The Riding School

by C. P. Mandara

  Fishing her earplugs out and throwing them in the general direction of the bin, Hetty sighed. 'That's better. Are you getting the scissors out or am I?' she asked. Agnes didn't reply. Shaking her head, she tapped her on the arm and pointed to her ears. Agnes got the message.

  'Sorry Hetty, did you say something?'

  'I said, are you getting the scissors or shall I?' Henrietta made cutting motions with her fingers.

  'Oh, right. I'll do it and you can write down the details, if that's all right. Hetty didn't bother to respond, searching around for her pencil which had somehow disappeared. Pulling out another one from her hair, she frowned as a curly red tendril flopped onto her cheek. Eyeing it with displeasure she said, 'I need a haircut.'

  Agnes picked up a pair of dressmaking shears and raised her eyebrows enquiringly.

  'From a professional, dear,' said Hetty in response. 'Now get to work, no dillydallying. We're off schedule by three hours already, heaven help us if we delay the lass any further. Her ass will be redder than a strawberry.'

  Agnes didn't need to be told twice and began cutting through the fabric of Jenny's jeans, starting from the bottom and working her way up. She cut a long slice through the entire left side of the jeans and then began on the right, humming as she did so.

  Jenny was almost positive this had to be a nightmare. If it wasn't, her dad would be notified soon enough and would make sure these idiots paid handsomely for their mistake. This sort of thing didn't happen in this day and age. She had rights. She wanted a lawyer and a very heavy baseball bat, not necessarily in that order. Tied down to the table and gagged, she was only just holding herself together. Please, dear God, she prayed, don't let it get any worse. That was before they started cutting away her clothes.

  The jeans slid off easily in two sections and Agnes let them drop to the floor. That just left brown ankle boots, some socks and a pair of black lace panties to dispose of on her lower half. The first two were removed by hand and the panties melted under the pressure of the sharp steel blade. The top half was considerably easier, consisting of just an angora sweater and a matching black lace bra. The glinting scissors slid effortlessly through wool and lace, leaving the subject of their attentions swiftly naked.

  Anger had replaced shock in Jenny's face. Did they not know that her designer jeans cost over four hundred pounds? The sweater was closer to eight hundred and would be impossible to replace as it was one of a kind. She wanted to gouge their eyes out. How dare they? Struggling futilely at the thick brown straps that bound her, Jenny tried hard to make her concerns known, but the sound that came out was nothing more than a croak. It took some moments to realise that ruined designer clothes were the least of her worries. She was naked, she was gagged and she was wide open for a reason. A tendril of fear began to take root.

  'She really is quite pretty, don't you think?' said Agnes, her tape measure back in her fingers once more.

  Henrietta paused and took a good long look at the trainee before her. 'She's not bad, I suppose, with her long black hair, deep blue eyes, raspberry-tinted lips and long, thick eyelashes. Then if you take the clear ivory flesh into account, small but perfectly proportioned breasts, blush-coloured areola and pussy lips, then yes, I suppose she could fetch quite a sum if properly trained.' Hetty turned to Agnes who was daydreaming once more. 'But don't get your hopes up, Aggie, she's far too feisty to ever achieve the black. She'll be lucky to manage the green.'

  Agnes sighed heartily. 'There goes my bonus.' Both ladies were awarded a bonus on the final training report of the slaves they outfitted. The more accurately a slave was outfitted, supposedly, the better colour collar they could achieve. Between them they had never managed more than the coral and each collar upwards from white doubled the bonus in size. 'I'm telling you, Hetty, I need to retire soon. My bones need sunshine.'

  'Hurry up and get to work, Agnes. We're on a timescale here.' Hetty poised her pencil above her pad and waited expectantly. In a matter of seconds she was scribbling furiously. Measurements for martingales, reins, saddles, corsets, bodysuits, chambons, cross ties, hobbles, surcingles, polo wraps, tails and the obligatory saddle. Then it was time for the ladies to discuss the materials they would need, the stitching, the colours, the finish and the required quantity of each item. As there were no monetary restraints for this particular pony, it was a more enjoyable task than usual.

  'She's going to look gorgeous, when she's all trussed up and ready to trot,' sighed Henrietta.

  Jenny tried to make as much noise as she could through the rubber ball, whilst struggling madly. She managed nothing more than a muffled grunt and about an inch of leverage with the leather straps that were clearly not going to give, no matter how much she pulled at them. Meanwhile, the cold tape measure wrapped itself around her body again and again. These people, whoever they were, were talking as if she didn't even exist. She was Jenny, she was not a filly, she was not a pony and she was certainly not going to be an animal for someone's entertainment.

  She'd listened to the long list of tack items that were being discussed in horror. Knowing what each piece was used for on a real horse and having most of the items readily on display here in the human tack room had just about turned her insides to liquid. For instance, she knew that a chambon was used to control the carriage of a horse's head and that cross ties would ensure a horse stayed relatively straight and upright, making sure there was no fidgeting or turning. Hobbles, as the name suggested, would prevent kicking and restrict all but the smallest of movements. Surcingles circled the waist and enabled the trainer to teach proper head carriage, whilst polo wraps were basically leggings for horses, providing a degree of protection to the wearer. She could not be forced to wear any of this, could she? Trying to slow her breathing and think sensibly, she reasoned that there must be some way out of this mess. Unfortunately, it was very hard to be reasonable when you were tied down without the use of your voice.

  'I think we're ready for the internal, Hetty,' said Agnes, winding her tape measure in circles around her hand.

  Internal what? Jenny thought in panic, already assuming the worst.

  'Right ho, dearie,' said Hetty, searching for something in a squeaky wooden drawer.

  Jenny's eyes didn't leave Henrietta as she watched her slowly pull two clear latex gloves out of a box with an audible snap. One by one she struggled with the rubber until she'd squeezed all her pudgy fingers inside. Cracking her knuckles slowly, she smiled at Jenny. It was supposed to be a reassuring look. The next words that came out of her lips were, 'Don't worry sweetheart, I'll be very gentle,' but they were wasted.

  Jenny had fainted clean away.

  The Exam, Part I

  'Oh Hetty, do you have to do that? You know it scares some of the newbies,' said Agnes reprovingly.

  'Most of them enjoy it, Aggie, and let's face it, you need to let them know what's coming.'

  'There are softer approaches you could take, especially with the fillies who haven't signed up for this particular type of training. You've scared the poor lass half to death. Now I'm going to have to get the first aid kit,' she said, frowning. 'Can you just release the door for me?'

  She depressed the door release button and Agnes sprinted out. Well, what counted as sprinting for Agnes, which was in fact a very brisk walk. That gave Hetty plenty of time to get all the equipment ready that she would need to conduct her exam. The first thing she did was wheel a small, three-tiered metal trolley alongside the middle of the horse, parallel to Jenny's stomach. That was where most of the action would be. Stepping into a small box room, located just past the collars, she pulled on the light cord. Immediately the room came to life with row upon row of exquisitely-decorated glass dildos, shimmering silver jars of lubricant, ruled measuring dildos in sizes from tiny to enormous and inflating rubber dildos in various bold shades.

  Hetty took particular pride in this room; it was she who had bought most of the items and did the yearly inventory. She had unwrapped, polished, cleaned, placed

, cherished and put to use most of the equipment on display. Agnes nearly always let her do the exams, knowing how much she enjoyed them; horses for courses, as it were. In the days when she was known as Mistress Etta, she must have had one of the biggest toy boxes in the industry. She could cow submissives with just a glance back then. Chastity belts and chains, ah, those were the days.

  Agnes popped her head through the door and waggled a green first aid kit in the air. 'Are you ready yet?' she asked.

  'Give me five minutes and then you can wake sleeping beauty up. There's no point having her conscious before absolutely necessary.'

  'No arguments here, I'll just finish my coffee and have a look through her paperwork.'

  Hetty didn't bother to respond, already too absorbed in the tools around her. On her trolley she placed one gleaming pump action bottle of silky smooth lubricant, the thin version rather than the nasty, thick, sticky stuff. Next she added a twelve inch ruled glass dildo of the slimmest size available, and placed the medium next to it for good measure; she couldn't be running back and forth for things at her age. A black inflatable dildo followed and that completed the necessary equipment for the vaginal exam, bar a stainless steel speculum and some long cotton swabs. The rectal exam would follow with similar equipment, just much smaller in size. She brought the items back into the tack room and smiled when she saw that Agnes had brought back a couple of plastic tubs, one with warm water inside. Dropping the two speculums into the tub of water, she changed her gloves for a fresh pair and waited for the smelling salts to do their thing.

  Agnes didn't have to wave the rather potent bottle of salts under Jenny's nose for long before her eyes snapped open. Then a gaggle of incoherent would-be screaming followed.

  'She's all yours, Hetty.' Agnes picked up her notepad once more.

  Jenny's eyes goggled as rubber-coated fingers began to exam her groin, brushing through her pubic hair to inspect the underlying skin beneath, pushing and pressing into the flesh, separating her labia majora and raising the hood of her clitoris to touch the little nub beneath. A moan escaped through her gag, she couldn't help herself. What on earth was wrong with her?

  'A Brazilian wax definitely seems to be the fashion of choice at the moment,' commented Hetty, 'although I think you'll look much prettier when you've been properly readied for pony play and all that nasty hair is removed.'

  Agnes nodded her head in agreement. 'It helps for your trainer to be able to see when you're aroused, too. There is nothing like a little pony that's hot to trot with glisteningly wet and swollen labia.'

  Hetty squirted a thin trail of lubricant on two of her fingers before slowly parting her subject's inner lips and sliding them inside her vagina. She checked Jenny's uterus and ovaries and the surrounding skin for abnormalities, such as cysts or lesions. 'Right, that all seems to be fine.'

  Taking the larger speculum out of the warm water, she dried it on a piece of clean white linen and slowly slid it into Jenny's vagina. It slid in easily but her patient began to struggle furiously once more.

  Agnes put two fingers to the carotid artery on Jenny's neck and checked for her pulse. 'She's going into overdrive again. I think we need a little relaxant, if you know what I mean.'

  Hetty smiled and withdrew the speculum slowly, placing it back in the water. 'A freebie? Hmm, well just this once, I suppose.' Hetty's thumb and fingers went back to their earlier position, separating the outer lips and pulling the hood of the clitoris back to expose its slightly swelling occupant. With her free hand she managed to squeeze a dollop of lubricant onto the tip of her index finger in a one-handed motion - it was amazing what you could do with years of practice - and applied light pressure to the tip of Jenny's clitoris. Just a few seconds of pressure and then she began slow, circular movements which teased the little nub into life.

  Agnes came alongside to help with the ruled glass dildo. She rested it at the entrance of Jenny's vagina and applied light pressure. It wouldn't be able to slide in until its subject had become thoroughly aroused.

  Hetty continued her attentions, light little taps, soft palpations and then a little bit harder, rubbing in quick concentric circles.

  A long, thin line of dribble began to seep from Jenny's lips as she began to moan helplessly.

  'I think our little pony likes to play,' said Agnes, winking at her colleague.

  'Oh, I suspect she's played many times before. Her paperwork states that she brings home a different man nearly every day of the week and I suspect it's not business related. The forms state that our little pony here has never even managed to get a job, let alone hold one down, due to laziness mostly.'

  'Well, laziness isn't a trait that will be tolerated here and I'm sure she'll soon mend her naughty ways,' said Agnes thoughtfully.

  Jenny barely heard any of the conversation that was going on. Her buttocks had begun to bounce up and down on the leather horse with rhythmic frequency and her breasts were bouncing in unison with proudly erect, straining nipples. Heat had begun to pool within her face, turning it a deep shade of plum. She was beginning to breathe heavily through her nose and was clenching her fingers tightly inside her palms.

  'Oh, we've got movement on the dildo,' said Agnes. It was beginning to slide quite comfortably inside the slippery lips placed before it and if possible, Jenny went a shade darker in colour as she felt the cold glass begin to penetrate. Whilst Henrietta continued to masturbate the trainee, Agnes gave the dildo a little more pressure in encouragement and was rewarded when it began to sink inside its occupant.

  'Six inches and counting, Hetty,' she said.

  Hetty now placed two fingers upon Jenny's clitoris and intensified the speed of movement.

  'Seven inches.'

  Agnes began to pump the dildo in and out as Jenny raised her backside off the leather. 'She's going to make the most wonderful pony girl. Just look at the expression on her face.'

  Hetty turned her attention back to her subject's face and was quite surprised to see a meek little submissive, almost ashamed of the orgasm she was about to have, panting and heaving for breath whilst nearly foaming at the mouth. Indeed she looked quite tortured in the throes of passion and any Master would be extremely pleased with that particular look during training. Hetty's fingers found their final rhythm and with a measured pressure, they would send the pony girl off to 'O' land in a few seconds.

  'Eight inches and we're stopping. It won't budge any further,' said Agnes.

  'She'll need to work on that. Eight inches won't do at all.'

  Agnes nodded.

  Jenny tried to scream yet again. This time it would have been a full throttle scream of pleasure had it been able to escape. As it was it was pretty impressive, and had another line of saliva dripping down her cheek to pool on the floor beneath her. As her pussy began to convulse around the dildo she rode wave after wave of the strong contractions that had assailed her body before a fit of trembling overtook her. No-one had said a word the entire time and nor had anyone looked at her face. It should have been a very cold, dispassionate experience, and yet that had not been the case at all.

  Agnes slowly slid the glass dildo back out again and placed it in the used receptacle box. 'Your turn again,' she said.

  The shiny, black, inflatable dildo was picked up and admired. It would be used to measure what kind of width the trainee would be able to manage comfortably on her initial training. Hetty licked her lips and covered the black plastic in lubricant. The penis-shaped inflatable was then slowly inserted inside Jenny, who at the moment appeared rather desensitized to all that was going on around her. The new dildo barely needed the aid of lubricant, sliding deeply inside its victim with little additional help needed. When Hetty was confident that she had inserted it as far as it was able to go she began to use the small oval-shaped pump which was attached to the dildo by a black quarter-inch tube.

  'Let me know when you feel a little pressure, Jenny,' said Hetty, but Jenny still looked mindless with pleasure and made no acknowledgment. One pump, then two, four, six and finally on the seventh pump of air Jenny began to protest in little staccato bursts, having finally snapped out of the aftermath of her delicious orgasm.

  'Jot down an inch and a half, Aggie,' said Hetty, who was now deflating the pump and slowly sliding the much slimmer dildo back out. A loud clunk announced that the inflatable dildo had joined its friend in the used box and would no longer be needed.

  Jenny was feeling intense heat in her cheeks and embarrassment curled itself all the way through her body. Not only had she just orgasmed in front of these two old ladies, who happened to be complete strangers, but she had enjoyed herself. No, make that really enjoyed herself. She had never had an orgasm like it. It had ripped through her body with such force that she had screamed out loud without even realising it. Not one of the men she had sex with, and there had been a few, had managed anything even remotely close to that kind of tumultuous eruption. What was wrong with her? Wake up, she told herself, you must snap out of this weird dreamworld you have managed to create. Although she had a suspicious feeling that not even her subconscious could come up with something this bizarre.

  A knock sounded on the door. It was loud, insistent and the owner of such a knock obviously did not want to be ignored.

  'Come in,' both ladies chorused together.

  A male head popped around the door frame. 'Hello, Aggie, Hetty,' he nodded to each and gave a rather dazzlingly bright white smile. 'Just to let you know I'll be in charge of the trainee filly when you're done. I've been told in no uncertain terms that we need to show a firm hand with her at all times. Apparently she is what's termed as "difficult" but we'll give her the benefit of the doubt until her training begins.' He winked at Jenny.

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