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

  Having the taste of a woman in her mouth wasn't at all unpleasant, Jenny mused. She rather liked the musky, earthy scent that coated her lips and tongue. They were deliciously soft too; soft and squishy, unlike the hard, salty maleness of a cock. If she were being entirely honest, she had become rather aroused at the thought of making another woman come. Without doubt she still preferred men, but women had a charm all of their own. Unfortunately, before she had a chance to gloat upon her victory and give herself a congratulatory thump on the back, CD had taken Beauty's place.

  To Jenny's extreme chagrin the alphabet trick did not work on CD, even when she progressed with numbers which entered the double digit format. Swearing under her breath at the complete fickleness of womankind, she started at the beginning again.

  By the tenth pony she was really starting to get the hang of things. A quick trial and error session at the beginning revealed what was going to work and then, yeah baby, she dived in for the kill. It worked like a dream and while she didn't want to boast, she suspected she could have been a lesbian in a previous life. It was almost a shame she was getting rescued tomorrow. There was probably a lot of fun to be had here.

  As number fourteen, and the final pony of the evening's proceedings, knelt over her face and thrust her loins onto Jenny's mouth, she realised she had become rather wet. The egg felt heavenly inside her and it wouldn't take too much to tip her body over the edge. Fourteen was screaming her head off in record time. Applause filtered through the room.

  'Can you get off me now?' rasped Jenny, whose tongue felt like it had just swum ten miles in a lake of treacle.

  'Only if you give me your solemn promise that you will remain on the floor until we have finished with you.' CD gave her a stern look.

  Jenny nodded. It wasn't as if she could go anywhere, and if they wanted to use their tongues on her, so much the better. She'd hoped they'd forgotten about the no-orgasm rule, as she was revved up and ready to roar.

  CD stroked the length of her moist pink tongue with a long finger and smiled. 'Ponies, you may have fun but do not let her...' the rest of the words were lost in the rustle of hay and the rush of crawling hooves.

  Though the bodies moved, the ponies didn't trust her to remain still. Hands pinned her down from every angle and stray, leather-clad legs rubbed and slithered across her body. The prickly straw underneath her was all but forgotten as her senses were bombarded from every angle. She arched, sobbed, pleaded and begged. They were animals and wild in their need for a sweetly perfumed, tasty morsel of human-horseflesh. Jenny felt as if she were being eaten alive. Teeth sunk into the most delicate parts of her body, nails scraped and tongues dragged across every inch of her skin. All of her newfound tricks were replayed and with much greater precision. The windscreen, the alphabet, the clit-sucking; all of these and more were employed to better effect, with one single difference. They obeyed CD to the letter. No matter how excruciatingly close she came to release, it was always one terrible hairbreadth away.

  An hour later, after several very articulate tongues had performed all manner of stunts upon her body, Jenny began pleading with every fibre of her being.

  'Please let me. Someone please let me... I need to... I've got to... I want to...' and then, 'I'll do anything you tell me to, just please let me come!' Jenny's body writhed and undulated as it begged for mercy. 'You can't leave me like this!' The trainee pony girl was sobbing, so acute was her pain and frustration.

  The stable erupted in laughter again. 'Right, hands off her; time to settle down for the night,' ordered CD, and this was not the response Jenny wanted to hear. She began pleading as if her life depended on it.

  'Can't we just take the egg out?' Jenny's sobs had grown so fierce she'd begun hiccupping. Her mittened hands flailed helplessly above her head.

  'No we can't,' replied CD. 'I know you can't see them, but when you wake up you'll notice this place is wired with more cameras than a Hollywood movie set. They have infra-red capabilities and we're closely watched at all times. There are plenty of people who'll pay good money to watch naked pony girls frolicking in the dark.'

  'Oh God, how many people are watching us?' Jenny was horrified. If they were recording her, how easy would it be for the footage to get into the wrong hands and be used against her?

  'How long is a piece of string? Excuse me while I just go telephone pervert central.' A titter went around the room. 'Now go to sleep and shut up.' CD sighed and curled up in spoon-fashion between several naked bodies.

  They looked very content in the little nest they had made. So they should be, Jenny thought miserably, after she'd just given them all juicy big orgasms. They'd be off to snooze-land in no time. But sleep was an impossible dream for her. She rolled on her stomach and tossed and turned, feeling the prickly hay press into her over-sensitised body. It only served to torment her further. Seeking relief she pummelled her mittens against her clit, again and again, which increased her level of arousal but left her no further towards her goal of satiation. Determined to accomplish something on her own today, she began prowling the stables on all fours. It was an exploratory journey, but she had a definite mission in mind.

  Her first stop was a visit to the stone troughs, where she immersed her face in the cold water and drank her fill. Servicing ponies was thirsty work. The rough stone would not be suitable for her purpose, though. When her stomach grumbled as the cold water hit it, she looked around for a trough of food, but it was evident she was too late. The adjoining trough had been emptied so thoroughly that not even a scrap of food remained. It was annoying, but she would have been willing to eat just about anything right then. The hunger pangs that attacked her body were coming more frequently and she was beginning to feel lightheaded with fatigue. It mattered not, because she was single-minded in her mission. Turning her attention to the left wall she scoured its surface. There must be something that would serve for her purpose. Handcuffs? No, too cold, stiff and unyielding. A chain might have functioned, but there was not enough of it. She needed something a little longer in length.

  It was then that she spied the object of her desire. It was a free length of thick, hessian rope, about two metres in length and it dangled from the wall at waist height. Jenny smiled to herself. This might just work. Trying to balance her body on two legs took three attempts, but the primal pleasure in accomplishing the task was worth it. These people were not going to beat her. Taking the ends of the rope between her two mittens, which was no easy feat, she threaded it through her legs and clamped them around it, pressing it against her crotch to hold it safely in position. The thick length felt heavenly, pressed tightly against her pussy. It was rough, abrasive and perfect for a little game of one-sided tug-of-war. Transferring her hands to the back of her body, she spent some time doing artful contortions until the rope was once again between her two gloves. The cable jerked underneath her hands and cut into her flesh, but she couldn't have cared less. She was beyond pain and didn't care who was watching.

  Her head threw back in rapture as the thread of the rough rope began to do its thing. Jenny danced to its tune, to-ing and fro-ing like a woman possessed. Her hands yanked at the length of rope harshly and never had anything felt so good on her fevered clit. Burning for release it took only five pulls before her body twisted and pulsed with her impending release. Clamping her jaws shut for fear of reprisals, she felt her body shudder violently, grasping the golden egg in a series of glorious contractions until her legs wobbled and then collapsed to the floor. Her belaboured breathing sounded horribly loud in the silence of the stable. It was not to last. A loud noise rocketed her head around.

  The sound she'd heard was several loud cheers and whistles. Jenny's heart rate was doing overtime with shock. Realising they had been watching her the entire time, her cheeks flushed with mortification. She faced the brick wall to escape the prying eyes but she knew several pairs still bored into her back. Diverting her gaze upwards she found the gagged pony above watching her every move. Oh well, see
ing as how everyone was amused, she might as well turn around and face the music.

  'Congratulations,' purred Beauty, when Jenny had turned her attention back to the group of ponies behind her, who were smiling broadly, 'you are now officially one of us.'

  That was the last thing Jenny wanted to hear, but what an initiation ceremony it had been! Still, they weren't an entirely bad bunch, she supposed. As the heat of spent desire began to seep from her sated body, the distinct chill in the air became more pronounced. Now that the twilight gloom had left the stables, complete darkness settled on its occupants and brought draughts and dampness. Just as Jenny's skin was beginning to prickle with cold they invited her to share their nest and snuggle together. It would have been foolish to refuse their kindness.

  Lying down rather awkwardly, unsure of what area of anatomy was suitable to be touched, she needn't have worried. Beauty grabbed one of Jenny's breasts in her hands and plumped it twice before pressing her lips to the back of her neck. The surreal dream that wasn't a dream continued.

  'Any questions before we go to sleep?' whispered Beauty in her ear, her voice slurred with the need for sleep.

  'Yes,' whispered Jenny.

  'Mmm?'

  'What does MG stand for?' This question had been bugging Jenny for some time.

  'You mean in relation to cars?' Beauty shook her head dazedly.

  'No, the ponies who were bathing me, one of them was called MG. Magnolia?'

  Beauty snorted. 'Her name's Morning Glory, sweetheart, and you are the strangest creature. Anything else on your mind while we're at it?'

  'What is a golden egg and why have I got one?'

  'That's a better question. When you get the opportunity to use your voice around here remember to use it wisely,' said Beauty, and she thought for a second. 'I've been here for five years now and I've only heard about them. What I do know is this: you're an important pony. A golden egg ties you with every other pony girl in the stable. We share your successes and will be rewarded with you and equally, we share your failures and will have to accept group punishments if you disappoint in your duties. Having an egg means you're destined to wear the black collar and you will have everyone in the stable behind you in order to accomplish the feat.'

  'Why would someone want me to wear the black?'

  'Several reasons. You'll be worth a fortune if they sell you and you'll be expertly trained and disciplined as a sex slave. Either that or someone wants to see you suffer. You've not offended anyone recently, have you?'

  The list of people Jenny had annoyed was probably long and endless, but she didn't think she'd offended anyone badly enough to have them kidnap and enslave her. 'I don't think so,' she whispered, but the answer fell upon deaf ears. The soft sounds of snoring could be heard from Beauty's lips and her limp form was not conducive to idle chatter.

  Lightning

  Marianna heard the insistent thud of heavy rain against the sheet glass windows and the muted ring of several telephones in the workspace beyond. An ominous rumble of thunder roared its discontent in the distance and Mark could have been mistaken for thinking that was why utter silence had descended upon his employees from beyond the closed door. She knew differently. The blondes were shocked and worried. He had never toyed with a brunette before and they would be crossing their fingers that this was a passing fancy.

  The threat of stormy weather did not frighten her. Mark Matthews, in contrast, scared her witless, and not without good reason. She had heard on the submissive-grapevine the awful tales that befell naughty little girls in his employ who refused to obey or, as he had termed it, 'weaken', under his able hands. Beautiful temptress that she was, Marianna did not believe her good looks would have any sway in her dealings with 'The Boss'. That was assuming there would be a repeat of tonight's antics and that in itself was a rather presumptuous thought. Matthews was well-known for his short attention span with regards to the female sex.

  None of that concerned her for the moment, however. Having waited for what seemed like her whole life, there was now a glimmer of hope that her impossible daydream might be about to unfold into fruition. Having dreams made reality was an unprecedented first for her and she had previously been a student, or perhaps victim, of the school of thought that inferred wishes do not come true.

  This was half due to the fact that in her quest to gain a half hour of Matthews' time, in the most intimate fashion possible, she'd had to seek a mentor or more specifically a dominant to teach her the ways of his world. This had led to a mandatory training period of three years and an exorbitant amount of money changing hands for the privilege of being schooled in the manner of a submissive. Then her body had to become accustomed to the type of regular abuse that men such as Matthews might heap upon it. The training regime had been long, arduous and only partly sexual in nature, although Marianna was the first to admit that was the part she had enjoyed most. Deportment, elegance, speech therapy, dance classes and lessons in wholly unabsorbing subjects, such as business economics, had all been slight stumbling blocks she had been determined to overcome to attain her final goal. The hardest part had been summoning the courage to take the first step; the rest had been sheer grit and determination on her part.

  When she had first landed her place at Zystrom it had been easy to assume that all her hard work was over and that her presence would soon be gracing Mr Matthews' bed. This wasn't arrogance on her part, as Marianna had a near fatal effect on men in general. Most would happily die to have her and for those who weren't completely enrapt within seconds, five minutes of her addictive presence would usually ensure their willingness to cut off an important limb in order to spend the rest of the evening with her. When one man had called her 'his Venus' on a date, she had initially been enchanted, only to find that he had meant something akin to a Venus fly trap, but for the male sex rather than an insect. While not overly complimentary, it was hardly insulting and she had thought at the time that her success with Matthews would be virtually guaranteed. It was to her horror, just two days after she had taken an unbreakable five year contract with Zystrom, to find out that not only did Matthews prefer blondes, but that he used them exclusively to all other hair-colour variants.

  Marianna had initially thought the situation could be easily solved with a simple purchase of hair dye. Not so. Like 'enhanced' breasts, which were expressly forbidden in the Zystrom contract, Matthews could spot a fake blonde from a neighbouring continent, which meant that all of Marianna's time and effort had been for naught. She had been left to rot in the outermost corner of the building, positioned carefully behind one of the tallest potted palms the open plan office boasted, as if she were an offensive smell that needed to be covered up and disguised. Within a single week she had wilted like a wallflower, one denied both sun and water.

  To make matters worse, without Matthews' stamp of approval upon her body, her concealed position made sure no one else would take pity on her libido either. Never had she been so close and yet so damn far from achieving her objective. Finding herself trapped without recourse for escape, her body entered a living hell that felt a little like a five year prison sentence, but much, much worse. You could get away with the odd orgasm in a prison cell, under the cover of darkness. People occasionally talked to you in prison and you weren't awarded leper status simply by possessing the wrong gene with regards to your hair colour. Why did he have to be the only man immune to her charms?

  Never had time dragged so slowly. Each day was a nightmare that only the dullness of routine and an automaton feature she wasn't consciously aware she possessed managed to push her past into the next. She was not getting any younger and there was no option to run and lick her wounds after realising the grave mistake made. And yet, here she was, nearly two years after the date of her inception, finally where she belonged. The question was why? Had Matthews suddenly had a change of heart, or was he temporarily colour-blind? There was always the possibility that Cinderella's fairy godmother had taken to drink and begun to mudd
le names about. Their names shared the same number of syllables, if nothing else. Whatever the reason that enabled her body to be in close proximity to that of his, she ached to be used and abused in every way imaginable.

  Repositioning herself over the cold wooden table, she felt it flatten her ample breasts and dig into the soft flesh of her stomach. Letting her chin rest squarely on the polished surface, the belt dangled from her teeth and grazed the floor. Sensing his impatience, she stiffened in anticipation and could almost feel the waves of tension radiate from his taut frame. It was odd, but she had never seen him anything but sub-zero cool and calmly in control of all he surveyed, even when he stood to lose millions. Neither money nor business was responsible for his mood and she would happily bet on the fact. Her curiosity was piqued. It would stay that way. Her claws were well and truly sheathed in all dealings with this man. When hands that were always rock-steady shook when he grappled with her skirt, she didn't know whether to be pleased or terrified.