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

by C. P. Mandara

  As her groom made short work of untying her, Jenny realised her task was going to be nigh on impossible. Two laps around a four hundred metre course would have been difficult enough, but with the load her wagon had stashed in the rear it was a safe bet to say she would be going nowhere fast. Nevertheless, the cart was fastened around her waist and threaded through loops that had been specially designed inside her leather corset. A simple lever upon each bar of her cart, running in front of her waist, secured her body to the contraption. Daniel was taking the strain of the weight for her at the moment, probably to give her a fighting chance when the signal was given. She didn't think much of her prospects.

  Mr Black Shirt fired a gun into the air to announce the start, and that was the most exciting part of the race as far as Jenny was concerned. When Daniel let go of the handles around one hundred and sixty kilos of weight dragged down on her hips, and it nearly crippled her. Watching as the other ponies flew along the course, their suitcases bumping and bouncing in the back, Jenny struggled with all her might just to get her cart to move forward a few inches. She managed three tiny steps before her body began to shake with the effort of keeping the cart upright.

  'A little ambitious in our packing, were we?' Mr Black Shirt made her jump as he approached her from behind. 'You're not going to be earning your yellow today, are you?' Jenny dug her teeth into her bit and wished she could form a sharp retort to that comment. 'No. I think the only thing you're going to be earning today is an extra ten strokes of the crop at bedtime and a black mark towards a dungeon visit. Tsk, tsk. He slapped her backside hard and she couldn't help a squeak of pain.

  Turning his attention to Daniel Mr Black Shirt said, 'Unhitch her. You'll need to work this one as hard as you can every day in order for her to lug that cart round here twice and get off the mark. She'll earn an additional ten strokes for each day she doesn't complete it.' Daniel nodded.

  Black Shirt returned his attention to the field where all the other ponies had now managed to complete at least one lap of the circuit. 'Right, off you go. They've had a bit of a head start, but you've got considerably less of a load to carry so by the end of the challenge you should be fair and square.' When she didn't immediately put one hoof in front of the other he slapped her ass again and shouted, 'Move!'

  Sprinting as fast as she could away from the vicious hand, all Jenny could hear in the background was, 'That one is none too smart, is she?' Her annoyance at his sharp words let her finish the two laps much quicker than her unfit, corseted body would have managed normally, but she still came in last. Trying to run with very little air in your lungs and a pair of heavy metal horseshoes on your feet wasn't easy. On the last lap, when her lungs were burning and her breath rasping in torment, she watched as a procession of oiled pony boys began to march up towards the finish line. Taught muscles and firm thighs jogged in perfect tandem along the wet grass. All wore bells upon their cocks and fastened within their tales, but they were a shiny gold in colour, rather than the silver the females wore. Much bigger than the tiny bells Jenny had on her person, they rang out in sweet, almost melodic tunes, as no two were the same size.

  The first thing that caught her attention was that their cocks already stood proud and magnificently tall in their intricate webbing. All sported gold cock rings encircling the base of their penis to make sure their members continued to stand erect. She almost dribbled as the beautiful specimens came to an abrupt halt and formed a straight line.

  As Jenny had come in last there was only one pony boy left, and she was damned if she could figure out why he'd been unclaimed. His body had muscles stacked one on top of the other and, keeping with the Roman theme, a gladiator would have been proud to call him friend. Angling up to him, she began to wonder what the hell she was doing. Rescue would be coming soon. It would be here. The question was: would it be in time to prevent her crawling through a field of nettles? As she had no idea, the safest option was to play their game for the time being. It was no great hardship. She'd always enjoyed giving head. Normally she liked to play a different game and see how long she could drag their orgasm out, but the challenge of making the burly pony boy in front of her come within a few minutes was an inspiring one. Once she clamped her lips around his cock and began to work him over, he'd be chomping upon his bit. Which reminded her, sucking cock was going to be a problem as she still had a rubber bit between her teeth. She would also be required to kneel and that was going to be interesting with her thigh-high pony-boots.

  Jenny needn't have worried because a flurry of grooms came up behind each pony girl, in the order they had finished the race, and began removing their bridles and lowering them gently to the ground. The sound of leather creaking and groaning could be heard everywhere for several seconds, but it wasn't long before slurping and sucking noises swiftly overtook them.

  Even though Jenny was the last to begin sucking, she had little doubt that she'd achieve her goal. She'd had lots of practise, after all. Clamping her mouth around the magnificent member in front of her, she slowly lathered saliva around every inch of deliciously swollen, silky flesh. There must have been a good nine inches to lubricate, so she worked as fast as her lips would allow. He was quite a mouthful. Starting with long swift strokes, Jenny tried her best to deep-throat him. It was nearly impossible because he was just too big, in both the length and the girth department. She let her tongue flick along the underside of his penis. Her pony boy coughed and his penis nearly flew out of her mouth. What on earth had happened? Pulling back in shock, Jenny discovered that his particular cock-ring had a leather leash attached to it and someone had obviously just given it a good yank. Ah, that would be the evil Mistress then.

  Diving straight back on the straining flesh in front of her, Jenny let her eyes wander downwards, and running up her pony boy's inner thigh was the pointed tip of a high-heeled leather boot. It was moving towards the poor boy's balls. Jenny angled her face more squarely on her target and was rewarded with a sharp nudge on her chin, but at least she still stood a chance at making him climax. Pumping her head up and down furiously, she let her tongue flick around the head of his shaft before letting it swirl and dip into the middle. She adored the lovely, salty taste of pre-cum, but before she had a chance to savour it further a sharp crack resounded through the air. The poor guy jerked cruelly backwards and Jenny nearly took a bite out of him, just managing to sheath her teeth. He wasn't the only one getting a hard time though, because plenty more swishes and smacks could be heard in the background, most of which were accompanied by heavy groans. She'd been concentrating so fiercely on her task that she hadn't heard them until now.

  Jenny increased the speed of her sucking and waited for a reaction. A single grunt was all the reward she had for her troubles. She sucked tighter. He didn't move a single one of his many muscles. She sucked harder. Finally she had her groan, but his cock was once again yanked from her mouth and his backside was cropped, judging by the fierce thwack she heard. Then an almighty roar sounded to the left of her and from the corner of her eye, Jenny could see another pony boy's cock pumping its load into the back of a competitor's throat. When he'd finished the pony girl in question slowly drew her mouth down his cock and kept her lips firmly closed. So, someone had their prize.

  It spurred Jenny on to new heights. She dragged her cock right to the back of her throat and slammed her jaw against him, ignoring the gagging that ensued; again and again she bounced her throat off him, faster and faster, twisting her head around his cock this way and that to get a good rhythm going. She had another drop of pre-cum to savour for her efforts. There was another roar, another jerking body, but this time to the right of her. Jenny was beginning to feel like a miserable amateur. What was wrong with her guy? One after the other the pony boys began to shoot their load and buckle under expert female tongues, but hers remained stubbornly aloof. It would be just her luck to have picked the man with balls of steel.

  'Your time is up, fillies.' Sir Lyle clapped his hands to signal an
end to the festivities. Defeat did not sit well with Jenny, and she did not want to relinquish the cock inside of her mouth.

  'P, you slutty whore, let the boy go!' Sir Lyle grabbed a handful of hair from the top of Jenny's head and had to use considerable force to pull her face off the pony boy's cock. 'There, there, P. No hard feelings. You'll learn.' He patted her rump condescendingly. Inwardly she seethed, but judging by the manic look in Black Shirt's eye she sensibly decided he was not a man to mess with.

  Sir Lyle went down the line of pony girls and inspected the contents of each of their mouths. Every single one of them, without exception, was filled to the brim with creamy, salty goo. Jenny was not amused. She had just been labelled the most miserable cock-sucker within the group. She didn't even get the chance to pout in annoyance as Daniel quickly shoved the bit into her mouth and refastened her bridle. The other ponies received the same treatment after they had proved their worth.

  There was another clap of hands and the pony boys were led away. All had their heads drooping with defeat, bar the stoic, robust specimen of masculinity that Jenny had attempted to suck. He held his head high and his petite Mistress, resplendent in bright red PVC, was petting his back in an affectionate manner.

  'Well, that was delightful to behold, ponies!' Sir Lyle nodded his head, thoroughly pleased for the most part. 'With the exception of P you've all managed to do Albrecht proud.' There were several loud neighs that Jenny assumed were happy, but without the actual smile it was difficult to tell. 'P, you will be required to suck at least five different cocks a day and spend an additional hour every afternoon in the training room with the practise dildo's until you're up to standard.' Sir Lyle looked at Daniel and he nodded his understanding. 'Don't look too disappointed, P. At least you've managed to join your friends on team nettle, which is only fair considering it was you that gave them the forfeit in the first place.' He relinquished a particularly vicious smile in Jenny's direction, and if Daniel hadn't been gripping her reins she might have been tempted to storm over in his direction and direct her knee somewhere sensitive. At least that option was still available to her.

  Another clap of hands indicated he wanted everyone's full attention. 'OK, we're finished here. Let's fall out and head over to the fallow field at the rear of the exercise yard. 'Ponies, get those lips puckered up and teeth ready to chomp. This is going to be lots of fun.' Sir Lyle swung around on his heel and the pony girls had to swing in smartly behind him, courtesy of a lot of heavy-handed grooms.

  Feeling the bit drag at the back of her lips uncomfortably, Jenny marched with the rest of them and prayed for a miracle.

  Not two minutes later her prayers had been answered. The sound of helicopter blades cut noisily through the air.

  The Call of Duty

  Dear Isabelle

  Just a quick note to wish you luck with the auction invitations. I hear that Albrecht may have a full house at this year's celebration and this is no doubt down to your admirable administration and interpersonal skills.

  May I request one more favour from your amiable self? Using any means you deem necessary, please see to it that Matthews does not manage to acquire my daughter as his new trainee. Any other trainer is acceptable to me, but not Matthews. As to the secondary auction, I am happy for him to waste his money, should he so desire.

  I will see to it that you are amply rewarded for your efforts.

  Michael Redcliff

  CEO Synstyte Petroleum

  Isabelle didn't often swear, but the single word 'merde' left her lips involuntarily. Screwing the offending letter into a small ball and throwing it in her wastepaper basket did nothing to ease her temper. What was she supposed to do? Tie Matthews up? Slash his tyres? Threaten to spank him? For goodness sake, she didn't have any leverage over the man and the prospect of a blowjob from her, albeit very talented lips, wasn't going to mean much when the man had a whole office full of very accomplished sluts. Scraping her fingernails across the grain of her beautiful oak desk, she let out a groan of frustration. This was yet another worry to add to an already rapidly growing pile.

  Firstly, she had a mountain of paperwork on her desk that was going nowhere fast. Having tried time and time again to make sense of it all, she had ended up slamming it down in defeat. Worry and angst were eating away at her. Having indebted herself to what she assumed was a handsome, delightfully-good-in-bed, boy-next-door type gentleman, she'd discretely enquired as to Kyle Levison's sexual preferences within the hotel kitchen - all manner of gossip could be obtained there - and found out that the news was not at all good. Although the information Isabelle had on Kyle, such as lady-killer, impressive cock, good in bed etc. seemed to be somewhat accurate, she had missed one important detail when listening to the rumours of others. The very important point she had missed was: Kyle was a sadist. This was not just very troubling, it was a disaster. Isabelle was not good with pain. To be perfectly frank, she fainted at the sight of a few drops of blood, so she needed to find out just what plans Kyle had for their little soiree before her anxiety levels made her scour the internet for Prozac. This was the very reason she steered clear of office relationships. There were too many meanies and not enough good guys at Albrecht, and wasn't that the story of her life?

  Damn it to hell, she was going to have fun wriggling her way out of this one, of that she was sure. Still, all was not lost. Yet. She had messages to deliver for Petal's auctioning and Kyle was on her list of interested parties. Perhaps she could talk some sense into him and invite him back to her place for coffee. A debt was indeed a debt, and she liked to pay her dues, but there was a limit. She was an independent woman with a mind of her own, and she would easily talk her way out of this nonsense. Maybe they could work something out in regards to Petal, although from what she'd heard the girl was reported to be as stubborn and pig-headed as her darling father.

  Holding her head high she took a step forward on her cream stilettos, and then another. It wasn't that hard. Now all she had to do was make it to the dungeon, which was where Kyle was 'correcting' the behaviour of an errant pony girl. Please don't let it be too awful, Isabelle thought, resisting the urge to place her head within her hands.

  Kyle was enjoying himself far too much. He had a thing about glossy latex. He had another thing about zips. He had another thing altogether about what to do with the hidden delights beneath them. The pony in question, he had no idea what her name was, was dressed from head to toe in a cherry-red catsuit. A full hood covered her head and there was a single zip over her mouth. She had two sets of twin holes that punctured the hood; one pair for her eyes and the other to enable her to breathe. She had been polished to within an inch of her life. The girl gleamed. So much so that she could have started a fire if placed in direct sunlight.

  His girl wasn't going to be seeing much sunshine today, though. At the moment she was chained to the St Andrews cross with her arms and legs splayed as wide as they would go. The zip that ran down the centre of her catsuit, from her surgically enhanced breasts to her crotch, strained at the seams and almost begged to be opened to ease the tension it was creating. All in good time, he thought.

  Pulling down a five foot bullwhip from the left hand wall, he coiled the supple braided leather around his hand. He shouldn't really be using it, still somewhat of an amateur with it, but how was he ever going to get better if he didn't practise? Some dominants used beer cans, others trees or posts, but Kyle had no patience for such things. Where was the fun in cracking a beer can in two? There were no shocked gasps and no screams; beer cans did not bleed and they did not cry. So Kyle had decided to practise on the real thing, which was a damn site more entertaining. It wasn't as if he was going to get into trouble. He was in charge and he could do what he liked, when he liked.

  Placing his thumb forward on the handle he cocked the length of the whip behind him and brought it forward. It made a delightful crack in the air and the little submissive horsie on the X-frame whimpered through her latex hood. It was a lovely s
ound. He cracked it again through the air, just for the pleasure of watching her wince. Oh, how he wished he could play with the twelve foot bullwhip that took pride of place on the centre of the dungeon's back wall. Still, you had to start small and work your way up to these things. He'd probably need to work his way through a few test subjects before he was ready for that baby.

  Ah, well. Walking slowly towards his victim he revealed a thin, cruel smile. He wanted to subject her to a taste of the whip before he played with her. That way, when he pulled it out again at the end of their session, she'd really know what was coming for her. He drew it through the air again, just for the pleasure of watching his pony's eyes, which were now white with fear. Oh, how he loved his work. The tiny sobs and the distressed look of horror were making him hard. It was time to test his aim. Using the 'Cattleman's Crack', which was the most basic way to crack a whip, he aimed for his subject's thigh.

  The whip struck high and landed just above her hipbone. The girl gave a shocked gasp of horror as the whip cleanly sliced the latex of her suit and burrowed into the flesh beneath. It took a moment before the pain of the crack registered, and then she shrieked and struggled madly in her bonds. It only served to arouse Kyle further.

  Annoyed his aim had gone awry, he immediately drew the whip back to have another shot at his target. Fuelled afresh by her pain, he aimed lower and repeated the standard cracking motion. The submissive vented another shriek, louder than the first and this time her latex suit was shredded at the knee joint. He swore. Mastering the skill of bullwhipping was going to take a lot longer than he anticipated. If he managed to bag a delightful trainee at the upcoming auction, then he would have all the practise material he needed. She would be his to whip morning, noon and night if so desired, and the thought was appealing. Cutting Miss Redcliff down to size would be an enviable task indeed, and he had decided that he was the man for the job. Whipping that pretty ass into shape would involve no hardship on his part.