Named and Shamed: Pony girl training begins... (Pony Tales Book 4) Read online

  'Beauty, stop being greedy. We all want a go. Has she got an egg or not?' CD sounded rather ticked off.

  Right thigh groaned. 'She won't have an egg. It's been years since someone around here had an egg. Is it my turn to have a suck yet?'

  Beauty sighed. She disengaged her mouth from its succulent resting place and let her tongue poke out prettily. It was the longest tongue in the stables and she had gained an impressive reputation with its use. Gently parting the folds of Jenny's pussy and delving around the outer edges quickly confirmed what CD was so anxious to know. Pulling away reluctantly, not unlike a cat which had just slurped at a bowl of cream, Beauty licked her lips in satisfaction and whispered, 'She's got an egg.'

  The only person in the room not to take a quick indrawn breath was Jenny, and the reason for that was twofold: firstly she had no idea what they were on about and secondly, it was a near impossible feat with two people sitting on her torso.

  'Oh well, that changes things,' said CD, somewhat obliquely.

  Jenny was no longer listening to a word that was being said. Air was becoming a very important commodity. 'Can't breathe,' she rasped.

  'You'll get used to that,' said CD, blithely unconcerned. 'Just you wait until you're corseted tomorrow. Your stomach will feel like someone's wrapped a live anaconda around it.'

  'Speaking of snakes,' said left thigh, 'did you know that a snake has to digest its prey really quickly, because if it starts to rot they have to regurgitate it or the resulting bacteria will cause food poisoning?'

  'Our thanks to Miss Zoology in the left-hand corner,' said CD with her best forced smile. 'Let's move swiftly on, shall we?'

  'Can I assume that because of her egg we won't be going down the traditional initiation route?' Beauty was using her lithe tongue to lap every last trace of Jenny's sweetness from her lips.

  'Henny, can you remember exactly what the ponies said to you, in regards to your egg?' CD began chewing her nails thoughtfully.

  Lucky her, thought Jenny, whose hands were sweating uncomfortably, bundled up in the tight leather mittens she had been forced to wear. 'Um, MG,' Jenny had to pause to suck in air, 'said something about,' another pause and another strangled breath, 'no unauthorised... orgasms.' She was beginning to feel lightheaded and nauseous. She had no idea whether it was due to lack of circulation, lack of breathable air or the side-effects of the pain killers which had been administered.

  'Do you remember what the punishment was for failing?' CD bestowed a severe look upon the trainee, which she hoped would indicate how important the question was.

  'No,' replied Jenny, who had her own concerns at the moment, such as trying to remain conscious.

  'Damn,' muttered CD, and she promptly slithered off Jenny and began to pace, or what counted as pacing for pony girls, which was, of course, crawling.

  Thankfully, the others followed her lead. Jenny's eyes just about managed to pop back into their sockets and she sucked in several great lungfuls of air.

  'All right, horsies, here's the plan,' said CD in an authoritative tone. 'We probably don't want to risk a group punishment, so instead of everyone working over the trainee and being rewarded with an orgasm in turn, we'll have to adjust our procedure slightly.' A collective groan fanned around the room.

  'The trainee will be allowed to perform an enthusiastic welcome to each one of us by demonstrating her oral skills. It's in our interests to make sure she perfects them as soon as possible. Each pony will then be allowed a few laps at the trainee, wherever they might take her fancy, but we must be careful to ensure that she does not climax.'

  What, what, what? If Jenny had just heard that correctly, they were intending to turn her into a lesbian and then torture her with the newfound knowledge. She squirmed on the prickly hay and managed, with some concentrated effort, to flip herself over and resume her crawling stance.

  'Um, ladies, I don't do... that.' Jenny waved a mittened paw in the air for emphasis. More ponies were joining the fray now; ones who had been previously snuggled down for the night, judging by the bits of straw that poked out of their hair in scarecrow fashion. There were a few sniggers, some sideways glances and the odd whinny of amusement.

  'You do now,' said Beauty, and she sat up, crossed her arms over her generously proportioned breasts and parted her thighs in invitation. 'I've had my three laps, so I guess I'll go first,' she purred.

  'No, no, you don't understand,' said Jenny, backing away as fast as her tight and rubbery pony-boots would allow. 'I'm going to be rescued tomorrow.'

  There was a long pause before the stable erupted in riotous laughter. Some of the ponies were laughing so hard they had to sit down and wipe tears from their eyes.

  'Sit on her, Beauty, and we'll hold her down for you,' said CD, rolling her eyes. She looked rather disgusted with the protégé that appeared to have landed into her care.

  Jenny found herself tumbled once again, which wasn't really hard considering she didn't have proper use of either her legs or arms, and the same ponies sat in their respective corners. This time however, there was yet another obstacle to overcome. Beauty was lowering her... bits... slowly down towards her face. When her knees pressed tightly against either side of her head, making sure she couldn't move an inch, she pressed the slippery folds of her pussy directly onto Jenny's mouth.

  'You don't get to breathe until you do the business,' said CD ominously, once again sitting atop Jenny's chest.

  Jenny didn't realise, until quite some time later, that it hadn't been an idle threat.

  Disaster Averted

  He caught the cup neatly in one hand and by following the direction of the moving liquid, managed to contain the imminent disaster which threatened. A few drops of coffee sailed over the rim and sloshed around in the saucer. No matter; he'd make sure they were not wasted. Setting the cup back on his desk and returning his attention to the employee before him, he studied her expression. Marianna's face was a picture: Edvard Munch's Scream, to be exact. Her jaw was slack in horror, her eyes so wide her eyelids had almost lost themselves in the back of her head and her hands flailed around madly. She began stammering.

  'I'm s-so sorry, Mr Matthews. I mean, S-s-s-sir.'

  Mark sat back in his seat and had to work hard at keeping his grin in check. This was priceless. She had just delivered her pretty little backside on a platter for his delectation. How adorable this one was. Why had he not used her before? It took a few moments to compose himself before he could locate the stern tone needed with which to chastise her.

  'You've made not one but two grave mistakes within seconds, my dear. What shall I do with you?' He let the open question settle in the silence of the office. As expected, she made no response. She did manage to sink to her knees once more and resume her stance of supplication, which was, he conceded, an apology of sorts.

  'To make amends, Marianna, you will roll up your skirt and place your backside over my desk, so I may do whatever I wish with it. You will then lap up the contents of this saucer, as I hate to waste good coffee. After you have accomplished both feats you will return to the kitchen to fetch me another cup and we will begin again. I trust you will be more careful if given a second chance?' Though she couldn't see the dark look he directed at her, he knew his words had affected her by the way her fingers tightened into claws around her elbows, which were once again placed behind her back.

  'Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,' she whispered. Getting to her feet, somewhat unsteadily, she kept her eyes downcast as she approached his desk. It was a pity, as he would have quite liked to have seen the expression of apprehension, or perhaps even fear, which might have lingered there.

  'Well, get on with it,' and he pushed back the castors of his chair to allow her to pass in front of him. His impatient tone was not lost on her. Practically flinging her body over his desk he watched her shaking hands as they reached down to grip the hem of her skirt. As they slowly rolled the fabric upwards he realised that the pace of her fingers was not purposefully tantali
sing, because she fumbled more than once at her task.

  'Are you nervous?' Her hands faltered yet again, but quickly resumed the act of displaying the beginnings of a very pert set of buttocks.

  'Yes,' her voice was throaty. She appeared to take control of herself and began rolling the material with renewed purpose.

  'Your tanned flesh is beautiful. I'm going to enjoy taking that backside later. When was the last time you indulged in anal sex, Marianna?' He was being mean and he knew it, but watching her squirm uncomfortably on the desk, he wanted to know if he aroused her.

  'When I was under the instruction of James Entwell, Sir, about two years ago.'

  Good Lord, had she been in his office that long? He wondered who'd had the pleasure of using her. Without realising it he found he'd asked the question out loud, because the next thing he knew she was answering it.

  'No one Sir, since my induction about eighteen months ago.'

  'You mean to tell me that you have had no penetrative sex in eighteen months?' Mark's voice was somewhat incredulous and he shook his head in amazement. Surely that little snippet of information couldn't be true. Distracted for a moment he watched as the uppermost curve of her ass was gradually revealed and his cock was pulsing in his trousers. He suspected that Marianna's body would have to be fucked several times and in many different ways for it to be sated. If she'd really gone eighteen months without sex he'd have to go gentle, dammit.

  'Does a vibrator count, Sir?'

  Mark slammed his head against the backrest of his chair. She was serious. He knew full well that she'd had no partners, because he paid for the security which guarded the apartment block which housed all of his submissives, and they were not allowed callers of any kind except for family members. When they were out and about they were watched and any fraternisation of a sexual nature would guarantee instant dismissal. The idea was to keep them hot and horny at all times, but the thought that not one of the dignitaries, clients or visitors that were allowed the use of his staff had picked her, made him somewhat perplexed. She was a beautiful woman, so why had no one required her services before now?

  'No, it does not.' He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the tips of his fingertips. Fine, he'd go gentle, but she was still getting a taste of his belt. He'd been looking forward to that part.

  The skirt moved higher and higher. The further the skirt peeled back, the harder it became to breathe. He noticed the disobedient woman was wearing panties, which she'd pay for later, and the only thing it did was fan the flames.

  'Were you aware that I require my submissives to forgo their underwear at all times when in the confines of my office?' He generally let them get away with wearing a bra, especially if they had a generous-sized cleavage, but there were zero exceptions to the 'no panties' rule.

  'Yes.'

  At least she was honest. Now that her fingertips had stopped moving he admired the whole expanse of her tanned backside and noted that she either sunbathed 'au natural' or used one of the tanning tubes in the beauty salon that all his 'ladies' had an account with.

  He stood up and bent his large frame over hers. 'Place your hands beside your head.' His long arms, still encased in his suit jacket, helped guide them into place. 'And what made you think you could flaunt my rules?' He bent down to whisper the sentence in her ear and noted that her body trembled. For the second time he wondered if she would be wet for him. He would soon find out.

  Marianna made an audible gulp before she answered his question. He noted, with some amusement, the two bright spots of colour that bloomed upon her cheeks. It took a moment for her to reply. 'After a year of not being called upon, I figured no one would mind too much if I wore panties.'

  It was a reasonable answer, but it didn't excuse her behaviour in the least. 'Do I, or do I not pay an awful lot of money to have you at my beck and call, Marianna?'

  'Yes, Sir, you do.' Marianna's bank account had a ridiculous sum in it to testify to the fact.

  'I have very few rules in this office. I wonder if a disobedient little slut such as yourself would be able to remember them all?'

  She remained silent, but then, he hadn't expected anything else. Placing a palm underneath her body, just below her left breast, he smiled when he felt for her heartbeat. It was easy enough to detect; the thing was trying to make a break for it. 'Calm down, Marianna. I'm not an ogre.' His fingers caressed each little ridge of her ribcage and he smiled when her heart appeared to pound harder. So, at least she found him attractive. 'What were those rules again, my dear?' His voice was that of a master seducer's and dripped with hunger.

  'Sir. All submissives are required to be clean shaven, wear no panties and not indulge in any sexual activities unless prior permission from yourself or staff has been given, Sir.'

  'Where did you obtain permission for the use of your vibrator?' Mark was curious. He'd never spoken to the girl on any matter remotely sexual. She would be aware that if she was caught in her rooms bringing herself to orgasm she would be liable for instant dismissal, as per her contract. All of the rooms in each submissive's apartment had cameras, and although not monitored 24/7, it was usually a good enough deterrent for them to behave.

  'I asked your secretary, Sir.'

  'You asked Cecilia?' This time his jaw dropped. Cecilia was his private secretary. She was approaching her sixtieth birthday and had been with him right from the start, over fifteen years ago when he had first dipped his toes into the world of commerce. Whilst she knew about his sexually deviant nature, she chose to distance herself to that side of his dealings and few of his submissives would dare to approach her with anything more than a perfunctory request. Her stern glance and vicious-looking shoulder pads usually kept the girls at arms' length.

  'Yes.'

  'What did she say?'

  Marianna paused for a second. 'She took pity on me because I'm a brunette. She did say not to bother her with "these type of requests" too often, though.'

  Mark laughed. 'I'll bet she did.' That woman would have some great tales to tell when she retired, had she not signed an NDA, of course. His curiosity had been piqued yet again though. 'How many times did you ask her?'

  'Just the once; I couldn't summon enough courage to ask her again.'

  'You mean to tell me, that in the past eighteen months you've had precisely one orgasm?' Mark could not believe what he was hearing. She simply nodded in response. 'Have you missed sex, Marianna?'

  'Oh yes, Sir.' There was no doubt that her answer was in the affirmative bracket.

  'Well, on the plus side I guess you've got a lot of joyful catching up to do.' Spanning a hand across her cheek, ensuring her head would stay on the table, he entwined a lock of her beautiful chestnut hair on his index finger and then tugged at it sharply. Her eyes became luminous with need. 'Do you like pain, Marianna? Would it arouse you to suffer a little, under my hand?'

  'Yes Sir. I would like that.' It was a standard response; whether true or not remained to be seen. The girl had been expertly voice trained; her breathy little whisper gave nothing away. He'd see how good she really was, when they tested the theory in a few minutes. If she could school her features under the cruel bite of his belt she'd be a bloody good actress.

  'Have you broken any more of my rules, by any chance?' He pressed his lips to the pulse point on her neck and lathed at the area with his tongue. Thud, thud, thud went the traitorous beat.

  'No, Sir.'

  'Let's check, shall we?' He stood up and let his right hand trace a leisurely path down the side of her body until he reached her ass. He then let two fingers walk down the valley of her backside until the soft peaks denied him further access. He scooped his fingers under the white lace of her panties and pulled roughly. The flimsy elastic didn't stand a chance. Ripping the offensive material away from her body and discarding the remains on the floor, he cupped her sex. When his fingers brushed the smooth expanse of her soft, shaven pussy, she jumped up like she'd been shot. She was wet all right. Letting his fin
gers arch into the fluid heat of her body, his efforts were rewarded when he felt a trickle of liquid slide down his finger. She was aroused, ripe and oh-so ready for him. He curved both his middle and index finger into a crook shape and began to torment her clit. Marianna was certainly due an orgasm, but seeing as how she hadn't had one in months, a few more minutes here and there probably wouldn't hurt. He stopped fingering her and laughed at the little petulant moan she gave him.

  'Kneel before me.' Her body slithered down the table and she was on her hands and knees quickly. He expected the woman thought she was down there for a blowjob. She was in for a shock. 'Remove my belt, Marianna, using nothing more than your teeth and then beg to feel its vengeance.' Yes, there was the delightful gaze of disbelief in her eyes. He had been right.

  A few minutes later, when her teeth were still working to free the tight leather, he wished he had asked to be blown. Having her hot breath torment the sensitive skin of his cock was a torture all of its own. If he ended up staining his suit it would serve him right.

  When she finally freed his belt it was not a moment too soon. The image of her grasping the leather between her teeth, with its tails poking from each side of her mouth, would stay with him for some time to come.

  'Back over the table, Marianna, and start begging.'

  Glorious

  'Well? Is she any good?'

  'She sucks,' replied Beauty, her lips forming a moue of disdain.

  'Yes, but is she any good?' asked the redhead on Jenny's chest.

  'Ha-ha, very funny, Red.'

  Jenny had been enduring such comments for the past ten minutes. Her particular favourite was when her technique had been likened to 'that of a wet fish having an epileptic fit'. Not one to be defeated easily, she realised that Beauty wasn't going to get off her face until she had completed her task. It quickly became obvious that having an additional X chromosome meant that the bearer of said chromosome was a lot more difficult to please sexually. If Jenny had a penis in front of her, she could have practically done anything with it and the male in question would have slathered at her feet. This was not so with women. Realising she could end up being smothered for the foreseeable future if she didn't improve her game, she started to experiment. Starting with the 'windscreen wiper' she let her tongue swing from side to side. No luck there. Then she tried an up and down flicking motion, which was marginally more successful as Beauty actually managed a single groan. Jenny tried several different tongue motions: soft, hard, pointed and palpating, to no better effect. Then she tried circling the little nub of the clitoris, but the elusive moan was nowhere to be found. Running out of ideas she tried sucking it, as if it were the tiniest of cocks, but still... nothing. In desperation she finally tried writing the alphabet, which was something she'd read in a men's magazine somewhere and voila! These men knew what they were talking about. Beauty was screaming her head off before she'd reached the letter 'O'.