HOT TO TROT
by
C. P. MANDARA
steamestuff.com
New authors are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.
Hot to Trot published in 2013 by Steam eStuff.
This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright C. P. Mandara. The right of C. P. Mandara to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.
Acknowledgments
I would like to say a big thank you to the man behind the website at www.cpony.com. If I need to research any aspect of pony play, cpony is always my first port of call. I love the attention to detail and appreciate the lengthy and in-depth descriptions that answer all of my many questions.
Another big thank you to all involved with the making of this series. Whether you've read it, edited it, designed the cover, reviewed it or promoted it - you've done a wonderful job.
'How blessed am I in this discovering thee
To enter in these bonds is to be free.'
John Donne
Prologue
Dear Mr Redcliff,
As requested, I am providing you with a snapshot of the morning's activities.
Unfortunately your daughter arrived three hours late, which was expected, and offered some initial resistance in our measuring session. She did, nevertheless, find the experience arousing on more than one occasion.
Mark Matthews volunteered to be her first instructor with no need for coercion on my part, so that should fall in with your plans nicely.
Thus far, Miss Redcliff has received a thorough thrashing at the hands of Matthews and participated in a punishment session at the pillory block with the villagers. She appears to find a touch of humiliation particularly arousing.
Your missing credit card will be returned immediately via courier and I will keep you updated of her progress in due course.
Yours Sincerely,
Isabelle du Fontenay.
Senior Executive - Albrecht Stables.
Hungry
Jenny didn't think much of mud. It squelched under her knees, got between her toes and became stuck under her beautifully long fingernails. Make that some of her beautifully long nails, as she'd already managed to lose one so far today, with Mr Nasty's rough handling, and wouldn't be at all surprised if another one followed suit. The mud, however, was the least of her concerns.
'How does that plug feel?' said Mark, giving it a poke with his ever-ready crop as she crawled along on all fours beside him.
Jenny didn't dignify his comment with a response. He knew damn well she couldn't speak as he'd fitted her bridle and bit himself. Answering the question for her own benefit alone, Jenny decided the plug felt horrible. Yes, horrible, but if she was being completely honest, it also felt deliciously wicked at the same time. The full feeling that the plug provided was rather uncomfortable as she moved along, but as it twisted and jiggled inside her it made her pussy clench. The metal hook running over her clit rubbed with each forward motion she made and combined, they made her want to run to the nearest tree and rub herself silly around it. She needed an orgasm. No, that wasn't quite right. She desperately needed an orgasm. Spartacus was well aware of the fact, and he just added to her level of arousal with each stride forward of his glossy black riding boots. She was not going to watch his delectable backside bounce up and down. Much. Even if it was pert, firm and curved in all the right places.
A loud gurgling noise had her falling out of cloud cuckoo land with a bump. Where had that come from? Trying to twist her neck awkwardly from side to side, hampered by her large white collar, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard it again. It was her stomach protesting the fact that she had missed lunch! How embarrassing. On second thoughts - not so embarrassing, considering she was naked, being led around on all fours by a leash, had a ridiculous harness of leather straps and metal hooks and a butt plug embedded deep in her ass. Gurgling noises were nothing when compared to the above. Returning her head forward, she continued as if nothing had happened.
'Hungry?'
The oracle hadn't lost his touch then. Of course she was hungry; breakfast had been hours ago.
'Don't worry, there's a lovely nutritious snack just around the corner for you. We wouldn't want any more fainting episodes, now would we? Think of all the fun you might miss.'
Ignoring the last comment, Jenny decided a snack would be good, even if it was of the healthy variety. She'd had enough of this crawling lark and the thought of a chicken Caesar salad was beginning to make her mouth water. Hopefully it would come with a glass of dry white wine, Chablis or Sancerre being her preferred tipple. She couldn't wait to get back to the hotel, cleaned up and into some soft, silky clothes that wouldn't aggravate any of the many rope burns she'd managed to acquire. Somewhere, in one of her eight valises, there would be something appropriate. She always had a change of clothes for every occasion. As soon as her bit was removed, Jenny fully intended to straighten out this mess and make sure that all of her antagonists were amply rewarded. Dusty and Legend were high on her hit list, but Mr Nasty was really going to get it. There was food for thought. How would she get even? It would certainly involve rope - lots of nice, thick rope.
'Here we are, chow down.' Mark gave an expansive sweep of his hand.
Well, that put an abrupt end to her daydream. Here we are? Where was the hotel? Jenny once again swung her head awkwardly from side to side and saw nothing bar a rusty old tin shed in front of her. Were they dining on corrugated iron, perchance?
Seeing her puzzled look, Mark pointed to two stone troughs at the bottom of the shed. 'Water's in the one on the left and food is in the other.'
Jenny's head swung back to the shed in horror and as her gaze dipped lower, sure enough, there were two stone troughs in front of her. He had got to be kidding! She was supposed to drink and eat from those? Had they not heard of health and safety here?
'I'll let you keep your bridle on for now. Drinking is a bit of an art form and you'll need the practise because you won't be given much time for refreshments when out in the field. We live a simple life here at Albrecht and you'll find that reflected in the food. It may be a little bland for your tastes, though.' His grin was ear-splitting.
Out of sheer curiosity, she crawled closer to the troughs. As he'd indicated, one was filled to the brim with water but it was the contents of the other that concerned her. It certainly wasn't a Caesar salad. In Jenny's opinion it couldn't even be called a meal; more what she would term 'rabbit food'. There were a few slices of apple, some carrots, beans, sweet corn and a sprinkling of peanuts. The vegetables and fruit had been cut up, but not peeled, and the whole mixture had been softly mashed together. She backed away rapidly and shook her head. There was no way she was eating that revolting sludge.
'I knew you'd be eager to start your anal indu
ction,' said Mark, trying for a serious look and almost succeeding. 'Let's hurry back to the training room, shall we?'
Jenny found herself between a rock and very hard, stone trough. She wasn't at all eager to go back to the training room and any delaying tactics she might employ to slow that event down were welcome. There was a slim chance she might even be rescued. Someone must have realised there had been a mistake by now, surely? Mark pulled at her leash. Growling beneath her breath she gingerly dipped her head forward towards the water.
It took all of three seconds for her to realise there would be no elegant way of completing the task. Half of her face would have to be submerged in order to drink and her hair was going to get a good dousing. It was still pretty soggy from the hose episode, so at least she had little to lose on that front.
'Come on, we've got things to do, people to see...' Mark put the tip of his boot to her backside and pressed it firmly forward. There was a shocked gasp and then a splash as Jenny's face hit the contents of the drinking trough. Spluttering and cursing she inhaled a good portion of the water, before realising he meant to keep his boot upon her ass until she complied. Poking her tongue out from under the bit she made a noisy show of lapping at it, and then promptly choked as she hadn't counted on how difficult swallowing would be. Mark's boot didn't appear to be going anywhere soon, so she thought, rather sourly, that there was plenty of time to practise. It took a while to get the hang of it. The bit between her teeth hampered swallowing, so she had to make a concentrated, forced gulp each time she wanted to drink. The main problem was remembering not to breathe through your nose, which was underwater. Thirsty though she was, water would have been her last choice of beverage. Who would willingly drink the stuff? There was no taste and more importantly, there was no alcohol inside it.
After drinking more than her fair share Mark's boot finally detached itself from her rear. He began unbuckling her bridle.
'Eat.'
Oh, no. Anything but that. Jenny gave a small shake of her head.
'Now, or I'll provide you with some assistance, and believe me when I say you won't like it.' Mark gave her a black stare, flexed his fingers, heard his knuckles crack, and before he had time to blink her head had dived for the cover of the second trough. What a shame. He was itching to spank that backside, especially since the red glow of his earlier flogging had just begun to fade from her beautiful, porcelain-white flesh. Then his eyes caught hers and saw the fear spiralling through them.
Jenny's lips hovered an inch or so above the mushy vegetable slop in panic. Why couldn't she defy the man towering above her? As soon as he gave her that dark look her legs had begun to wobble and she rushed to obey. Thoughts of his fingers entwining themselves around her neck and applying crushing force had rushed back to haunt her with startling clarity, and even with that fresh in her mind she still couldn't travel the last inch into the sticky goo below her.
Mark was frowning. From the speed with which she'd rushed to obey you'd think he was a cross between the Marquis de Sade and an axe-wielding murderer. The Marquis de Sade he could live with, but the utter terror in her eyes had him feeling uncomfortable. He knew she was reliving the breath play incident. Admittedly he'd wanted her to be scared of him, but not for the wrong reasons. Damn it, where were these feelings of guilt coming from? He'd pulled off countless similar moves, at least as bad if not worse to other pony-girls and not once had he any twinges of conscience. Time to snap out of it, Matthews, he berated himself.
It wasn't the food that bothered Jenny. She'd eaten worse when dieting. Cabbage soup, high protein, baby food, detox; you name it, she'd tried them all. So while the gloop looked particularly unappetising, it wasn't what was holding her back. The problem was the way she was going to have to eat it and the resulting mess, which would be everywhere.
'You really should embrace this new lifestyle,' he said, shaking his head at her reticence. 'You're going to get plenty of exercise, lots of fresh air and so much vitamin C that the common cold will take one look at you before running screaming into someone else's hankie. I have a feeling I know what's bothering you though, so let's take care of that first.' Having said that, he picked up a handful of the slushy food and smeared it into her face. There was a moment of shocked silence. Then recovering her wits, his trainee let out an impressive roar.
'I hate you!' Jenny screamed, shaking her head this way and that as gunk dripped from it. Her eyes blazed and she meant every word. How dare the man? She had bits of food stuck to her cheeks, chin and lips. Some of the mixture had even made its way up her nose. It was disgusting - absolutely, totally and utterly revolting.
'I know.'
She practically shook with rage. 'When I get free of this place, Mark whoever-you-might-be, I am going to get even. I am going to hunt you down and seek revenge in the most nasty, evil and sadistic way possible.' The whole sentence was ruined somewhat, as a piece of sweet corn chose that moment to fall from the tip of her nose.
Mark couldn't help but smile, although he knew it would goad her further. She just looked too comical, standing there haughtier-than-though and smothered in Albrecht's finest horse feed. She was certainly much more fun to play with in this frenzied state of agitation, so he thought he'd pull her chain, figuratively speaking. Oh, this was going to be good. Raising an eyebrow he asked, 'And just how would you plan on evening up the score, little filly?' He'd be impressed if she could come up with a scenario for him which was more daring than being tied to a four-poster bed with silk scarves and being spanked silly.
Jenny looked up at him from behind her long black eyelashes, which were still heavily laden with mascara, and contemplated the stupidity of continuing this conversation. There would be only one loser resulting from its aftermath and it wouldn't be him. Pursing her lips together and vowing to keep silent, she nearly erupted when he laughed out loud at her.
'Can't talk the talk? And here I thought you were a regular Miss Chatterbox. You're hardly worthy to be called a Redcliff. Come on and eat up quickly before my crop-hand gets overexcited.' His thumb lightly brushed the bruise on her neck.
Jenny decided that the gentle caress of his fingers on that particular spot could be likened to multiple calls in the same day from a very persistent double-glazing salesman: infuriating. Unfortunately, she had no tall tales to tell. What did she know about ropes and crops? The answer was virtually nothing. She'd once had someone use a pair of handcuffs on her, but that was about it. She frantically racked her brains for some perverted nastiness, but not a thing came to mind.
'You really want to hear this?' she asked in her most condescending voice, still facing the trough with her back to him. It was all bravado. Her mind was a complete blank.
'Gimme all you got, baby.' His smirk would have been reply enough, though she couldn't see it.
Turning her head around sharply she glared at him, narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth slowly to speak. Something would come to her; hopefully something ghastly, cruel and unpleasant.
'Let me see. For starters, I think I'd drug you with something quick and fast-acting like Pentothal. You'd be on the floor in a few seconds, in a delicious heap of unconsciousness, but you wouldn't stay that way for long. That means I'd need some strong, burly helpers, as you're a beautifully big guy in all the right places. Hmm, let's see... you'd be rigged up via a pulley system on either side of a large open window, with thick hemp rope. Your body would be angled and tensioned so that it jutted forward. The open window would be at least ten storeys high above the ground, and my preference would be for around twenty. You'd also be stripped naked and on full view to the general public, should they wish to glance up and admire you, which any sane female would - and probably the odd male as well. I would cut the first strand of rope on either side of the pulley, which means you would have to stay very still and not struggle or nod off. The consequences of movement, of course, would be that the rope would eventually fray and sever, and you would fall rather messily to the road below. That shoul
d be enough to incentivise your cooperation. Because of the tension you'd need to stand on tiptoes to ease the pressure on your body. I think I'd add coils of rope around your neck, too, tensioned to your outstretched arms, so you could not move an inch without choking yourself. You'd be the perfect mannequin. Then, darling, I would employ the piece de resistance. You would be masturbated to the point of climax, without release, every half an hour, and you would have absolutely no idea as to the owners of the hands that clamped around your cock, for I would make sure they would change frequently. In case you were wondering, they would include both men and women. To ensure no accidental release your cock would be fitted with a solid penis plug, inserted into your urethra. You'd also be wearing a cock ring, to make sure your penis stood proud and to attention at all times and if you appeared to be flagging, encouragement would be provided in the form of a crop, paddle or flogger. The crop would be applied to your buttocks, thighs and back. Perhaps even the soles of your feet if I was feeling particularly nasty.'
The words spoken were breathy, sexy and seductive. The voice that uttered them practically purred, but they did not come from Jenny's mouth. Her jaw was wide open in shock because from behind the shed a svelte blonde appeared, covered from head to toe in skin-tight leather. She was wearing carmine red lipstick and nail polish, with the stilettos on her feet matching the dramatic colour scheme. There was a large V in the bodice of her leather jacket and it displayed a lot of wonderfully rounded, tanned flesh. The woman must have been six foot tall, and to say she was stunningly beautiful would have been the understatement of the century.
'Thank you for that very entertaining interlude, Mistress Katrina. Haven't you got work to do? I left you a sweet, juicy little pony with which to do your worst in the dungeon. Be a good sport and sort her out for me. We'll discuss the day you get to tie me up, right about the same time that hell freezes over, time starts spinning backwards and the universe implodes, all simultaneously. Besides, we all know you've been longing to feel my boot up your ass for the last year or so, and you only have to beg me sweetly once. I know the first time's hard, baby, but I promise to make it worth your while.' Mark blew her a kiss from the tips of his fingers.
Hot to Trot: Transformed into a submissive pony girl... (Pony Tales Book 3) Page 1