flicking the steel blade of his knife open and bringing it to her face, he let the sharp edge scrape along the latex of her cheek. Her eyes displayed no fear yet, but they would. He let the blade meander down her face, dragging at her rubber covering. He moved down to her neck and then he curled it backwards, up over her shoulder blades, letting her feel the pin-prick apex of its point as he twirled it along her spine. She shuddered. Smiling to himself he picked up the blackout goggles and attached them around her head by means of a thick elastic strap. He had taken yet another sense from her and she should be feeling pretty apprehensive by now. The tell-tale hard line of her shoulders on the rail spoke volumes. You wait till I've finished with you, he thought. You'll barely be able to move.
He watched as her groin began to pump up and down upon the horse. Perfect. The suit was playing its evil game with her yet again. She groaned in acute frustration, but there was little else she could do to ease her discomfort. There would be a good deal more squirming going on soon, after he'd had his way, but this time it wouldn't be in pleasure. Concentrating on the job in hand he decided the corset would have to go. Shredding the crisscross of laces that decorated her back, he watched as it fell dejectedly on either side of the padded rail beneath her. Someone could re-lace her back into it later and he'd have a word to make sure they tightened it to its fullest potential. There were no slackers in his camp. Refocusing his attention on her back he let the knife begin to score a pattern into the thin fabric. She jumped up in shock as the pressure of the blade made itself known.
That was the beauty of the blindfold; all sensations were heightened and enhanced. Loosening his hold on the knife he began to etch his design. There were soft curves to be drawn, angular lines, and he even managed a near perfect symmetrical triangle. Humming away, almost sorry that she couldn't hear his happiness as he became absorbed in his knife play, it wasn't long before his careful project was completed. All he had to do was tear out a few key pieces of rubber and he could begin stage two, which would be infinitely more fun. It was time to make his design a little more permanent. It was going to be a new addition to her wardrobe and one she would wear for the next few days, because he was going to scour it deep into her skin.
Jenny had plenty of time to examine everything on the trolley, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was up to. A toothbrush? If he wanted to clean her teeth she'd probably offer him a blowjob as a reward. What he wanted with the sandpaper, pot scourer and muscle rub was anyone's guess, but she was reasonably sure she wouldn't like it. When he got out a penknife she felt herself shrinking away from him, remembering the last time Mark had pulled one out on her in the Red Room. When the blade whispered down her cheek she wanted to run, but that wasn't going to happen, so she took deep, calming breaths and told herself that nothing bad was going to happen to her. They wouldn't be allowed to do anything permanent with her, surely?
When the blindfold came down and plunged her eyes into a world of perpetual midnight she wanted to howl. She couldn't move, hear, see or speak and her beautiful sadist held a knife in his hands. Scenarios ran riot through her head. She felt the blade coil upwards, over her shoulder, before it fell back to drag along her spine. Thump, thump, thump. Her heart thundered in panic and breathing was already difficult enough as it was. Suck in air and try to stay calm, she told herself, which was all very well but somewhat difficult when someone was running the sharpest of knife edges down your spine. Lingering over each vertebrae, it teased her with its wicked point before it moved back up between her shoulder blades and began a delicate dance upon her skin.
The blade crept over her flesh and occasionally pricked her, its cold point warning of the dangers of sudden movement. Jenny didn't know how long she held her breath for, but she did know her heart was doing flip-flops. The buzzing clit stimulator had her hips wanting to burst into song and dance, and it was all she could do to keep them in check. She allowed her body a tiny, shallow breath and clenched herself tightly as the urge to bounce back and forth in pleasure overtook her. She wasn't sure whether the biggest torment was feeling the knife casually rip her suit to shreds or curbing her body from movement. Kyle's earlier words were not comforting. Would he leave her in here, all alone? The boredom alone would drive her insane. What about food and water? He wouldn't be allowed to just abandon her, would he?
Al
l these thoughts and more ran riot through her head as the blade tripped and fell in jagged little bursts. Locked in her own little world of terror and dread, she almost didn't realise when he began tearing at the rubber, peeling parts of the sticky fabric from her skin. Her suit chose that moment to up the ante and her hips did buck then, feeling the dildos pound inside her and bring her to the edge of the word 'despondent'. The expected shock ripped through her just before the peak of relief was achieved and left her maddened, her whole body shaking with a raw kind of rage that threatened to rival the sentiment she felt for her father. She would get out of here and she would get even.
When the toothbrush came at her the sensation was almost pleasant at first. A few mere tickles as the soft bristles were manipulated over the holes in her suit. Jenny squirmed. Her whole body was over-sensitised due to the effects of the device and her world had grown a whole lot smaller with the addition of earplugs and a blindfold. Bizarrely enough, the toothbrush sent shivers of arousal down her spine and as the pressure slowly increased she craved the gradual increments and the slight touch of pain they departed.
Closing her eyes, because there was little point leaving them open, her mind concentrated solely on the subtle shift of her breathing and the feel of the brush strokes across her skin. Kyle had begun a pleasing rhythm and she relaxed into it, letting the heat sink deep into her skin. It was all going swimmingly well until the image of Mark Matthews came flitting across her brain out of nowhere, and bam, there he was in front of her.
Kyle took a couple of seconds to admire his handiwork. Not bad, even if he did say so himself, but it was about to get a whole lot better. He'd begun gently, starting with the humble toothbrush in order to lull her into a false sense of security. The pressure he used initially would be just enough to wake her skin up. It would give her something to concentrate on in the dark little hole he had immersed her in. He worked each little piece of his pattern with careful strokes, barely pinking the flesh as he went to work on his masterpiece. She would now begin to understand what was coming and what the other items he had gathered in front of her would be used for. It didn't normally take them too long to figure it out. When she did he expected some struggling. That would aid him as he worked her over with the emery board and scouring pad. The more squirming the better, in his opinion. When the sandpaper came out she would be crying and when he finished with the mentholated oil, well, let's just say that things would be getting a little nasty.
The emery board came at her skin with a good deal more enthusiasm than the toothbrush and that was when it dawned on Jenny that the end of this scenario was not going to be a pleasant experience. From behind the privacy of her black prison her eyes opened and widened instinctively. Sandpaper, she'd seen sandpaper for chrissakes! That was going to sting. Why didn't he just flay the skin from her back with a crop and have done with it. At the rate he was going they would be here for hours. The idea of hyperventilation crossed her mind, but she thought the better of it. Could she withstand the pain? Probably. She'd had a good deal of experience with the stuff. That didn't mean to say that when the muscle rub came at her she'd be able to keep silent. She might be able to withhold her tears, but it would be a close-run thing. She knew where this was headed. Kyle had found out that she didn't mind a good spanking, so he was going to do his best to make sure her final thrashing was anything but pleasant.
The nail file was a difficult beast to wield properly and it wasn't long before he had given up his game, but he had done enough. Her skin had started a slow burn that no amount of water could ever extinguish. When the steel wool came at her she felt her body buck in agony.
'There, there, hold still, Petal. We're almost halfway.'
His words were the tiniest echo in her head, but he made sure she heard them. Halfway? He had to be joking, but his slow, repetitive strokes belied her thoughts. He was going to drag this out. Nothing less than tears and total surrender would satisfy him. So she did the only thing she could do and retreated in on herself. It was far easier than it should have been with the earplugs and blindfold keeping all other distractions at bay. She focused on the pain, isolated it within her head and let it wash over her body. It was a bizarre kind of meditation technique, but it worked, taking the edge off the pain and softening the edges to a dull ache. Her mind concentrated on nothing more than the image of a flickering candle flame, her attention glued to the black spot at the base of the flicker. It wasn't an easy game to master, but she'd had plenty of practice at it. The hardest part was keeping stray thoughts at bay.
'You're tougher than you look,' commented Kyle loudly, his mouth hovering above her latex-clad ear. Running his fingers over his angry red handiwork he hoped for a reaction. He didn't get one. Not even the slightest murmur escaped her.
Jenny could imagine him frowning, narrowing his eyes in displeasure as he wondered what to do next. She suspected that most of the girls within the facility would be sobbing by this point, and now she'd denied him that pleasure he would redouble his efforts in order to achieve it. Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.
The sandpaper scraped across her skin and it felt like he was peeling her apart, layer by layer. In all honesty she supposed that was exactly what he was doing. Each slide of the coarse paper across her flesh felt like acid, dissolving her bit by bit. The endorphins in her body were now beginning to reach a dangerous pitch.
When the sandpaper stopped her skin felt raw and messy. It felt like the aftermath of a volcano explosion with rivers of molten lava and craters of simmering steam. The pain was unbearable and it was getting difficult for her to focus her thoughts. There would shortly come a point where the agony overtook everything and no amount of concentration or meditation would help ease it. Trapped in her black void and overwhelmed by conflagration of her body, she prayed that the end of her torment would come soon. When she heard a bottle being vigorously shaken she let out a guttural sob, barely audible through her rubber ball-gag, and trembled all over.
Kyle dragged the moment out. As she tensed and braced herself for the worst he ran his fingers over her excoriated skin. She began struggling in earnest as the smell of the embrocation cream assaulted her nostrils. Pungent and acrid fumes filled the room and she spluttered against the ball inside her mouth. She could just about make out his voice, humming away happily as he prepared to make her suffer. How on the earth did someone with such an angelic face contain the heart and soul of a monster? If there was a God she was now pleading with him, using every fibre she possessed, to get her out of this hellhole with her body mostly intact. Her mind was already gone. As her suit went into overdrive beneath her and began to vibrate, hum, thrust, pound and shake, the tiny coin came down to inflict agonies that even she could not have predicted.
Jenny would have screamed, but her mouth was too tightly stuffed, so she kicked, bucked and squirmed instead; anything to get his coin off target and away from her flesh. When everything went suddenly quiet, for a single stupid second she thought her prayers might have been heard. Her body tensed and stilled, tightly strung out in panic and her ears strained to hear the smallest sounds, but the room had gone eerily silent. It increased her terror tenfold. Where had he gone and what was he up to? The next thing she knew something tight was being wrapped around her neck. All he'd done was go for another restraining device. Cling-wrap, if she wasn't mistaken, judging by the way he was wrapping the stuff around her body, over and over. That way she wouldn't be able to move a muscle when he worked the mentholated oil into her.
Having discerned his plan she began to struggle anew, putting a lot more effort into her game this time, curling up her wrists and trying to thread them back through the cuffs in an effort to break free. The cuffs were far too small and fastened much too tightly, but that didn't stop her trying to tear her arms off in her attempts at freedom. The wrap rolled further down her body, encasing her torso and ass in an unbreakable cocoon of plastic that would make sure she remained as still as a mummified object. He'd left the upper
portion of her back free so he could continue his work and made sure the rest of her had the manoeuvrability of a clamped car. She was locked down tight.
The four corners of her mind closed in and began spinning while her breathing became difficult and erratic. Jenny decided that if these were the kind of punishments Kyle employed, they were way past her endurance level and she would do everything the goddamned man said from here on in - including neigh like a horse or bark like a dog. She didn't care any more. This was all about survival and she wanted to live another day. The first thing she needed to do was get rid of Kyle. If she had to become someone's sex slave to do so, that was a small price to pay.
There was the softest of thuds, barely audible through her plugged ears, and she assumed the box of wrap had hit the floor. She tried to remain calm but it was horribly difficult when she knew what was coming next. Sure enough when the coin came down to gently stroke her upper back she had little but murder on her mind. Kyle's. Brutal anger flared brightly in her sub-conscious and her fingers curled into tight fists within her mitts. She was not going to give in and sob because she was well aware that was exactly what the bastard wanted; her complete and utter capitulation.
A few minutes later, although they might reasonably have been seconds, she was rethinking her earlier stance. The mentholated oil was trickling through her pores and it felt like hydrochloric acid. She began to wonder if she was losing her mind. Her body was close to orgasm and although the extent of her suffering had delayed the auto-correct feature of her suit for some time, it would not be long in coming. She, however, would not be coming. Not this time. As the muscle rub scoured her exposed skin she felt silent tears leak down through her blindfold and lay like sodden, wet pools in the latex of her hood. The only thing keeping her sane was the fact that she had not sobbed out loud or struggled within her plastic prison. You can get through this, Jen, she whispered as a mantra inside her head, over and over again.
A Rough Ride: Pony girl training in latex and leather (Pony Tales Book 5) Page 20