Mark knew where Jenny's eyes had stopped. 'It's pretty impressive, isn't it? It's based on a real horse's penis. Don't worry; we won't start you on that one.' He watched her body shudder. The equine sheath was there for decoration, but she didn't need to know that. He prided himself in keeping trainees off balance and he had barely started with this young little brat.
When Jenny finally managed to tear her eyes away from 'Mr Big' and surveyed the rest of the room, it was the positioning of the dildos that caught her attention. They littered the floor space; dildos, plugs, double-enders, some with controls, some with wires and some which were raised on platform poles. If that wasn't enough, there were more attached to the wall at all kinds of heights. It was all too much to take in. She closed her eyes in disbelief. This had to be a joke, she thought, positive that someone was having lots of fun at her expense.
It was Mark's job to watch his trainee's reaction and like a beady-eyed hawk, he missed nothing. He'd say shock and astonishment covered it, which was normal. She wouldn't be allowed to get away with closing her eyes when she spotted something she didn't like, though. Knowing it was best to nip bad habits in the bud, he pulled the crop from his belt and gave the plug in her backside a firm tap. It had the desired result: she jumped and her eyes flew open. 'You're not allowed to close those baby blues unless you have the permission of your trainer. Nod if you understand,' his voice was curt. He placed the tip of the riding crop on her clitoris and rubbed gently. At the absence of a nod he gave the nub a little lick with the crop. Jenny gave a choked gasp and nodded.
'This room will help you to please your trainer in several ways. You will learn how to take a thick plug in your backside to display the most impressive tail possible, not to mention a nice thick cock or two, should the occasion arise; which I can guarantee it will. You will also work on your sexual performance, which I suspect needs a lot of work. We have machines that will monitor all of those sweet grasping muscles you possess, measure how tight you can squeeze them and for how long. They'll help you improve your technique by teaching you many different types of strokes in order to ensure the maximum pleasure for your trainer and they will work on the strength in your thighs and buttocks. You'll train both your gluteus maximum and quadriceps, among others, so hard that you won't be able to sit down properly for a week. That won't be a problem for the most part, as you won't be allowed to anyway.' He looked down to see if she had taken most of that in. Eyeing the way her face was yet again glued to the enormous horse cock, he knew he had just wasted his breath. No matter, she'd just have to take the crash course when faced with the practical. To grab her attention he clicked his fingers beside her ear.
'Would you like to try one before we leave?' Mark asked, with his pony-special, deadpan expression.
Jenny quickly shook her head and the whites of her eyes were rather more vivid than they should have been.
'You'd like to delay your gratification? My, you learn quickly. We like that here.' Keeping his straight face, he twisted the plug gently in her backside before pumping it in and out three times. A single, soft, strangled groan was his only reply. Women were so much sweeter when they lost the use of their voice, he thought.
Jenny felt her mouth go dry at the pressure being applied down there. Her ass clamped around the plug being propelled back and forth and while she was still sore, the feeling was becoming more pleasurable. It was unsettling on many levels. She didn't want to enjoy this and she wanted the damn plug out. There was a nasty thought at the back of her head that the humiliation of crawling on all fours and being paraded around stark naked was turning her on more than it should. That would be another point of interest with which to entertain her therapist.
'You'll be pleased to know that our next room is something very close to your heart, judging by the state of those sculpted eyebrows and absurdly long fingernails.' Mark yanked her leash and all thoughts were forgotten. It was time to move on.
The Grooming Room
As she began to move, Jenny tried to dispel the disconcerting images of the training room with a shake of her head. It wasn't easy. One particular image was going to come back to haunt her again and again. Thankfully, as soon as her knees hit concrete, she had a different problem to focus her mind on: rope burn. Deciding on a new tactic she shuffled forward quickly, but lightly of limb. Putting very little pressure on her joints she lessened the burning sensation somewhat. What a mess this rope was going to make of her pale white flesh! There'd be no tennis sessions until the burns had faded. She'd be the talk of the Hillbeir Tennis Club if she turned up in her whites with what appeared to be carpet burns all over her.
Mark studied the new, somewhat elegant shuffle, and decided the kid was going to be a quick learner. That at least was one point in her corner. He didn't expect her to pick up many more on her initial training runs. 'This is the Grooming Room.'
Jenny growled in response. She wasn't illiterate and the writing on the door was quite big enough to read.
Mark stopped walking abruptly and Jenny, who hadn't noticed and was still moving, nearly choked as the collar tightened around her neck. She made a gurgling noise.
'That's lesson one. Watch your trainer closely.' She had deserved more than just a few seconds of strangled air for the insolent growl, but he'd let someone else deal with that. He had more than enough to do today.
On entering the room Jenny's attention was quickly focused on the floor beneath her. It was strewn with hay. It was prickly beneath her legs and arms and made her shuffle even more difficult, if that were possible. Craning her neck upwards, which wasn't the easiest thing to do in her new, unpleasantly stiff collar, she began to examine the room. It was aptly named. There were five spacious stalls to the rear and a door to the outside world. She assumed this meant that the human ponies were led here directly from outdoors, rather than the interior route she had taken. There were all manner of combs and brushes, such as curry combs, mane combs, dandy brushes and body brushes, not to mention an impressive collection of hoof picks on display. There were plenty of towels, a good supply of hairspray, a few plastic buckets and a large ceramic sink in which to fill the large buckets with water. Before she had a chance to investigate any further, a loud whickering noise filtered through the air.
The sound made Jenny start, as all the rooms they had explored so far had been empty and silent. Mark's grip was firm on her leash and his casual stance indicated that the sound was not a threat. Then the smell of sweat and mud hit her nostrils, followed by the sight of a naked pony girl in full tack tossing her head to and fro. Jenny was stunned. A woman had made that noise?
'Good afternoon, Daniel,' said Mark, and turning he gave a cursory nod to the labouring pony. 'Peaches.'
'Afternoon, Mark, beautiful day for a ride, wouldn't you say?'
'Isn't every day?' he replied, and added, 'Where's her twin?'
'Cream? I believe she's a bit tied up.' Daniel winked.
'Ah, you've gotta love the bondage ponies,' said Mark wistfully. He had a thing for rope.
'So, what's the new pony's name?'
'She hasn't got one yet.'
The voices continued with pleasantries, but Jenny was no longer listening. They wanted to change her name to some stupid horse nickname? Over her dead body! Still, she'd be out of here tomorrow, so they could call her what they liked until then. Unable to stop them, her eyes settled on Peaches whose backside was prominently displayed in all its naked glory, albeit splattered with a good covering of mud. She kept trying to glance away, but the sight was arresting and before she knew it she was carefully examining every single inch of the now tethered girl.
'The pony girl was wearing a striking emerald-green collar, much thinner than Jenny's. Her blonde hair was elaborately plaited with green threads and the ends had been tucked neatly away. Her face sported a studded black leather bridle, one band of which circled her forehead and another two coming down from the forehead band, which, combined with her rubber bit, made an 'A' shape across he
r face. More studded leather straps reached down from her collar to encircle her breasts in a diamond shape and then ran down her navel to split in two, and these straps were fed through each side of her labia. A big, bushy, blonde tail protruded from her ass and Jenny was afraid she knew exactly how it was anchored. The leather straps ran around the tail and then straight up to wrap around her two cuffed hands which were folded neatly, one on top of the other. Her feet had been placed in ankle length, rubberised pony hooves. Jenny trembled. Was this what they meant to do to her? She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be bound in such an exposed, yet intricate manner and under the complete control of another. Unbelievably, the thought made her wet. She had to start reciting French vocabulary again, in order to tamp down her body's response.
'The sight arouses you, doesn't it?' asked Mark, whose eyes had carefully watched every single nuance on Jenny's face as she took in the shiny leather tack of the pony girl.
Jenny shook her head briskly in response.
'Liar.'
The nerve of the man, she thought, and gave another irritated shake of her head.
'You want me to prove it to you?' Mark's eyes lit up as he bent down and let his fingers trace a delicate path up Jenny's left inner thigh, which was already slightly sticky. Without warning he thrust two fingers easily into the core of her body and rocked them up and down. Pulling them out slowly he displayed them in front of her face, so his trainee could see and smell her own arousal on them. 'You're dripping wet. Case closed.' He wiped his sticky fingers clean by painting the word Liar on her back with them. He recited the letters one by one, knowing it would rile her.
Jenny trembled again, but this time due to ire. The man was insufferable. He was also mind-bogglingly handsome, clever, and had the most amazing finger prowess. It was he who was making her body perform strange sexual cartwheels, not this farcical pony set-up. It had to be. Liar, an inner voice wheedled, agreeing with Mark. Even her inner voice was on his side, it seemed.
'Calm down, Peaches,' said Daniel in a firm voice from the back of the room, and it was evident that the pony was getting a firm hand and a stiff brush.
Daniel had begun to use the curry comb, giving Peaches circular sweeps of the brush to loosen the mud and dirt that had become engrained on her skin. He paid particular attention to her buttocks, which had picked up more than their fair share of muck, and his free hand occasionally tweaked the leather straps between her legs. His pony threw back her head in evident enjoyment. He worked with an efficient, practised hand and it wasn't long before the stiff-bristled dandy brush was in his grasp. Working with firm flicks of his wrist, Peaches' body began to glow a light pink all over. Shaking her mane and neighing excitedly, it was clear she was revelling in his attention.
When the body brush came out, with its softer bristles and gentler motion, Peaches was a different pony and you could almost hear purring sounds. Her mane and tail were slowly combed to perfection and coated with a liberal misting of hairspray. It made her hair gleam. Daniel finished by using a small sponge to wipe her face clean and another for her groin area, dipping it frequently in a bucket of tepid water.
The whole process had taken about twenty minutes. Daniel appeared to be wearing the same uniform as Mark and, amazingly, hadn't managed to get a speck of dirt upon his white riding breeches or over his boots. A seasoned professional, it seemed. Jenny also noted, rather sourly, that here was yet another attractive male, this time with cropped red hair and cerulean blue eyes. He had a muscular, athletic build and an easy smile. It was all right for him, he had plenty to smile about, thought Jenny. Smiling was nigh on impossible for her, and a grimace would have been more appropriate in any case.
Thinking of facial expressions made her realise how much her jaw was beginning to ache, uncomfortably full with the rubber ball gag. It didn't taste particularly pleasant, either, but the worst thing was being unable to swallow. It meant she dribbled like a baby. As another line of dribble formed down her chin she shook her head madly to get rid of it, but the stubborn drool refused to budge. She eyed Mark's trousers thoughtfully.
'You even think of wiping that mess on me and I promise you won't be able to sit on your ass for at least a week,' he said threateningly and with menace. Mark knew exactly what the girl had been thinking. She got the message and quickly looked away. This trainee was easier to read than Goldilocks. Little did she know she'd be unable to sit down for a good deal more than a week, partly due to a lot of enthusiastic spanking or cropping, and partly due to the fact that she was a horse and horses didn't sit.
'Dungeon next on your list by any chance?' said Daniel, trying for an innocent smile and failing miserably.
'After a visit to the Red Room I think it might be appropriate,' he replied, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.
'Nice. I hope she likes all the colours that room has to offer,' Daniel replied, his smile reaching from ear to ear.
Jenny hadn't a clue what they were going on about. Red Room? Was the furniture red, or perhaps the walls? Nothing would surprise her at the moment. This place seemed to get stranger and stranger the longer she was here, which wouldn't be too much longer with any luck. Time couldn't go quickly enough in her opinion. Tomorrow morning would dawn soon enough, she supposed. For the time being she could toe the line, or the rope as it were.
The Red Room
Jenny found herself grumbling again. Her hair was dusting the floor. The ebony ends were picking up all manner of dirt and becoming a rather unpleasant shade of chalky-white. She spent a lot of time in the salon to keep her hair in tip-top condition and here she was crawling on it and rubbing it into the filthy concrete. While she was on the subject of woes, she had another one to add to the list. She had broken a nail. Her perfectly manicured, French-polished nails were now nine in number. It was unacceptable. She needed a shower, some food, a drink and, oh, some clothes would be nice! When did they stop playing ponies around here? What time was horsie-knock-off-go-and-get-some-rest time? Somewhere there was a hotel bed with her name on it and she dearly wanted the use of it.
When they neared the Red Room and Mark ushered her inside, Jenny found herself immediately disappointed. It didn't have a red door. It didn't have red walls and it didn't have red furniture. There wasn't even a red floor or a red pair of curtains in sight. The floor was, thankfully, made of wood once more and her burning knees said a prayer of thanks as they sank into the cold, varnished surface gratefully. She could feel tiny pebbles of concrete beginning to embed themselves in her skin and wondered when she'd be allowed back on two feet.
Looking around, she had to wonder why it had been called The Red Room. The paint was a boring shade of magnolia and the furniture, if it could be called that, was utilitarian steel. There were steel posts, steel frames complete with metal cuffs, steel blocks in varying sizes and a long steel table. They were obviously going for the 'wipe-clean' look, thought Jenny wryly. There were only two things of real interest in the room. One was that it was covered in mirrors. Some reached from floor to ceiling, some were framed and gilded exquisitely, others were plain or even mosaic in style. The overall effect was that the room fairly sparkled with light and colour. The second thing was a black, Murano glass chandelier, hanging in the middle of the room in massive splendour, dripping large, diamond-shaped crystals.
Mark watched as Jenny's face stared at the ceiling and appeared awe-struck. The Red Room had that effect on people. It was spectacular at night, as well as in daylight, when the mirrors caught the facets of the hundred or so gems that quivered in the slightest breeze. He knew she had no idea what the steel furniture was for and he also knew that in about twenty minutes his trainee would wish she'd never been born. He didn't feel sorry for her. Life was all about the journey and she was going to get a mind-blowing ride for the next few weeks.
Pulling a penknife out of his pocket, he flicked the blade and had to bite his tongue as she drew in a breath of fear, watching its reflection shimmer across the mult
itude of mirrored surfaces.
'There's no point in me saying I'm not going to hurt you, because in a few minutes, believe me I am. If there's one thing in pony-land you can count on, it's the fact that I never lie.' He watched her carefully. He wanted to see her reaction. She didn't move, she didn't lower her eyes and, interestingly, she didn't make a sound. Was she planning to fight him? That would be a first. 'Relax; you can breathe easy for now. The knife will be used to cut your ropes, nothing more.'
Jenny's breath was coming in shallow gasps and her fear was palpable, but when faced with the fight-or-flight response, she would have fought. Tied and crippled as she was, she would have gone down all guns blazing. It was an insane thought. He was bigger, had a knife and, most importantly, had proper use of all of his limbs. Before she had a chance to examine her thoughts further, the knife began to cut a rapid path through the mountain of rope that covered her. Strand by strand and thread by thread, the thick rope was severed. It scattered over the wooden floor below her in a sea of worm-like ribbons. When it finally unravelled to reveal the skin of her knees and elbows, Jenny found herself gasping. The rope had scorched her delicate skin. What was once silky-smooth and milky-white was now fiery red, grazed and inflamed. With her skin wrecked in such a fashion, she wouldn't be able to go out clubbing for weeks. Long-sleeved tops and trousers would be her new wardrobe for the foreseeable future. She managed to push the lid back on her temper, but it was simmering and bubbling dangerously. Horsie-land was becoming all a little bit too much for her.
Mark worked efficiently but carefully and the penknife did not once touch her skin. In a matter of seconds she was free. He also released the collar from her neck, giving her a chance to flex her muscles for a few minutes, knowing she would be stiff and sore. They were on an even playing field now and at this stage in the game they needed that, if only for a few seconds. Judging by the earlier look she was after payback, and it was time for her to find out who was boss.
Learning the Ropes: Discovering life as a pony girl... (Pony Tales Book 2) Page 2