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

by C. P. Mandara

  Having turned on her computer and tried to think thoughts that were asexual in nature, she'd become increasingly concerned as the slow trickle of fluid refused to ebb. Fidgeting upon her chair, she pouted. Soon there would be a wet patch on the seat of her dress. That would be highly attractive. Wondering how long he'd make her sit there she decided she'd probably be soaked through by the time she was summoned. There was the option of running to the ladies and wadding up some tissue paper, but how elegant would that look when he undressed her? She couldn't very well take little dabs at herself in the office because she'd practically have to hitch her skirt to waist height to accomplish the task. Squeezing her vaginal muscles together tightly and holding the image of Homer Simpson in her head, she'd had some small success at controlling her urges. She'd even managed to have a short conversation with her best friend, the pot plant. Then Matthews had started dashing this way and that around the office and all of her best intentions had fled. When he finally shouted her name she stood up guiltily, as if he already knew what state her body had managed to twist itself into. All she could think of was how quickly she could manoeuvre him into having sex with her. What a laugh that was. You didn't manoeuvre Mark anywhere, especially in the bedroom antics department.

  Pushing open the door to his office she crept inside and gingerly placed her backside into a sculpted, art nouveau hardwood chair that had been painstakingly carved out of a single piece of wood. The thing had probably cost a small fortune. Her ass protested at the hard contact, but it was only a passing grumble. There was some spring in the chair and the motion helped to calmed her a little. The thing wasn't going to stop her hands shaking; she'd need valium for that. At least she knew she was in the right place. It was the only additional chair in the room. Now she could only hope her backside generated enough heat to dry the underside of her dress. Trying her hardest to remember her training, which demanded she looked poised and elegant at all times, she fought a battle to stop herself fidgeting with her hands. Breathing deeply, she tried to maintain an aura of serenity.

  'You are allowed two minutes in which to bring yourself to orgasm, Marianna. Failure will result in a forfeit of my choosing. I will, of course, be watching.'

  Tranquillity, calmness and serenity flew out of the window and took a fifty-story dive to the ground below. Mark had entered the office silently and not bothered to close the door. Seating himself at his desk, he gave her a wide grin and pointedly looked at his watch. Marianna's breath caught in her throat and the damp patch on her dress, if possible, managed to get even bigger.

  Mark returned his attention to the computer in front of him and the sound of his agile fingers tapping away in earnest could be heard.

  Marianna's initial response was panic. The door was open and anyone could walk in. Yes, it was early, but there was always a chance of discovery. He'd done it on purpose. Still, what did that matter? He owned her body for at least the next three years, and she was his to do with as he pleased. It was clear the man wanted to play. Well, that was just fine with her. If his eyes weren't all over her at the end of the upcoming show she'd eat her panties. Er... actually she'd have to eat someone else's panties, but that was by the by. Focus Marianna, focus.

  Standing tall and straddling the chair between her lithe legs, Marianna began to delicately pull her dress upwards. Sliding the material up her body, inch by inch, cradling her breasts seductively as the fabric moved higher, she slowly revealed a pair of black lace stocking tops and the tips of a black suspender belt. Mark didn't even spare a glance at her. How flattering.

  Bunching the fabric of her dress up and pulling it over her head, she figured she might as well have a good time. It looked like it was going to be feast or famine in the orgasm department, so she'd better to make hay while the sun shined. The dress sailed to the floor with a single flick of her wrist.

  Closing her eyes, she raised supple arms above her head and stretched out cat-like, allowing her breasts to thrust forward. Bringing her right arm down elegantly, she brought two fingers to her lips and slowly dragged them into her mouth. Sucking on them, like the sweetest of lollipops, she used her tongue to liberally coat them in saliva. Turning her fingers sideways, as if to save the precious, lubricating drops from harm, she traced an anfractuous path down her body and let her hips move from side to side, as if to ease the path of her slippery digits as they moved lower, towards the burning heat of her core. If this was the way Matthews wanted to play, so be it. She was just going to appreciate the chance to chase a couple of endorphins. She was to orgasms as a fish was to the sea. Addicted to the act, delirious in its presence and fully aware of the pleasure her body could give and receive. When her fingers reached her clit she rubbed furiously. Already aroused, this was an act that wouldn't take long.

  Even though his eyes were not upon her, he observed Marianna discreetly, out of the corner of his eye. Her naked body was as fragile as it was delicate. She had not been eating properly, if the sharp definition of her ribcage was any indication. He would see to that. Watching those big green eyes close, he itched to make her open them again. Closing your eyes, in his book, was cheating. He stifled the instinct. He'd let her do as she pleased this one time; God only knew she'd probably earned it. He'd turned the pressure up and she was dealing with it in the best way she knew how. As of yet, she hadn't disappointed.

  Her long, fuchsia-pink nails scraped down either side of her naked labia, before delving between the folds and letting them tease her inner flesh with the gentlest of caresses. Dipping them inside her pussy, she groaned aloud as the move caused her hips to gyrate. Steadying herself with one hand on the back of the wooden rocking chair, she used the other to finger her already engorged clit to the best of her ability. Even though she knew it was not the case, she imagined Mark's eyes all over her body, drinking her in, breathing hard and imagining how he could best put her body to use in a few minutes' time. Thighs honed from enforced workouts with a personal trainer began to lunge up and down as her back slid up against the smooth frame of the hardwood chair. Fingers sank into her core, over and over, as her body bounced up and down expertly on high heels. The chair rocked back and forth, with precarious abandon. Her long chocolate curls tumbled over her face, wisps of which caught against the wax of her lip gloss, but she barely even noticed. Her ample breasts bounced up and down, her nipples hardened into deep red berries and her loins burning. Even if they'd been on fire she couldn't have stopped her fingers from continuing their onward journey.

  'Time's up.'

  Marianna screamed. Her fingers wobbled unsteadily on her clit. He had to be joking. 'Please,' she begged.

  'Your two minutes is up, Marianna. Hands by your sides or I'll be forced to handcuff them behind your back. If you disobey me in this, I will leave you naked and spread-eagled on the middle of the floor outside my office, so your colleagues may witness my displeasure at your performance.'

  She let out a sob of frustration.

  'You've managed to go without orgasms for nearly two years, Marianna. I should think a few hours will be a piece of cake.' His eyes twinkled dangerously. He dared her to defy him.

  Slowly straightening her fingers from the claw shapes they had formed, she managed to move them to her sides. He was not joking. She'd seen several of her colleagues displayed in such a fashion in her time at Zystrom, and she did not want to be one of them. Taking a shaky breath, she opened her eyes and faced him.

  'Good girl.' He got to his feet, walked around his desk and bending over in his custom-made sartorial splendour, picked up her dress. He lifted it to his face and inhaled deeply. 'Such a beautiful smell,' he said, with heavily lidded eyes. Handing her the fabric he couldn't resist adding, 'And it's rather flattering to know you're so desperate for my attention.'

  Marianna could have groaned, but she resisted the impulse. These were the joys of being a submissive. As long as she was in Matthews' set of headlights there would be no privacy or secrets.

  As the material settled in h
er hands his fingers accidentally brushed her elbow and an arc of electricity shot up her arm. She schooled her features. She would not let him have any more of her today.

  'Your forfeit is to go and find me breakfast, sweetness. Get me fruit and lots of it. Full of anti-oxidants and good for my health, I hear.' His back was to her, as he was already returning to his desk, but he was pretty sure she'd detected humour in his voice. To hurry her along, he added, 'Quickly, Marianna, I'm hungry.' The tone of his voice left no doubt as to what he was hungry for, and it wasn't fruit.

  Marianna was not amused. It was 7.30 a.m. and even though Zystrom was in the heart of London, grocery stores were not in plentiful supply at this ridiculous hour. Add stupid heels that were not made for walking, a coat that was made for effect rather than warmth, a wet backside and the additional lack of a warm layer of undergarments and you had one unhappy submissive. Yet another car honked its horn as it worked its way through London traffic. The gentleman in question had even wound down his window and added, 'Nice pair of legs, love.' If he'd said, 'Fancy a fuck?' she might have cried.

  Up ahead in the distance a corner shop looked promising. She could see bright light spilling onto the street and another customer ahead had already managed to wrestle his way in through the door, by wedging himself between several newspaper stands. There was a fifty-fifty chance it would sell fruit. As she'd seen little in the way of other options she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, including some needed warmth. Grabbing the lapels of her coat tighter around her neck, she entered the store and felt eyes upon her; beady eyes watching her every move. It wasn't because the assistant behind the till expected her to steal anything; the cut of her clothes and the designer handbag would disabuse him of that notion. He had other things on his mind.

  'Can I help you, Miss?' The rough cockney accent of the youth made her smile.

  The gentleman who had walked in the store before her and who was hurriedly searching the aisles for something himself, looked a little disgruntled to have his position in the queue so easily usurped.

  'Yes please. I don't suppose you sell fruit?'

  'There's a fridge at the back with sandwiches, snacks, soft fruit and the like. Would you like any help?'

  Mr Unhappy, who was now a few metres away and looking decidedly cross heard her replying, 'No, thank you. I'll be back in a minute.' She smiled her thousand kilowatt smile at the assistant, whose jaw dropped in awe, and marched hurriedly away.

  When she reached the small refrigerator there wasn't a great deal of interest; plenty of sandwiches, some sausage rolls and right in the corner, a couple of apples, some bananas and a few punnets of strawberries. They would have to do. Paying for the items quickly, almost laughing when the assistant dropped her credit card in his rush to help her, she took the proffered carrier bag and rushed back to serve her Master breakfast. She could only hope the meagre offerings would suffice.

  Knocking at Matthews' door for permission to enter, he immediately waved her inside. Taking the carrier bag from the tips of her fingers, he laid the contents on his desk.

  'Straddle the chair with your back to me.'

  His voice sounded terse. Perhaps her little shopping trip had given him an appetite. One could only hope, thought Marianna wistfully. Doing as he asked, she waited in silence for his next instruction. None were forthcoming. Hearing the rustle of plastic on his desk, she guessed he was going to eat something first. Her thoughts were confirmed when she heard the sound of an apple being sliced in two. Her fingers tightened over the top of the chair back. She could feel the grain of the wood beneath her fingertips and absentmindedly smoothed her fingers along its surface in an effort to relieve her inactivity.

  'Itching to move so soon, Miss Morreau?' When he murmured her surname he used the French intonation, rolling the double 'r', and it sent a shiver right through her.

  'Yes,' she whispered back. He began to peel her dress back up over her stockinged legs and as he reached the smooth, uncovered flesh of her upper thighs, he let his hands roam.

  'Lean forward and push your bottom out,' he whispered in her ear.

  Marianna obliged.

  'Beautiful. I see your dress has dried somewhat. Pity.' Mark bunched the fabric upward with the heels of his hands and revealed a pair of deliciously pink, naked buttocks. 'Cold outside, was it?'

  She was aware that he was amusing himself at her expense, but also horribly distracted as both his hands had begun to snake underneath her backside. He inserted them between her legs and used them to splay her apart. His tongue traced a path down the delicate dip in her ass cheeks, which quivered in response. 'At least I won't need to ask if you're wet.' Pressing something cold against her pussy, he began to slide it along her sex. She squawked and instantly tried to close her legs.

  'Tsk, tsk. Naughty behaviour like that is rewarded like this.' He gave her rear end a firm swat with the flat of his hand. It stung his palm, so the chit had certainly felt it. At any rate, she seemed to take the lesson on board, keeping her body nice and still as he gradually pushed the item inside her. Using one finger to tease her clit, he burrowed the item deep into her flesh.

  Marianna could hear the sounds of fingers being sucked and licked clean. What on earth was he up to? As his fingers once again pressed for entry at her core she tried to concentrate on the shape of the object being inserted, but other than ascertaining the item was cold and slightly wet, she remained clueless. He repeated the process three times and then backed away from her. Desperately wanting to ask what the item was, but daring not to use her voice unless express permission had been granted, she held her silence. She used her vaginal walls to clamp tightly on the objects jammed inside her and was rewarded with a cold trickle of liquid, which streamed down her leg.

  'Hold them gently, Marianna. I don't want to have to eat mush.' A single hand began to prize her ass cheeks apart and with the other he wedged little slices of something, similarly cold, between her buttocks. If she wasn't much mistaken they were sturdy slices of apple, which were being held in place by little more than the curve of her ass. That meant he'd squeezed either strawberries or pieces of banana inside her. It appeared she was going to be breakfast, along with the fruit.

  Approaching the front of her sublimely stretched body, Mark smiled at the expression on her face. It was an interesting cross between apprehension and lust. When her eyes immediately searched for his hands he knew she had figured his plan out. He slowly peeled his banana in three long slices and pulled it from its nesting place.

  'Suck.'

  Her slick lips opened on a moan. Using a gentle mouth, she drew the soft length inside her.

  'Not bad, Marianna, but you need to do better. Suck, my pretty little thing, suck.' To give the girl her due she did exactly that, although she managed to gag at the end of her efforts. It wouldn't do her any harm. There was little more than quarter of the banana left outside her mouth and that was exactly how he liked it. 'Don't move.'

  Marianna was hardly going to start running about the place with various soft and squishy pieces of fruit decorating nearly every orifice. Whilst the office staff wouldn't be particularly shocked at seeing her run around naked, she might get a few stares with half an apple stuck into the crevice of her backside. Maintaining her position with as much precision as she could muster, and thinking that she really wouldn't mind having half a banana for her breakfast, her carefully honed eardrums heard the sound of whittling. Matthews had his knife out again. What was he up to now? She didn't have to wait long to find out. The first thing he did on his return was place circles of fruit, which must have been either banana or strawberry, along the ridges of her lower spine. Then she felt something thick and sticky being poured over her back.

  'It's honey. I like my fruit sweet and my submissives even sweeter.' The statement was accompanied by a chuckle.

  Marianna was glad someone was laughing. Honey was now being trickled down her ass cheeks and thick globs dripped to the chair below. Someone was going
to have lots of fun clearing up this mess. Marianna could only be glad that the office toilets contained showers because she was certainly going to need one after this little episode.

  'And now for the piece de resistance,' Mark said, and there was a lilt to his voice that Marianna did not like. The next thing she knew something was pressed against her sphincter. Oh God. The man was twisting what had to be a small cylindrical piece of apple into her rectum. The honey made his job considerably easier. He applied pressure for a minute or two before the apple slotted soundly inside her. All conscious thought disappeared and she moaned in heat.

  Mark stood back to admire his breakfast. She was fresh and hopefully ready to be plucked, bitten, sucked, chewed and swallowed. He intended to do each and every one of those actions on her body before he'd finished his meal. Smiling, as her ass squirmed at the intrusion of his carefully constructed 'apple cork', he took two elastic bands out of his trouser pocket. Squeezing a hand under the top of her dress, he pulled on her nipple and was rewarded with a groan of protest. Pinching the nub between thumb and forefinger he pulled gently. When the point had hardened he began to wrap the elastic around it, over and over. He repeated the action on the other side.