Hot to Trot: Transformed into a submissive pony girl... (Pony Tales Book 3)

by C. P. Mandara

  Prepared for Pony Play

  Having been mostly comatose for the past half hour, Jenny was hard to rouse from her slumber. Mark trying to prise her backside from the huge plug she'd been impaled upon got her attention, though. What was the bastard up to now? Weak with fatigue, she couldn't even move her tongue to swear at him. She was even, incredibly, too tired to grumble about today's interesting experiences. There was only one thing Jenny knew for certain: if the man thought he was sticking his cock anywhere near her mouth ever again, she'd bite it off. The surfeit of orgasms had taken their toll. Having thought orgasm denial the most terrible form of torture in the western world, Mark had proved the theory wrong. Being made to continuously orgasm, again and again and again, was not only a damn site more painful, it was exhausting as well.

  'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left.'

  He left for two minutes. He shouldn't have come back, she thought caustically. His voice sounded genuinely apologetic, but it was too little, too late. He shouldn't even bother with the excuses. She hated him. She loathed him. She wouldn't fuck him if he were the last man on earth and the survival of the human race depended on her because she would make sure there was at least twelve thousand miles between them at all times. She wouldn't fuck him for £100,000,000 and she wouldn't even fuck him for ten pairs of M. Christian Louboutin's finest creations. That's how much she hated him.

  He held another packet of the awful tasting energy gel to her lips. She drank it. Her lips had cracked after the past hour's exertions, her mouth was so dry she couldn't speak and any form of liquid was desperately welcome; even if it was delivered by a brutish beast.

  'I'll get you cleaned up and then all you've got to face is a little pampering session before you can get some rest. I won't let the bastard near you again, I promise.' He removed her collar and pressed a damp washcloth to her face.

  Sleep was tugging at her and his words slurred insensibly in her brain. Had she heard that right? Did the man have a Jekyll and Hyde complex to add to all of his other wondrous proclivities? Her eyes slithered shut before she had the chance to contemplate her tormentor further.

  Unbelievably, even her dreams were sexual in nature. It seemed there was no escape from the debauched wonderland she had found herself in, where comforting warm water lapped at her body in soft ripples of movement and a thousand adept fingers began to stroke every inch of her body. They explored every contour she possessed with delicate precision, soothing her injured flesh. The feeling was sublime. In the land of the living Jenny felt sure her body wouldn't be able to suffer another orgasm, but in the depths of her slumbering subconscious her libido was revving itself up and would soon be good to go. Her hair was soaking wet, it was being massaged with the most decadent smelling shampoo, and it smelt so good she wanted to lick the bubbly concoction off the many fingers surrounding her. There was soft music in the background and gentle whispers all around her and it just added to the calming atmosphere, until she listened more attentively and found out exactly what they were talking about...

  'She's gorgeous.'

  'Can we watch her explode? Do ya think she's a screamer?'

  'I could lap at that pussy till she'd produced enough cream for a doughnut,' giggled another, and tiny fingers rolled her clitoris around to affirm the point.

  'Uh-uh-uh, you know we've been told there are to be no O's.' A stern voice and a clucking tongue.

  'Look how she squirms, so cute,' a young voice said, full of mischief.

  Although Jenny's eyes felt as if they'd been stuck together with glue, eventually she managed to lift the leaden weights of her eyelids upwards.

  It wasn't a dream. She groaned to herself. How many times had she thought that particular thought today? Just breathe, she told herself, and find out what she could, while keeping her eyes firmly shut. They couldn't do too much damage to her, if they thought she was in the land of nod. A quick flutter of her eyelashes revealed she was surrounded by young women, about ten in total. So she'd been a little overzealous with the thousand fingers comment. The women were dressed. A few in sundresses and some in jeans or shorts, but they were all petite and had fantastic figures. Another flutter of her lashes revealed she was in a bath, a transparent perspex bath, placed in front of a floor length window and on display to a rather large gathering outside. What the...? Jenny immediately tried to cover up her important parts, primarily her crotch and her breasts, but her arms wouldn't cooperate. Now her act of pretence was over, she looked over her head to discover her hands had been cuffed to a pair of shiny brass bath taps. What were these insane people doing to her? Rattling the chains madly and thankful for the lack of a gag, she began screaming the place down.

  One of the women, a brunette dressed in a white shirt and shorts, solved the sound problem by pushing Jenny's head down into the deep water of the bath. Submerged for what felt like an hour, when she came to the surface again, spluttering and spitting, she didn't make a noise when the lady placed one finger over her lips. Was there anybody in this place who didn't play nasty, Jenny thought, tipping her head at right angles to clear the water from her ears.

  'You can't talk or you'll get us in trouble,' said the brunette. 'Ponies must never speak. You can neigh or whinny, but you mustn't use your voice. Do you understand?' She pressed her lips together in a tight line.

  Jenny nodded. She was not three and she spoke English, thank you very much. Lose the patronising tone, lady, she thought.

  'Are you feeling a bit sore?'

  This time a shake of her head, because bizarrely she was feeling pretty good.

  'While you were out cold the vet came and fitted your IUD. She figured it would be kinder that way, as it can be a painful procedure. It's a contraceptive device that's fitted inside your uterus. You're going to be having lots and lots of sex during your stay here and it's one of the quickest and most reliable methods to ensure you don't get pregnant. You'll probably be sore for a day or two but she gave you a shot of some fast acting painkillers, so you should be all right for the next few hours or so.'

  Jenny felt another scream bursting inside her, waiting to break free. How dare they? This was her body. These should be her decisions. What were they going to do the next time she took a nap? Give her double-G breast implants? She wouldn't put it past them. The brunette must have seen her horrified look, but mistook the meaning behind it.

  'Don't worry, everyone who works or visits Albrecht has been tested for sexually transmitted diseases, including yourself. There is no risk of contracting anything nasty.'

  What, what, what? She'd had a blood test? When? The only blood she'd had taken recently had been at her yearly medical a month ago and if that was the case that would mean... Jenny refused to consider the possibility. If it were true, she was here to stay and if she was here to stay, her eyes widened. She was not going to think about it. Her body began to tremble. Mark's earlier words, 'This isn't somewhere you end up by chance', rang in her head.

  Her train of thought was swiftly lost as the fingers continued their quest of exploration. Light tugs at her pubic hair, a soft stroke upon her labia, a tweak of a nipple and a gentle circle around the bruised circumference of her sphincter. It made her jump. The whispers continued.

  'Her Dom's been a little bit rough,' said one.

  No kidding, thought Jenny darkly.

  'So responsive, though. Look how her areola darkens the more excited she gets.'

  'She's really wet.'

  'That's cos she's in a bathtub, stupid.'

  'No, wet, wet. Down here.'

  Jenny squeaked as two fingers inserted themselves into her pussy and wiggled about for good measure.

  'Does she do girls?'

  She did not do girls, thought Jenny, narrowing her eyes. But she couldn't keep them narrowed for long. The fingers were now everywhere at once. They teased her breasts; kneading, cupping, stroking and giving her nipples little pinches with the tips of their fingernails. Some traced the outline of her ribcage, others dipped insid
e her mouth and trailed a wet path across the shell of her ear. Like inquisitive tentacles they curled and coiled around her body. Jenny began her newly popular, heavy breathing routine. Please don't make her come again, she thought desperately. She had almost forgotten about her audience outside, but risking a quick look, saw that the gathering had increased in size. Oh no, no, no.

  'If she doesn't she soon will and she'll enjoy it.' A snigger.

  'Ladies, we've got things to do,' said the brunette, and by the looks of her she meant business.

  The fingers stopped and there were a few huffs of disappointment. One of them was Jenny's. This orgasm thing was a tricky business. One minute you didn't want them, next minute you did.

  A sweet smelling lotion was rubbed onto both of Jenny's cuffed hands and massaged particularly carefully into her nails and cuticles. Then the familiar smell of acetone wafted through the room. Were they going to give her a manicure? It was official; Jenny had just stepped off the edge of the earth and was diving into the twilight zone.

  Seeing her puzzled look one of the younger ones took pity on her. 'Short fingernails and no polish, I'm afraid. You're a pony. Pity, because you've got a beautiful set of French manicured beauties here. Have them done this morning?'

  Jenny nodded and observed, with her stomach churning sickeningly, as the effects of her two hour luxury manicure were wiped away in an instant. Her toes were being given the same treatment. When the clippers came out it was just as well she couldn't see what they were doing, because she wouldn't have been able to watch the damage being inflicted upon them. They would take weeks to regrow. One by one the nails fell to the floor and the resulting rough edges were filed neatly. She was left with short, unattractive stubs and her friends would wonder if she'd taken to biting them. They looked disgusting.

  One of the older ladies was behind her, sat on a wooden chair, and was combing the tangled knots from her wet hair. It almost distracted her from the massacred nail saga, which was nearly complete.

  'We're going to dry and cut your mane next. You're lucky. Some ponies have their heads shaved and the hair is used to make their tale so they'll have a perfect colour match. Wasn't that what happened to you, Sugar?' The younger girl turned to the middle-aged lady with the comb and raised an eyebrow.

  Sugar shuddered and mumbled, 'Sure was, Poppy, and I wouldn't recommend it. I was trained in winter and ponies don't get to wear hats.'

  At Jenny's distraught expression Poppy quickly continued. 'Don't worry, in your case we've just been instructed to crop it close. As it's quite long they should be able to make your tail without the need to lop it all off.'

  Another young girl snickered. 'But she won't be so lucky in other areas.'

  'Sandy, mind your tongue. We've all been there and I'm pretty sure you didn't think much of it at the time,' said the brunette. Sandy looked duly chastened and cast her eyes downward. There was an awkward silence in the room. Poppy fiddled with her black and yellow polkadot sundress.

  Jenny, meanwhile, was fuming. There was no way anyone was touching her hair. It had always been long. Men liked it that way. She liked it that way. Rattling her cuffed hands furiously and shaking her head she knocked the comb out of Sugar's hand. The brunette gestured a downward movement in Jenny's direction and the commotion stopped. A dunking was not going to help matters, she thought, but her hair! They couldn't cut her hair. It was the final straw. The first few tears began to escape and then the floodgates opened. She just managed to remember her audience outside, who would obviously be revelling in her downfall, and with a choked sniffle, tried to stem the outpouring. She couldn't look at anyone. Not the cold people avidly gawping at the window, or the ex-ponies who were her newest oppressors.

  But when the hairdryer buzzed to life Jenny had nearly gotten herself together. She was a Redcliff. It was only hair. It would grow back.

  The first snick of the scissors was an awful moment, though. Conscious of her audience, knowing they'd love nothing more than a good show, she fought back and managed to find the stopcock to her internal waterworks. Her stomach churned, bitter bile simmered in her throat and a feeling of complete helplessness drove despair into each and every pore of her being. Was she here for good? There was no way she could be trapped in this alternate universe. She would go insane. Was this how convicts felt, the first night behind bars? It was an interesting parallel. The scissors continued their journey with incessant little cuts that left hair flying everywhere. It was all she could do to prevent herself from vomiting in the bathtub. By a long margin, this was the worst stunt they had pulled on her so far.

  After an eternity the scissors stopped and the back of her hair was finished with a pair of clippers. There was no mirror in the room, so Jenny had no idea of the abomination they had created. It was probably just as well, because the tears would start then.

  'She's going to need cheering up,' said Sugar, breaking the silence the noise of the hairdryer had left.

  The brunette reached into the tub and pulled out the plug. The water gurgled away.

  'What say we give her the itinerary for tomorrow, MG?' said Poppy Polkadots.

  MG rolled her eyes. 'Poppy,' she said, in a slightly condescending tone, 'I don't think our little friend is here of her own free will. She might appreciate it more if you kept quiet.'

  'She didn't ask to come here?' Poppy was taken aback. 'Does that happen?'

  'Yes,' chorused three of the ten ladies.

  People ask to come here? Were these people nuts? Jenny rolled those thoughts around in her head whilst trying to decide what MG stood for.

  'Oh.'

  Jenny noticed that Polkadots looked rather crestfallen with this information, and one of the others took pity on her.

  'It would still do her good to know what's in store tomorrow. Go ahead, Poppy.'

  No, she did not want to hear this. She did not need to hear this. She would be rescued first thing in the morning and that was the end of the discussion. She concentrated on her acronym. Manager, perhaps?

  'Well, when you wake up you'll be introduced to your groom.' Poppy smiled. 'Mine was gorgeous. After you've had some breakfast, they usually give you a good rub down and fit your tack for the day's activities. Their foremost job is to make sure your body is on the cusp of orgasm and begging for relief before you've left the stable doors. It's nipples erect, mouth swollen, ass plugged and pussy wet or you get to spend the day indoors. Let's just say you don't want to spend too much time indoors. They're allowed certain privileges,' she winked at the other ladies in the room, who laughed, 'and I'm sure you'll discover what they are soon enough. In your case, you'll have your fitting first thing, as your tack hasn't arrived yet.'

  Jenny was thinking that MG could be Magnesium, but it wasn't the greatest of pony names by any standards. Her brow creased in concentration.

  'After you've been fitted you'll be put out to pasture and allowed to join in some activities with all the other ponies. It won't be anything too challenging, because your next session is usually in the exercise yard, if it's a nice day, and sometimes if it isn't. You've gotta love mud.' Poppy's eyes lit up at the thought of her hooves sinking into wet, sucking mud. She loved getting good and dirty. 'You'll find your rubber hoof boots take some getting used to, but the trainers will go easy on you at first.'

  Some people liked mud, some people liked shoe shopping; horses for courses and all that. Jenny was personally for the get out of stables free card and she did not want to pass go. Ah, how about Mongolia? Hmm, it wasn't very feminine.

  'After the exercise yard you'll probably have a class in the training room. Oral skills, anal skills, deportment, voice coaching... They often pair you up with another pony and you can practise together, so you can help each other master the skill. I love it when I'm paired with a pony-boy.' Poppy's voice had gone rather husky.

  Jenny was only listening with one ear, but she did hear the words 'voice coaching'. That sounded like a fun session. From what she had gathered so far there w
as to be no talking, so did that mean they sat around in silence for an hour? These ponies sure knew how to have a good time. Aha, Magnolia, now there was a name that was feminine and flowery.

  'Poppy, that's enough of that. Let's get on with the job in hand.'

  Towels descended on Jenny and the fingers got to work drying every inch of her body. The towels, soft as butter and scented with lavender, rubbed and vied for entry at every crease and cleft they could find. With ten pairs of hands upon her she was dry and sweet-smelling in seconds. It was more luxury than she had expected, but she wasn't complaining.

  'This is the last time you'll see a bath in Albrecht, so we try to make it as special as possible,' explained Sugar.

  Great. Well, they could hold off on the cleaning then, because Jenny had seen more than her fair share of hosepipes today. A foul mood began to descend upon her. Now that the adrenaline of Mark's constant presence had slowly ebbed from her body she was beginning to feel a rather strange ache. She wasn't even sure if she was pleased to see the back of him or not. Oh good grief, put her down for a case of Stockholm Syndrome, why don't you? Of course she was pleased. After the afternoon's activities she could do with spending a week in bed. The man was a vicious sadist.

  The crowd at the window had thinned somewhat, when they realised there were to be no tears, but there was still quite a number of spectators when the fingers came down upon her pussy and legs, opening her wide.

  'What are you doing?' Jenny hissed out the words, having forgotten herself. When she was given a dark look by MG she pressed her lips together as an indication that she was sorry and would not repeat the mistake. Thankfully there was no bathwater left.

  'Ponies are not allowed hair anywhere except on their heads and in their tails. We'll wax and shave your pussy and apply a long-lasting laser treatment which will help prevent hair regrowth.'