A Rough Ride: Pony Girl Training in Latex and Leather (7 page)

'You're missing out, man. If the ladies love you, they worship you. You don't have to love 'em back.'

'Thank you for your psychological perceptions on love, Kyle. Are you going to gag the pony, or can I gag you instead?'

In response Kyle screwed his face up in annoyance and snorted. Mark's words did have the desired effect, however. He moved the gag to Petal's lips and pressed softly for entrance. He could be gentle when there was an audience to please.

He couldn't resist bending down to whisper in the trainee's ear, 'Do you remember meeting me last night at the stables, Petal? I had a lovely gag for you, just like this one.' Watching her eyes widen in confusion as she began to piece the jigsaw together he raised his voice and continued, 'This is how you'll remain in my presence.' He had stopped speaking with his heavy southern drawl and waited to see if any recognition would dawn. It did. She foolishly gasped and while that gave Kyle all the answer he needed, it also gave him a great opportunity to shove the ball-gag to the back of her throat. 'Whether by bit, ball or my cock, you'll never get the chance to use your vocal chords for anything other than neighing and whinnying under my command. To be honest, you'll barely need to use your brain cells. All you need to do is follow my direction and be a good girl.' He patted her rump and grinned when she tried to paw and scream at him. 'Aren't you glad you picked me? We're going to have lots of fun together.'

Jenny recoiled in horror from her assailant and a whopping great mistake that no amount of white-out would ever get rid of. She wondered if she could change her mind. Hell no. She'd take crazy over cold any day of the week. Jenny would have picked Kyle, who was clearly nuttier than a fruit cake, over Mark had he been the only other option. Yes, he was a fruit loop, but at least she wouldn't have to deal with a daily chemical imbalance in her hormone levels.

The vet held up a circular black object and asked, 'Any volunteers?'

Kyle whisked the thin black rubber disc out of the vet's hands and stretched the fabric in his hands, letting it snap back to its original shape in front of Petal's eyes. He laughed out loud when her head whipped back in shock. Wasting no time in getting to grips with the hood of her outfit, which was then dragged roughly over her head with a few hard yanks and tugs, he stood back to admire his handiwork. Tucking the ends of the latex hood smartly into place behind the thick white collar, her temporary disguise was complete. He ran his thumb over her rubberised cheek and took a theatrical bow for his audience before wheeling a free-standing mirror, which had been carefully concealed behind the trainee, in front of her humbled figure. He wondered how she would react. His bet was badly. All eyes in the room turned to stare at Petal's black, oily-looking body and waited expectantly for something to happen. They were not to be disappointed.

It took Jenny a couple of seconds to comprehend exactly what was reflected in front of her. Firstly, because she had a very limited field of vision through her tiny eyehole slits, and secondly because everything swam in a black haze before her. When her eyes finally adjusted and she was able to make out a reasonably clear picture of herself, she just managed to hold back on what would have been an ear-splitting scream. She was no longer human. Albrecht stables had successfully managed to strip every ounce of humanity from her and turn her into the animal they desired.

No one would be able to recognise her in the figure-hugging elastic prison she now wore, unless they had somehow managed to catalogue the size and shape of her breasts or ass, she thought with some measure of incredulity. The only apertures within her hood were the two small slits for her eyes and two round holes beneath her nostrils through which to breathe. Haltingly, she angled her eyes towards the mirror to witness the damage that been had been inflicted upon her.

Immediately shrinking back in horror, Jenny simply stared at herself for what must have been a minute, perhaps more. She simply could not believe her eyes. Reflected in the mirror before her was a human horse, complete with perky rubberised ears. There was also a long, black, horse-hair tail dangling between her legs. She wanted to bawl her eyes out. The suit was now being sprayed and polished to a gleaming shine by both Domingo and Amand, who were having lots of fun with some aerosol canisters and a pair of dusters. At least someone was enjoying themselves, she thought acidly.

There was little time to dwell on her predicament. Two long latex gloves were headed her way, the ends of which were adorned with a pretty accurate, if somewhat small, horse's hoof. Her hands were picked up by both Kyle and Mark and the fingers were bundled into fists. Her vision was beginning to tunnel at this point and only some of the goings-on around her registered within the dark recesses of her brain. This could not be happening. Slowly but surely the pair of lubricated hoof-mitts were worked up her hands. Even though her vision was sketchy she knew which side Kyle and Mark had taken by the way they accomplished their task. Mark was gentle and careful with each of her fingers as he squeezed them into the tight glove. Kyle was impatient. When the latex snagged and wouldn't move on his first attempt, he yanked upon her elbow with a fierce, hash tug. Hang on, that couldn't be right, could it? Mark was the sadist. He was the one who'd nearly crippled her with exhaustion and pain in the training room. Shaking her head to try and clear her clouded vision she eventually managed to confirm what she had already known. Mark was being kind, Kyle was being rough. Ah yes, but Kyle had been her tormenter yesterday evening. He'd fed her a sleeping tablet and gagged her for a whole evening. Nothing made sense any more. Was everybody twisted around here? Maybe she was going mad.

When the hoof-mitts snapped into place they fell at an angle from her wrists, similar to how a real horse's hoof might appear. Once again her hands were useless. She knew it wouldn't be long before her boots and corset followed. Not content with having taken her speech, liberty and free will away, now they wanted to make her look like an animal too. A hysterical fit of spluttering and tears threatened to explode from the back of her throat. She just managed to hold it back, but the effort involved was nearly her undoing. The next thing she knew Kyle was coming at her with a knife, and for some reason the thought terrified her far more than it would have had Mark been the one wielding it. Instinct had her diving her head towards the floor, where she coiled up in the tightest ball she could manage. It was a protective manoeuvre and completely automatic, but when the whole room exploded with laughter she felt the first of what could potentially be a monsoon of tears threaten to spill.

Kyle dragged her up by a handful of her hair, and with his free hand he cut a slit in the front of her hood, aligned with the hole in the black ball which filled her mouth. The knife was quickly pocketed but Jenny did not feel in the least bit comforted.

'You will be fed and watered through the hole in your gag. At meal times you will be presented with a tube which will give you a nutritious balance of all your daily vitamins and nourishment in liquid form. You are now at the mercy of the device and with its many sensors and careful response measurement it will not be a pleasant experience. Oh, the first hour will be entertaining enough, I'm sure, but after that you'll be, a little bit on edge, shall we say?' The veterinarian reeled off his information in a perfunctory manner and looked relieved that his job was nearly over. To finish, he held a narrow black rectangle in the air and all eyes bar Jenny's immediately focused upon the item. 'This is the remote control for Petal's suit. While the suit has an "auto pilot", if you will, it can also be directed by any individual who has charge of this little box. Speed, thrust, inflation, pain and electric shocks can all be delivered by the specific whim of her trainer. So, all that's left to be decided, is who would like to be the first to test her suit?' He waved the black box in the air for effect.

Kyle made a grab for the remote, but this time Mark had anticipated the move and his lightning reflexes slid it out of the vet's hand before Kyle even came close to it. 'Congratulations, Mr Matthews, and have fun with the demonstration.' The vet appeared satisfied with his creation and sidled back to his desk, content to watch the proceedings from a respectable distance.

'You might as well have your fun now, Matthews. I'll be having the last laugh when she's awarded my trainee for the next few years.' Kyle's glare was hostile, but it had little effect on his adversary who was once again training his gaze on the pony before him.

Domingo and Armand had just managed to get her back in her hoof-boots and they were now tackling her corset with a considerable amount of gusto. Unfortunately for them Jenny was now back in the land of the living and she was not going to take being strapped back into the air-sucker-outer lying down.

She wanted to scream. To be exact, she wanted to scream the words, 'Get off me you sonofabitch bastards!' What she actually managed to spurt out through her tightly gagged mouth was 'ggggmmmffhhhh,' and it didn't sound half as promising. The fact that she couldn't articulate a single syllable poured petrol among the already very fiery flames. Now she was
really
mad. Somehow managing to propel her body upwards and get to her feet in a manoeuvre a Chinese gymnast would be proud of, Jennifer Redcliff would have looked tall and imposing on her four inch hooves had she not had a serious wobble on landing, but by some miraculous feat she managed to remain upright. Now what?

Looking around frantically and unable to detect any clear exits within her very limited field of vision, she had few options available to her and they were as follows: a) run as fast as you can and hope for the best or b) lie down and play dead. Obviously, she ran. Unfortunately running was no mean feat when you had four inch hooves, but determination served her where pony hoof-boot design failed. Somehow she made it to the white timber doors with nobody's hands upon her. This was mainly due to the fact that she'd managed what must have been at least a five metre skid upon the smooth marble tiles with her plastic hooves. Sliding precariously, with her balance all over the place, her hooved hands finally managed to bang into the sturdy timber door and she frantically cast her eye slits downwards in an attempt to spy a door handle. Her heart was banging out the good bits of Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture and now that there was a chance of escape in sight her body had infused itself with blood and felt ready to do battle. There was the door handle. It was a simple latch mechanism. She just had to flick the lever upwards and the doors would open outwards. Reaching out and already exulting in her victory, she moved her fingers forward and made to open the metal ratchet.
Bang
.

Her gloved hoof bounced back off the wall and pain splintered through her wrist on impact. The other hoof followed suit, but this time it was a gentler thud because she knew she had already lost. That was why no one had chased her. In her suit she had been rendered as helpless as a baby. There would be no escape for her while she was trussed up like this. Hooves flailing at the door, banging at the lever as if it might magically open, Jenny felt invisible tears leak down her face. Thank God no one could see her now, brought to a new all-time low. Sinking to her knees, still banging at the wood with her mittened hands, she was almost glad of the hood that would hide her tearstained face. The humiliation of crying was enough. She did not need them to witness the act and watch the enjoyment on their faces, which she knew without a doubt would be there. Trying to stifle her sobs, she let them watch her furled back and tried to drown out their laughter, which rang sharply in her ears.

Mark had watched the display of spirit and felt nothing but pride for his soon-to-be apprentice. Jennifer Redcliff had now spent three days of intensive training within Albrecht's walls and she should be feeling the effects. The girl should be hungry, exhausted, emotionally unstable and utterly cowed into submission. Whilst she might be hungry, she was not yet any of the other three on his list. Time would probably see that all of them had a tick beside their respective box, but as of yet, the chit was still fighting and all guns were blazing. She needed to think through her attack plan a little more carefully before acting upon her impulses, but Miss Redcliff deserved some credit for her determination.

He knew what she was doing now. The curve of her body and the slight tremors of her back spoke volumes to him. Knowing he could save her at least some of her embarrassment at having been brought so low, he turned his attention to the remote control he held in his hand. She wouldn't have much time to think when the device came to life within her body. Studying the plastic rectangle carefully, he tried to fathom what was what. He nearly went cross-eyed. The tiny little symbols all looked Greek to him. He grimaced. This looked like it might be a trial and error affair. There were two main control points, all featuring arrows pointing this way and that. He could assume that the up arrows would increase the size of a dildo; down arrows would decrease and perhaps the sideways arrow would inflate? That left several other symbols to decipher, such as thrust, thrust speed, vibration, pain and electrical shocks. Hmm. Deciding to test the arrow theory first, he pressed an upwards arrow.

Miss Redcliff immediately shot off the floor and pawed at her ass, so he quickly took his finger off the button. He watched her breathe a sigh of relief. That probably meant the top portion of controls were for anal use, if a logical pattern were followed. Taking a sideways glance at the vet, who was already nestled on a wooden stool in the corner, inspecting his instruments one by one, Mark took an educated guess. He decided the next set of buttons should do the trick. Pressing the up arrow, he watched his pony closely.

This time her body did not go into a rigid posture as before, but instead she stretched out in a supine, catlike manner. She wasn't purring yet, but she would be. He'd got the right hole and it was high time to play eighteen rounds with it. Letting his finger trail off the pulsating button he allowed her time to get used to the growing intruder. It took all of two minutes before the dildo was fully inflated and the button ceased to pulse beneath his fingertips. He wished he could see her face. If it were up to him there would be no hood and no gag. He liked to witness his submissives' expression and he liked the sounds of their moans and whimpers. He still couldn't quite believe that she had managed to earn herself a punishment this severe in only three days. If she continued on the dangerous path she was forging for herself she'd be doing dungeon time in less than a week. She wouldn't like it. The girl might have a pair of balls that could certainly rival Kyle's and she had a good tolerance for pain, but she had absolutely no idea of the torments down there. Laying your eyes upon the equipment and thinking you could take it, were somewhat different to actually being there and made to take it.