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

by C. P. Mandara

  'I don't see much wiggling,' the annoying man behind her said, laying into her backside with more vigour. 'You should pay less attention to munching and more attention to pleasing me, or I'll do something about it.'

  Jenny ignored him, too absorbed in trying to eat as much as she possibly could from the depths of her trough. Rough hands reached under her and took hold of her breasts, squeezing them painfully. She gasped in shock. Then they pulled sharply at her nipples, elongating the buds until they were painfully distended.

  'Let's see how well you can eat with these on your teats,' the boy drawled in her ear, and suddenly metal jaws pinched the delicate flesh of her areolae. It took two seconds for the full agony of the clamps to hit her and by that time his smacks had resumed. With an indelicate scream she gave up trying to eat. The raw sting of each smack pounding into her ass, combined with her tortured nipples, had her gasping.

  'Wiggle your sodding ass! Do you want to make me look bad in front of all the others? Believe me, if Mr A catches your lacklustre performance you'll be down for a spell in the dungeon.' The smacks rained down harder and faster. Finally she succumbed to the inevitable and began to wiggle her backside, revisiting the shame of yesterday's public humiliation at the hands of the villagers. 'That's it,' the nameless boy encouraged her, 'but a bit of a wider, longer wiggle. Try a figure of eight shape and make sure you splay those legs.'

  Gritting her teeth Jenny grimaced and gave him what he wanted, the lewd sight of her backside jiggling this way and that as he continued to spank it. His hand now felt like sandpaper on the sensitised flesh. How much longer would she have to endure this? The clamps continued to bite into her tender nipples and as she swayed to and fro she could feel them moving with her, the ache increasing with each passing second.

  Mr A was surveying the room of swaying backsides with obvious pleasure. Perfectly pink, rounded rumps danced, twisted and writhed to the sound of a spankingly-loud beat. He knew their faces would be smeared with sticky white porridge and their pussies creaming and dribbling with arousal. If they weren't, by the time his boys and girls had finished with them, they would be.

  'OK, that's enough everybody. Now get 'em cleaned up.'

  The grooms were quick to obey. There was a flurry of activity as water was run, sponges were fetched and buckets were carried. Mr A used the time to examine each pony's behind, giving it a sharp squeeze as he listened for an appropriate accompanying gasp of pain. Then he plunged two gloved fingers inside their pussies to determine levels of arousal. If his fingers slipped inside easily he moved straight on to the next pony, but if they didn't he made note of it in a little black book that he pulled from his pocket. So far so good, as all the ponies had been dripping wet. When he reached the new girl a sharp squeeze produced the noise he was looking for, but when his fingers pried for entry at what appeared to be a juicy wet hole, he met resistance in the shape of a solid object. Upon further inspection, as his fingers peeled back the lips of Jenny's pussy, he realised the object was not solid at all, but none other than the celebrated and highly prized 'Golden Egg'. Well, wasn't this a turn for the books, he thought. The stables were about to become a lot more exciting with the new trainee on board.

  'Fetch me a bowl,' he yelled to no one in particular, and there was a general rush of bodies that began running to accomplish his request. 'In a moment,' he said to Jenny, 'you get to be the goose that lays the golden egg, although you needn't cluck for my benefit. I hope for your sake you've been a good girl.' He paused and took a moment to walk around her, examining her features in their entirety. This one was a little plump, but nothing that wouldn't be remedied in two weeks or less, and she had a reasonably good bone structure and a pretty face. She would be in demand. 'We take disobedience of any sort here at Albrecht Stables very seriously indeed.' He pressed his palm to her left buttock and squeezed all five of his digits into her flesh, in a claw shape. She shrieked. 'Just so we understand each other,' he murmured. 'You play nicely and we'll get along fine. Give me any trouble and, let's just say, Lucifer has nothing on the kind of torments I can provide you with.'

  'Mr A, your bowl, Sir,' a voice said from behind Jenny, its owner obviously out of breath.

  'Thank you, Lee. Go back to Peaches.'

  'Yes, Mr A. Thank you, Sir.' There were more running footsteps.

  'So, do we understand each other?'

  'Yes,' muttered Jenny, trying to lick away several errant bits of gluey porridge from her nose. Her tongue was just a smidgeon too short to reach them and she was going cross-eyed in her determined attempts to remove them.

  'Silence!' Mr A screamed and Jenny jumped, her eardrums ringing.

  'Ponies do not speak. Ever.' The way the man said 'speak' had Jenny thinking it was a crime of the gravest order. He slowly took off his glove and gave the flesh of her reddened backside a nasty pinch with finger and thumb. It had Jenny squeezing her eyes shut in agony. 'You do not open your mouth around here unless there is something that needs to be stuffed into it.' He pulled her left nipple clamp for emphasis. She sobbed. 'Nod your miserable head if you understand.' Her nipple was being stretched like a length of chewing gum, and it was all she could do to nod briefly in reply. 'Good.' He removed his hand and let the clamp ping back into place, where it promptly fell off, eliciting a loud gasp and a swiftly muffled yelp of pain. He then removed its twin with considerably more precision and watched as his victim choked on her squeal. 'That's much better.' He patted Jenny's backside, watched it buck as she tried to avoid his hand and then inserted the bowl between her thighs. 'The egg, if you please.' He rattled the dish between her legs in encouragement.

  Suddenly the sloshing of water stopped, the patter of feet went quiet and the creak of buckets being swung to and fro ceased abruptly. Great, thought Jenny. She was yet again the centre of attention. Even the ponies on either side of her, who were already silent, seemed to hold their breath. Fine, she thought, she'd play their game. They'd get theirs when she was rescued shortly. So, with her legs wide apart, and a cold ceramic bowl waiting patiently underneath her, she pushed. Trying to stem the heat that was spreading to her face, Jenny felt the egg begin to move. At first she had to strain quite hard, but with consistent pressure the reluctant egg began its journey downwards, breaching her inner walls. It was a struggle to get the egg past its widest point, but as soon as she had Mr A pulled it from her body. An embarrassing sucking noise ensued. The heat she'd been trying to stem flooded her face.

  'Well, look what we have here,' said Mr A. He did not sound disappointed. If anything, his voice was eager with excitement. He watched as Jenny's body sagged in relief. To the silent room he continued, 'What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is one very naughty pony who cannot follow the simplest of orders.' Jenny tensed. 'We, as an entire unit, need to demonstrate the error of her ways.' He clucked his tongue. Firstly there will be a communal punishment, of course, and then our errant little filly will complete a very personal penance, all of her own.' A chorus of displeased neighs and whinnies rang around the room. 'Oh, I know you lot have previously been led to believe that the first misdemeanour goes unpunished among the group members, but that was until today. This here,' he slapped Jenny's rump so hard her teeth snapped together, 'is a special pony and she'll need to wear the black in double-quick time. You've got lots of work on your hands, my darlings.' He laughed and dropped the empty filigree egg to the floor, where it bounced around on the concrete. 'We're about to have lots more fun around here, boys and girls.'

  His voice returned to its businesslike tone and loudspeaker volume. 'Well, what are you waiting for? Get this lot cleaned up, sharpish!' The feet stumbled over each other in their hurry to obey.

  Without warning cold water sloshed over Jenny. Her body immediately went into shiver mode. What the hell was wrong with the hot water tap around here? Jenny cursed every foul word under the sun, inside her head. She couldn't have spoken through the shivering, regardless.

  Next a big bar of the most abrasive soap she
had ever felt began to scour her body. Jenny could only be grateful that her leather mittens, which rested just above her ass, protected her hands. It was about the only area of her that didn't get a good scrubbing. The soap worked its way over and into her breasts, stomach and face, scrubbing the surface red raw, but at least it got rid of all the remaining porridge. It then worked her calves, thighs and buttocks and she nearly cried when her poor abused globes felt the sting of the caustic lye bar. What the hell was in it, acid? He then washed her hair with the foul-smelling stuff, but when the man began to insert his fingers, covered with the unpleasant soap, into her pussy, she neighed at the top of her lungs in protest. It seemed to be the only noise she could make in the stables that didn't include an immediate punishment. He ignored her. When he then proceeded to tug out the plug embedded in her ass and push his fingers in there she whinnied with all her might and stomped her hooves.

  'Don't like that, eh? Oh, I know it's a bit sore now, but by the time that greedy little hole of yours has been used several times a day it'll get used to plenty of rough treatment and this soap won't bother you so much. All the clients around here, not to mention the Masters, Mistresses, grooms and stable-hands, want those little holes squeaky clean before they use them, so you'll get used to being scrubbed down several times a day. We generally only use soap first thing though, so you'll just get a detergent solution douche throughout the rest of the day.' He swatted her ass as she wriggled to escape his prying fingers. 'You wiggle as much as you like; most of us are rather fond of that around here,' he said, laughing at her amusing attempts to evade his fingers.

  He delved them deeper inside her. The wriggling softened as her body became aroused. 'You like that, huh?' His slippery fingers slid over her pussy lips and gave her clit a little tap. Jenny couldn't help making a meek little moan of encouragement. 'I can see you're going to be as bad as the rest of 'em, always desperate for a large cock or some such thing to be stuffed into all of your available orifices. The good news is that's probably what you're gonna get. You'll be a horny little thing around here, that's for sure. Now let's give these tits a good massage.' His fingers worked the soft skin of her breasts, rubbing and kneading before moving on to her sensitised nipples. He used mild pressure at first, soothing the poor little nubs, but gradually he increased the pressure of his fingers around them, nipping and pulling until she was squirming delightedly. When one hand reached back beneath her to fondle and tug her clit, Jenny was sure she was about to come, her mouth opened in an 'O' shape in preparation for her scream of enjoyment.

  Her groom was grinning from his position at her rear. Removing both hands and picking up a bucket of water, he unceremoniously sloshed the icy contents over her vulnerable body. Jenny screamed all right, but not with pleasure.

  Angel

  The crackle of static was loud but the voice remained intelligible.

  'The Angel is in place, Sir.'

  There was a pause and a shuffling of papers, before several loud thumps could be heard.

  'Sir, are you OK?'

  There was another, longer pause.

  'Yes I'm fine, thank you. Which one is in place?' The response was firm but unhurried.

  'Well, let's just say it's not the favourite, Sir.'

  'Good Lord. How interesting. I trust you'll keep on top of new developments for me?'

  'It's what I do best, Sir. Over and out.'

  Michael Redcliff looked down at his previously pristine pile of first editions, scattered randomly all over the floor and now not quite as beautiful as they once were. No matter. News such as this deserved to be celebrated. He dialled the intercom on his cordless telephone handset and waited.

  The recipient picked up the call after a single dial tone. 'K, darling, I can report good news. Another part of the plan has slotted into place nicely. We'll both be getting exactly what we want soon, and not before time, in my opinion.' There was a bubble of chatter into his earpiece. 'Why so impatient, my dear? You can work someone else over in the meantime to curb that nasty mind of yours. I will be.' He depressed the button to end the conversation and clicked the handset back into place on its charger.

  It could be said that he was a man who rarely smiled, whether given cause or no. The delicate curve now forming at the corners of his lips wasn't entirely sure if it was welcome, but it couldn't help making an appearance, nonetheless.

  Fitted and Bitted

  Shivering, her body moving in jagged ripples like a wind-torn flower petal, Jenny was dragged from the breakfast room by her leash. Her groom, who had introduced himself as Daniel, had promptly tied her to a sturdy wooden post and left, giving no idea of what was to come or where he was going. The good news was that he had forgotten to replace her plug; the bad news was that a fine mist of drizzle had begun to seep from the skies and coat her body, succeeding in chilling her thoroughly to the bone.

  Pulling fretfully at the chain with her collared neck, it didn't take her long to realise that not only were her actions pointless, they would also result in whiplash if she wasn't careful. Even though her hands were still clipped behind her back, she began banging her leather mitts together as hard as she could and jogging gently on the spot to keep warm. She hoped the sun would make an appearance soon. Even though it was only the end of August the temperature had not risen above ten degrees and her breath made a slight fog in the air.

  To alleviate the boredom of being tied to a post and rendered immobile, she tried to crane her neck backwards over her high collar and peer into the barn. It was virtually impossible, so she had to settle for listening keenly. There were plenty of noises coming from its direction. Excitable ones for the most part and judging by the grooms, who were running backwards and forwards with strips of dangling leather in their arms, the ponies were now being fitted into their tack.

  'Jealous?'

  Jenny's head snapped around to find Daniel had reappeared behind her. Unfastening her leash from the post he gave it a sharp tug to indicate she should follow him. As he was considerably bigger than she was his tug had her stumbling forward, metal hooves clunking against the uneven cobblestones that decorated the space between several of the stable buildings.

  'Don't worry,' he said, turning back to look at her with a leering grin on his face. 'You'll be getting yourself prettied up in just a few minutes. We're now off to the tack room, as it happens. I know your sort. Can't wait for all yer holes to be plugged with something plump and fat, can you? You want those titties covered in leather and their buds pinched tightly with little clamps, so you jingle sweetly and announce every step you make. You want that rubber bit between your teeth and you want to be slobbering and begging for cock. I bet you can't wait to feel your new tail dangling...'

  Jenny screamed. She had no idea why she hadn't done so earlier. This awful place was beginning to mess with her head. There was no gag in her mouth and nothing to stop her yelling at the top of her lungs. 'Help me! There's been an awful mistake. Please get me out of here!' Shouting as loud as her vocal chords would let her, it was a disappointing effort as the wind whipped most of the sound away. Straining her neck in its ridiculously large collar she tried to survey the area, but it remained desolate and not a single soul bothered to peer around a corner and see what all the fuss was about. There was only one person who seemed at all perturbed by her outburst, and that was Daniel, who was now wearing a look of incredulous disbelief.

  'You stupid piece of horseflesh! What the fuck do you think you're doing?' He slapped her cheek. Hard.

  The stinging blow blindsided her and she fell to her knees, her precarious balance immediately lost. Searing pain from the heavy impact assaulted her kneecaps, and for a moment she wondered if she would fall flat on her face. It took a few seconds, but she managed to keep her torso vertical. Her eyes began to fill with tiny sparks of pure fury. As if to goad Daniel further she turned her other cheek to face him.

  He looked at her incredulously. 'Are you trying to get us in trouble? They'll cane the flesh fro
m both our bones if they catch you opening your gob. All you'll succeed in doing is making sure they're forced to silence you, and believe me when I say you won't like their tactics. You've already earned two punishments so far today, I wouldn't be so quick to be courting a third.' Shaking his head in disgust he hauled her up from the floor and keeping a tight grip on her leash, marched her straight to the tack room and shoved her inside, so anxious was he to get rid of her. The door was then slammed shut in her face.

  Jenny listened to the sound of his booted feet stomping away and felt his handprint throb against her cheek. Resting it against the cool wood of the door, alleviating the pain somewhat, she found herself reluctant to turn around. The smell of leather, polish and antiseptic were already assailing her nostrils, and they were not comforting scents. Eventually she managed to summon enough courage to face the music, or the silence, as it happened.

  The first thing she noticed was that there was nobody inside. Having ascertained that fact, she immediately went back to the door and banged into it with her backside, seeing if there was a chance it might open. The heavy wooden door didn't move an inch and her ass exploded in pain.

  Think, Jenny, think! But try as she might, kicking at it with her hooves and knocking it in an awkward backward position with her mittens achieved no greater effect. The door was locked and she was trapped.

  Check for exits. Careful to walk slowly and maintain her balance, fully aware that if she stumbled she would not be able to right herself, Jenny began to explore her surroundings. Concentrating solely on looking for an escape route and trying not to let her eyes linger on the various bits of human-pony tack that decorated the walls and floors, she eventually found what she was looking for just past the line of brightly coloured collars. White, yellow, blue, green, orange, red and black; what did they mean? Shaking her head to rid it of thoughts she wouldn't need, her eyes settled on the door just past the long shelf; the only additional door the room contained. It had a handle. Of course it had a handle, but how on earth did you open it with both arms clipped behind your back? With your teeth, perhaps? In the end the dilemma was solved for her, as when she bent to grip the metal handle with her mouth the door moved. Someone had obviously forgotten to close it.