Jenny wanted to slap a hand to her forehead, but that was going to prove rather tricky. Instead she just smiled weakly. At least in the morning, when she was out of here, the contents of her panties would remain confidential. This treatment had better not prevent hair regrowth permanently. She would sue. On second thoughts, she would not sue. She could just imagine the fun the tabloid press would have with that snippet of information: Wealthy Heiress Signs up for Horseplay and Hair-Free Rides.
The fingers were busy. They pushed her knees up to her breasts and opened her legs this way and that, so the wax strips could be applied and pulled. Jenny winced but it didn't really hurt; she'd had this kind of treatment one too many times before at the salon. When slippery foam was worked into her pubic hair and the razor came down upon the soft folds of her flesh Jenny held her breath. The sensation was wickedly pleasurable. Here were ladies who knew exactly what they were doing and had probably done this sort of thing hundreds of times before. Foam-clad digits teased her clit, brushing, stroking and pressing the sensitive organ until their subject squirmed in heat. But the fingers were too many in number to contain themselves to one particular area. Her breasts were fondled and teased until they became snowy mountains of perfumed lather. Soft foamy peaks formed at her nipples as the froth was gently worked around and around, up and down. The more adventurous of the group circled the entrance to her rear and pushed gently for entry. A groan escaped. The heat inside Jenny's body was rising. Little flicks and slow scrapes of the razor were beginning to drive her crazy. What was it going to look like down there when they'd finished? It would take her nakedness to a new level, bereft of even the lightest covering of hair. Would she be all pink and wrinkled? Not that she'd get a chance to look at herself; when they put that bloody awful collar back on her looking down would not be an option.
The fingers squirmed inside her. They wriggled and writhed and invited others to join them. They pinched and plucked, they rubbed and took bold little steps all over her body. She began panting. Making gurgling noises, Jenny decided her internal heat rating would probably break a mercury thermometer. Go fingers. Go, go, go!
'That's enough, ladies. She's had enough exertion for one day.' MG had spoken.
No, she had not had enough exertion for one day, thought Jenny, suffering as her pussy clenched and her clit pulsed. Biting her lip painfully, she mentally pleaded with them. Just one more session, please? As that received no response she opened her mouth to whine out loud, but the bit was immediately inserted between her lips, before the bridle was refastened around her head.
'The next part can be a little painful, so at least you've got something to bite on now.' MG turned around and directed her next sentence at Poppy. 'Be a dear and remove her makeup; there's a box of wipes over there.' Polkadots rushed to obey and started by removing the remains of Jenny's mascara.
'Ponies aren't allowed to wear makeup,' she whispered in her ear as she took delicate swipes with her tissue.
The ladies began a hair removal tour that would encompass the whole of their subject's body bar her head. Jenny was more concerned about the removal of her makeup than her hair. She was never seen out in public without having her face made up. No makeup meant no foundation, no lipstick, no gloss, no eyeliner and no mascara. She would look awful. No cover-up for bags under the eyes, either. While having a very personal panic attack, she barely noticed as two of the ladies began working contraptions all over her legs and firing little pinpricks of energy from them. When they reached her underarms things started to get a little uncomfortable and she was momentarily distracted from her inward ranting and raving. As the contraption moved lower things started to get really unpleasant. She could only be grateful that they worked in an efficient manner and took care of business quickly. Giving her a quick towel-down once more, to remove the foam residue, her handcuffs were released and she was helped out of the bath. She felt unsteady on her feet. The ladies lifted her arms up and paraded her forward to the group of onlookers at the window, who applauded. MG whispered in her ear.
'Press your body against the glass, there's a good pony. Let them see what beautiful charms you possess and what they can look forward to, if they're given half a chance to use you later in the week.'
MG might as well have said, 'You'll be propelled forward by ten pairs of hands and then those ten people will put all their weight upon you until you smear yourself in the window for everyone's amusement. Jenny focused on her breath fogging up the glass. She'd been naked all day and now she was a little more naked. Yes, she felt exposed and vulnerable, but at least she was behind the glass. When one young male onlooker, not much older than her, decided to kneel before it and run his tongue up the vision of the inside of her leg and then upwards towards her pussy, she shuddered. The invisible wall, which had been her saviour, was now her enemy. The crowd laughed in a raucous manner and the lad was awarded several pats on the back for his little stunt. Then there was a sharp knock on the door and the fun abruptly ended.
Although no one entered the room, Jenny was made to go down on all fours again.
'Tired?'
Jenny nodded at MG. She was utterly exhausted.
'You'll be pleased to know you're finished for the day,' she smiled. 'There's just one last thing we need to do.'
A little titter worked its way around the room. This did not sound good.
'All trainees on their first night with us need to obey one special rule: there are to be no unauthorised orgasms in the stables.'
Stables? The woman had obviously meant hotel.
'If you break this rule you will be sent back to the tack room after your first day's training and fitted with a special little gadget which will make you wish you'd never been born. So beware, you have been warned.' MG gave Jenny one of her sternest looks. It was almost scary, but after having had the pleasure of Mark's dark looks for most of the day, it didn't affect her in an overly adverse manner.
When Jenny saw a flash of gold in MG's hands, she immediately thought of her locket. It had been a much treasured present from her mother and had sentimental value. Her thoughts immediately flittered back to the last time she had worn it, in a manner of speaking, and the villagers who had tormented her. What were the chances of it being returned to her? Looking upwards to study the gold item further, she was disappointed when a small, gold, filigree egg came into view. It was exceedingly pretty, in a Fabergé kind of way, but not really appropriate for a pony. The only place she'd be able to wear it was on a chain around her neck and it appeared too big for that. It wouldn't work with her posture collar, either, which she noticed was waiting for her on a padded bench beside the door.
'This has a single effervescent tablet inside it,' said MG, shaking the egg, and the resulting rattle confirmed her words. 'On contact with water or fluids the tablet will dissolve.'
MG was rewarded for her troubles with a blank look. What was she trying to tell Jenny; her jewellery wasn't bath-friendly? Jenny gave her a small smile which said, I haven't a clue where you're going with this, but as I'm not going anywhere, please continue...
The egg was thrown into the air and caught expertly by Poppy, standing beside Jenny's flank.
'She's not quite figured this one out, Poppy dear, so give her a helping hand, will you?'
MG mumbled something about rich kids, lots of schooling and commonsense. It wasn't at all complementary.
Poppy reached down, pressed the egg to the entrance of Jenny's pussy and began to exert firm pressure. As the trainee was already aroused, the egg disappeared deep inside its target without too much effort.
Although she had been slow to surmise where this was going, Jenny had now been smacked over the head with the knowledge that the filigree egg was, in fact, a very low tech 'orgasm meter'. If she climaxed and her pussy flooded, the tablet would dissolve and voila, it wouldn't need much of a detective to figure out what had happened. Damn, but the egg felt good inside her. It stretched her wide and she could feel its presence when she
clenched. It was a deliciously wicked feeling. She sighed. If only the Easter Bunny could have found such good hiding places for his eggs. Her previous smile had turned rather brittle.
'Right ladies, let's tidy up and let our guest get some rest.'
While the others busied themselves with the cleaning and laundry, MG picked up the white collar and buckled it firmly into place, ignoring Jenny's groan of protest. She then produced a pair of leather items, which looked like mittens. It was August and what she'd want with mittens was anyone's guess, but each to their own, thought Jenny. Some people took their fetishes very seriously.
'These,' MG walked towards Jenny with the mittens swaying in her hands, 'are for you.'
No thanks, thought Jenny. She was warm enough already and she happened to be the naked one in the room.
'They will ensure those hands keep out of mischief. We wouldn't want an accidental orgasm, now would we?'
Gosh, wouldn't that be terrible? Jenny longed to let the sarcastic words drip from her lips but the bit between her teeth wasn't much for conversation. In turn her hands were picked up from the floor and fitted with a mitten. They slid on easily, her hands still slippery from the moisturiser they had used. When the silver buckles were fastened tightly around her wrists, making sure there would be no way of releasing them without the help of another, they were fastened behind her back with the help of a handy karabiner. She wanted to scream. Escape had yet another obstacle in its way.
'Have we cheered you up yet?' said MG, with an enigmatic smile on her lips.
Hardly, thought Jenny, and was annoyed that she couldn't smile witheringly at the annoying Ms Bossy Boots. MG must stand for Mean Girl.
'We've been shoe shopping,' piped up Polkadots, who was batting her eyelashes and wearing an enormous smile. 'Well, they're boots really, but you're going to love them!
Why did Jenny expect that not to be the case?
Poppy opened the long cardboard box which rustled with mountains of tissue paper and revealed a pair of lace-up, black leather boots. The delight on the girl's face was obvious. The horror on Jenny's was equally evident. They had hooves attached to the bottom of them. But that wasn't even the worst of it! There was also a shiny metal horseshoe on the underside of each, which Polkadots displayed proudly.
'Aren't they wonderful?' She had an excited little twinkle in her eye. 'They're murder to balance in, but you'll get the hang of it eventually. We all did. It's a bit like wearing high heels, without the heel.'
The boots had been shaped to mimic a horse's hoof as accurately as possible. They would elongate the wearer's calf and add several inches to their height. Yet another trick in Albrecht's stable with which to animalise their captives. Jenny shuddered, but Polkadots carried on, oblivious to the mounting tension in the room.
'You'll look a million dollars in these babies,' she whispered.
'Stand up,' barked MG, polite as ever.
Jenny abruptly stood up and waited for the terrible things to be slowly fastened up her calves. She needed the support of two women to balance while the fitting took place, and it took some considerable pushing and pulling in order for the rubberised boots to slot into place. When the women finally pulled away she nearly tumbled headfirst into the bench, but several hands caught and steadied her.
'Try a couple of steps,' said Poppy, encouragingly.
One hundred teetering, tottering steps later and Jenny had just about mastered how to walk in a very slow and very laborious fashion. Whilst the boots weren't actually uncomfortable, it would be nearly impossible to walk at a reasonable pace in them. She had been very effectively hobbled. No wonder no one ever escaped from this hellhole.
'One last thing, Poppy, if you please.' MG handed her aide a glittery red object, made of plastic.
Jenny eyed the thing with panic. Its long oval shape was an immediate giveaway. Polkadots popped the thing in her mouth and began sucking it.
'Don't worry; this plug is only a tiny one as we know you've had a hard day. It's got a darling little flower on the end of it and all the other ponies are going to love it. You're going to be a popular one this evening.' Polkadots winked.
Poppy began working the plug, sticky with her saliva, into Jenny's weary backside, which was not amused. It wriggled this way and that, but discomfiture aside, the trainee's thoughts were elsewhere. Stables? No, they definitely must have meant hotel. Was that just a cute pony term for lodgings?
With a pop the plug was secured in her bottom. Her libido was going into overdrive, again. When Polkadots finished and gave her clit a flick for good measure, Jenny nearly came on the spot.
'Right, out you go. You're late enough as it is.' MG opened the door wide and waited for Jenny to pass through.
'Remember, no orgasms,' added Poppy, her eyelashes still flopping up and down. She raised a hand, as did many of the others, and waved goodbye.
Jenny didn't think they'd mind too much if she didn't return the favour. Now, was that it? She was free to trot off to the hotel? That could be a problem, as she had no idea where the hotel was. It was also bloody difficult to balance on these ridiculous hoof boots. She'd probably get there sometime around midnight. Speaking of the time, Jenny dearly wished she'd worn a watch that morning. Food would be good, too; proper food with calories and taste. The only thing that would gratify her more at this moment in time was imminent rescue. And speaking of rescue, it shouldn't be too long now. Looking up to the heavens she witnessed beautiful tongues of orange flame that set the summer sky alight with colour.
'You're fond of a good sunset too, are you dearie?' a familiar voice rang out from behind her.
Jenny turned her head to discover Agnes waiting for her, sat on a wooden chair by the door. Ah, so she hadn't been abandoned. Taking her time to get to her feet, Agnes heaved an old leather handbag over her shoulder and rummaged inside. Please, no tack, thought Jenny in dismay. She already had more than enough to cope with this evening. Thankfully Agnes simply produced a length of silver chain and fastened it to the D-ring on Jenny's collar.
'Stable regulations.'
Jenny wanted to stamp her feet, having had more than her fair share of 'stable regulations' today. Stable regulations had seen her nails hacked off her fingertips, her gorgeous, silky black hair mowed down with a pair of clippers, her not-so-silky pubic hair plucked at painfully and her hands and feet rendered about as much use as a chocolate lunchbox. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble in protest. She rolled her eyes and tried again; about as much use as a box of condoms in a nunnery, then. This time her stomach did not disagree.
Agnes walked at a slow and sedate pace, which turned out to be both good and bad. It allowed Jenny to follow her without stumbling, even minus the use of her arms to aid balance, but it also allowed the passers-by to yell catcalls, jeers and crude innuendos. The odd flying object came her way once or twice, but thankfully missed. Although Jenny tried desperately to crane her neck this way and that for a view of the hotel, her ridiculous get-up proved too restrictive. She gave a loud grunt of frustration.
'Stop all that wiggling, child,' said Agnes, pulling sharply on the lead.
Jenny gurgled in response.
'You're a pony now, and ponies do not wiggle. They do not move their heads this way and that, either. They stand tall and proud and they display all their very pretty assets to their best advantage; even when they are aroused to distraction, which is most of the time. Ah, good. Here we are.'
Agnes stopped in front of a large wooden building. It was not a hotel. It had wide doors - just like a stable; it had stalls and hay - just like a stable; and it smelt just like a stable. She had just reached the gates of hell and was about to go into the inferno beyond. Jenny had so many woes right now; she didn't even know where to start. Where were her hands? She needed them, in the absence of a mirror, to feel what they'd done with her hair and finger her clit silly. Then the use of her mouth would be nice. She wanted to talk, about anything and everything, but she just wanted to hear the
sound of her own voice. She wanted the plug out of her ass and she wanted the egg out, too. Or did she? And she wanted to stop dribbling, wear clothes, eat proper food, put some makeup on, murder Matthews and get rescued. This place had just about tipped her over the edge and she was now plummeting into the realms of insanity. She had to get out. The salty little rainstorm that had been brewing inside her finally broke free and she sobbed.
'There, there, don't cry, dearie. I can't bear to see anyone upset,' said Agnes, rooting around in the sizeable handbag before managing to spot something of interest. She pulled out a pristine white hankie, with pink roses painstakingly embroidered around the edges, and mopped at Jenny's eyes, trying to stem the flood. There was a brief silence as Agnes struggled to find the right words with which to calm the pony. Finally she said, 'I know it seems hard right now, but give it a couple of days and you'll come to love it. All the ponies do. You just need to find the right trainer. You'll have more sex each day than you've ever had in your life and it will be bloody good sex, too.' Agnes wiped away a few more tears. 'Just take one day at a time and soon enough you'll be smiling the smuggest smile known to womankind. Pony-girls are adored and worshipped here. Yes, they get a hard spell in training but when it's over you'll be having the time of your life. I should know.' Agnes dabbed at her eyes again. 'It's a good job they removed your makeup, sweetie.'
Jenny's sobs had quietened to little snuffles. Agnes hadn't really calmed her, but her curiosity was somewhat piqued. Agnes had been a pony-girl? Was that what she had meant? But Agnes must be nearing sixty years old, so that meant they'd been training pony-girls here for, what, thirty-odd years or more? How did this sort of thing stay underground?
Satisfied that the pony had composed herself, Agnes took out a key and opened the stable door. She unbuckled her bridle and removed the bit from her teeth, before proceeding to release the single karabiner which had pinned her hands behind her back.
Hot to Trot: Transformed into a submissive pony girl... (Pony Tales Book 3) Page 8