This is Book Three of Pony Tales. If you’ve not read books one and two, click here.
The viciously attractive Mark, with the unfaltering smile, has a day of endurance planned for Jenny that the devil himself would find challenging. His artful temperature play has her screaming, his anal dilators have her howling and a ride in the sybian’s saddle leaves her virtually unconscious, but the day is far from over. A group of ladies, with wandering fingers, are given the task of transforming Jenny into a sweet, submissive little pony who will be left looking ‘hot to trot’ in no time at all.
After an exhausting day of training, Jenny has only escape or rescue on her mind. Alas, escape is rather difficult when you’re naked, dressed in thigh high pony boots and have your hands immobilised in leather mittens which are clipped behind your back. Besides, escape isn’t all that important – not when you’re desperate for your next orgasm, it isn’t.
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.
Isabelle du Fontenay
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 that 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 that 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.
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 induction,’ 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 that she might even be rescued. Someone must have realised that 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 that 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 forwards firmly. 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 that 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. Ughh, who would willingly drink this stuff? There was no taste and more importantly, there was no alcohol inside it. After drinking more than her fair share of the stuff, finally Mark’s boot detached from its resting place. He began unbuckling her bridle.
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 and heard his knuckles crack. Before he’d 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 the dark look, her legs had begun to wobble and she had rushed to obey. Thoughts of his long 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 all 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 had 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.
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 more than being tied to a four poster bed with silk scarves and 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 only be 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 the front of 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 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 15mm thick hemp rope. Your body would be angled and tensioned so that it jutted forward at about 30 degrees. The open window would be at least 10 stories high above the ground and my preference would be for around 20. 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 that 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 should be enough to incentivise your co-operation. Because of the tension, you’d need to stand on tiptoes to ease the pressure upon your body. I think I’d add coils of rope around your neck, too, tensioned to your outstretched arms, so that 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 that your member 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 that had just been 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 6ft tall and to say that 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 times hard, baby, but I promise to make it worth your while.’ Mark blew her a kiss from the tips of his fingers.
‘Arrogant animal. Mark my words I’ll sink my teeth into you one of these days, Matthews.’ Katrina gave him a magnificent smile, with nearly every single one of her bright white teeth vividly on display.
‘Oh, I have no doubt you’ll get your chance, sweetheart.’ Mark replied.
Katrina narrowed her eyes and looked at him with interest. ‘Name the day, darling,’ she whispered, with her teeth pulling at a bright red fingernail provocatively.
‘As soon as they start playing my requiem, sweets, I’m all yours.’ He winked.
She huffed, turned on her heel and flounced away without a word.
Jenny had to admit the woman had style. Her mouth was still open and she was blinking stupidly.
‘Did you have a different version of events, or did you want to stick to that one?’ Mark asked dryly.
‘That was good, I’ll stick with that,’ Jenny whispered.
‘I thought you might. Now eat up like a good little horsie or I’ll find something else with which to fill that greedy little mouth.’ He stared pointedly at the fly of his breeches. He felt an urge to bury his cock in the back of her throat, right up to the hilt, his earlier reserve be damned. Just one little excuse and he’d be thrusting away like a world class Samba dancer. Unfortunately, Jenny’s face hit the food trough with such speed, it was almost insulting. This was not the normal effect he had on woman. Oh, well. She’d be begging to suck his cock before long, they all did. Feeling slightly spiteful, he added the next sentence for good measure:
‘Make sure you eat your fill. You’re going to need to keep your strength up for Mr Big and his friends in the training room.’ When her face paled considerably, he didn’t feel quite the amount of satisfaction that he’d thought he would.
Walking along through the short-blade grass, with Jenny obediently trailing behind him, his mind was elsewhere. It occurred to him, vaguely, that he hadn’t even bothered to re-buckle her bridle as it was still dangling from his hand. Though the day was one of the finest an English summer could provide, with bold blue skies and blinding, golden sunshine that bleached the colour out of every living thing, Mark found his previous good humour had curdled somewhat. It wasn’t the bickering session with Katrina, for that’s all it amounted to, but rather that her scenario had hit the nail squarely on the head and had pushed all of his panic buttons. His breathing rate had increased. Not so that she would have noticed; the difference would have been infinitesimal to anyone bar himself, but the woman had manage to embark her fantasy upon one of his biggest fears: acrophobia. He’d always hated heights and even as a small kid no-one had been able to get him down the big slide in the playground. Age and a little bit of wisdom had improved his response to the irrational phobia, but it could still make his stomach churn. Being strung-up like that would be one of his worst nightmares, but at least he hadn’t given the fact away. The most annoying thing, was that the image was going to stay with him for the next few hours, he was sure of it. On the plus side, he did have a juicy little morsel at his side, which should prove a reasonable distraction, especially considering what he had planned for her. Turning his head around, with the premise of watching her delectable backside jiggle as she crawled, he nearly keeled over when he found no-one there. Surveying the area quickly, he found Jenny up on two feet and legging it for all she was worth to the boundary fence at the back of the paddock. Shit. The gate was electrified.
‘Hot to Trot’ is around 30,000 words in length and is my longest novella to date. It’s a nice feeling to have finally finished it! When I have a release date, I will update this post accordingly. Until then, many thanks for reading this far 🙂