A Rough Ride: Pony Girl Training in Latex and Leather (9 page)

Whilst some of the episodes had been blurred by her memory over time, there were several that still stood out clearly nearly a decade after they'd been administered. The 'walk of shame' had been a favourite public disgrace favoured by her father. She would be made to traipse down a long stone hallway, adorned by glowering, gilt-framed family portraits, to be greeted by a small walnut end table at the far wall which featured a single drawer. The horror had been in walking the walk and knowing what awaited at the end of it. Her misery would be nearly uncontainable after the first step, and by the last she would be shaking in her patent black shoes. Upon reaching the table she had been expected to open the drawer and pull out whatever resided inside its velour-lined confines. More often than not it would be a paddle or a hairbrush, but the worst occasions were when she was greeted by an empty drawer. That would mean there was probably a switch waiting for her, propped up in the corner. Whatever it was, she was to grip the item between her teeth, pull up her skirt and bend over the table with her arms behind her head.

She was always made to wait for her punishment. Sometimes it might be a mere ten minutes, other times it could be as much as a couple of hours bent in torment with her ears straining for the tiniest of sounds to indicate that her disciplinarian was on the way. Then she would be spanked. The severity of the spanking varied from person to person, but no one that lived in the Redcliff household could have been accused of leniency when it came to doling out her chastisements. By the end of the session her bottom would be bright red and there would be tears, lots of tears. The worst humiliation had been when she was instructed to stand on the table following her ordeal. Her skirt and panties would be removed and then she would be helped atop the sturdy wooden table, where she would be expected to press her nose into the wall and bare her reddened assets for the world to see. Her father always made sure there were a plentiful abundance of people in his household to witness her various humiliations.

The awful memories brought back fleeting images of her mother, and instinctively she reached for the gold tiffany locket that always rested around her throat. A plastic hoof pawed helplessly at her chest before she remembered she had lost it on her very first day at Albrecht, when she was pilloried in front of the villagers. It was one of the only things she had left that connected her to a mother she barely even remembered; a mother who had run out on her child when she was just six years of age. Jenny vaguely remembered painted pink lips, the smell of Chanel and glossy, ebony hair always worn in fashionable up-do. She remembered cuddles, smiles, bedtime stories and a life far removed from the lonely one she was forced to live through growing up in the Redcliff household.

Although she had tried to trace her mum when she reached eighteen, she had been stonewalled at each and every attempt she made. Even a private detective hadn't been able to unearth anything of a concrete nature. She was left with rumours, probabilities and maybes. For all intents and purposes her mother had vanished off the face of the earth and had never been heard of again. Jenny had no idea if the woman was dead or alive, but she had finally put the past to rest. Her mother obviously wanted no part of her, so she gave up the search. If she were honest, though, she would admit that she hadn't given up hope. The locket was her last link to a time long since departed, when laughter and joy had been present in her life, and she needed it back. Tears poured down her face as the last three days finally caught up with her. She was not going to be rescued and escape was virtually impossible. It was time she faced up to the facts.

Back in the land of the living, her corset was being tightened around her body once more and Kyle was no less lenient in his vicious tugging than Hetty had been, two days ago in the tack room. It was easier to bear this time around, though. She simply did not care. Self-pity had consumed her and she intended to wallow in her deep pool of quicksand. Soon enough the corset was tightened fast around her waist, allowing the twin mounds of her latex covered breasts to rest over it. She could be grateful for the fact that Kyle wasn't quite as experienced as Henrietta, because if he had been she wouldn't have been able to draw in a single breath through her hiccupping sobs.

'Sensible choice you made there, darlin'. Can't wait to begin training that delightful little mouth of yours again. So fucking tight, mmm.' Kyle patted her backside and gave the long black tail on the rear of her suit an impressive yank for good measure. He laughed when she jumped.

Again?
Where had that come from? Bar last night, she'd never met the man before. Had they drugged her sometime during her stay? Not to her knowledge. Besides, she could hardly suck someone off whilst asleep. She was good, but she wasn't that good. Great, it appeared she'd met another crazy. This one might be from way across the large pond of the Atlantic Ocean but he was ocean-going all right. Her sobs increased in their intensity, if that were possible.

'Will you shut the fuck up, you snivelling wretch?' said Kyle, and he gave her backside a sound slap to drive his point home. He laughed as she yelped pitifully. 'There'll be plenty of time for moaning and groaning with your pony friends in the stable later, Pretty Pink. We've got a schedule here. We need to get you fit enough to haul your ridiculous ass and numerous suitcases along the racecourse for the required two laps. I want to see you in your yellow collar. As all the other trainees bar you managed to get theirs yesterday, we're already behind schedule and you're making me look bad. Believe me when I say you don't want to make me look bad. You make me cranky and I'll take out my frustrations on you, babe, not that I won't be anyway.' He gave her a lascivious grin and looked every inch and curve of her body up and down to indicate exactly what he meant. 'I'm already bent out of shape that you've managed to deny me two outa three holes on our very first two days together. What kinda gal does that to her Dom on their first date?'

Jenny barely listened to Kyle's little speech. Her sobs were drying up, but that was only because they were being replaced by cold hard anger and it was directed exactly where it should be - at her father. She just needed a way to channel that anger into something useful, something that would bring about her emancipation and departure from his life, period. She never wanted to lay eyes on the man again. At the moment she was a girl in freefall, but she would get it together. And when she did Michael Redcliff would need more than one person watching his back. He'd need a whole bloody army if she had anything to do with it.

A mere half hour later Jenny found her anger had dissipated quite rapidly. Kyle had led her out of the surgery by her bridle and she had been allowed to walk, which was a bonus, as her knees still hurt like hell from the scrapes she had managed to acquire from the concrete. Finding movement in the latex suit difficult and restrictive, she managed to overcome it with a little more aggression in her step. The gag made her pant and snort through her nose when any exertion was forced upon her, and it wasn't a pretty sound. It didn't seem to bother Kyle in the slightest, however. Although her vision was severely limited by the two tiny slits in her rubber hood, Jenny clearly saw a smug smile of satisfaction grace his face on more than one occasion. It appeared there was something between Mark and himself and he was feeling rather pleased to have come out the victor. He wouldn't be smiling for long. She was going to make it her mission to make everyone's life hell in Albrecht, be they pony-girls, boys, trainers or owners - especially owners. It was brave talk. The thought of doing dungeon time still made her quail.

'Right, nearly there. I hope you're feeling frisky, Petal.' Kyle yanked on her bridal and urged her forward. Jenny was not amused and already exhausted both mentally and physically by the days' many activities. What could they possibly want her to do now? When the uneven cobblestones beneath her feet changed to the smoother, sharp clunk of concrete she began to wonder. Plodding onwards, she tried to remember the order of the rooms before her. She knew she wasn't headed for the dungeon because even though she couldn't see the steps through her almost blinkered visage, she remembered the room was at the beginning of the concrete corridor, and judging by the number of steps they had taken, they had long since passed it. She suspected they wouldn't need the grooming room in her current state of dress, or the tack room for that matter, so they were either headed for the Red Room, the Training Room or the Exercise Room. She didn't want to visit any of them and found her footsteps dragging, the horseshoes even heavier than usual. Why couldn't they just let her slink back to the barn, where she could go somewhere private and lick her wounds in peace? Not that she'd be licking anything for a while, not with this beast of a gag in her mouth.

'We're here,' said Kyle, far too cheerfully. 'The Exercise Room. This is going to be one of your favourite rooms until you get your yellow collar. We're going to have lots of fun here, you and me.' Jenny suspected that was not to be the case, but she was too tired to argue. That and the fact that arguing was going to be nigh on impossible for the near future, anyway. When Kyle led her to one of the exercise bikes and indicated that she should get on, Jenny nearly, so very nearly obeyed him instantly and without question. Just as her foot was about to tackle the pedal of the bike fresh anger welled up inside her. Like a firestorm of volcanic proportions it demanded to be unleashed, less it remained imprisoned inside where it would consume her. So when her hoof picked itself up off the floor to loop over the bike she found an avenue in which to channel her rage and resentment: violence. Changing direction swiftly, the heavy metal hoof angled around and aimed at Kyle's nearest body part, his shin. Unfortunately her suit chose that particular moment to spring into action. Her nether regions all of a sudden came to life and everything seemed to vibrate at once. The stimulator hummed, and it wasn't a gentle purr of movement but more of a full blown earthquake. She could feel her body shaking with some impressive contractions, and if she had to put a number on the seismic activity going through her, she'd go with a force seven major quake. It wasn't just the stimulator; the two dildos were also pulsating inside her and her backside wasn't at all sure it liked the sensation of things jiggling around down there. All of this served to put her momentarily off balance and she landed on the seat of the exercise bike with a painful thud. Thankfully Kyle appeared not to have noticed, studying the remote in his hand with annoyance.

'I'm guessing you don't come with instructions,' he said to the little black box in his hand. 'Too bad, but it'll be fun testing each button to see what happens.' Stuffing the remote back in his jeans pocket he concentrated on fastening her boots to the pedals of the exercise bike. There was some kind of clip mechanism, for she felt her boots firmly wedged inside the pedals, and a strap was fastened over the top of each foot. No amount of tugging on her part would release them.

'That's right, Petal. You're stuck for the duration of the ride. I think we'll start you with a ten mile ride today, and add an additional five miles each day until you've earned your yellow collar and lost a bit of weight. I like my ponies lean, mean and fighting the bit on their machines.' He laughed at his own bad joke. 'The good news is that you won't need to be fitted with an electro-shock plug, because your suit already has that covered. If you slip below a speed of ten miles per hour I'll just get your remote and play with you until you get the message.'

Kyle caressed the rubber of her hood against her cheekbone in a faintly offensive manner, before leaving her to mess around with some dials at the rear of the gym. As his back was turned Jenny struggled like mad to get her feet free of the stirrups. No such luck. She was firmly held in place and going nowhere fast, but not for long apparently. A couple of buttons were pressed, some dials were turned and the gym came to life. Bright LED lights flooded the room and the screen of her bike started beeping and flashing in its eagerness to begin her first torture session. Jenny was well aware that torture was exactly what this was going to be. She hadn't performed any type of regular exercise for years and an hour's cycle ride, even at a sedate pace, was probably going to kill her. Still, dying was probably preferable on one of your first days at Albrecht, when compared to one of your last.

As the pedals began to revolve under her feet in warm-up mode, so the red flashing lights on screen told her, she began to take notice of her suit once more. It wasn't playing fair. The vibrations had begun to tail off, thank God, but the dildos were starting to grow inside her. They were growing in both length and girth, and the feeling was more than a little unsettling. The clamps on the inside of her nipples had started to pinch quite painfully and her breasts were being sucked and squeezed in a bizarre kind of massage motion. It was both wonderful and horrifying.

'Get ready to take the strain, Petal. The warm-up session is about to end and you'll be on your own with the pedalling. Keep above ten miles per hour or I'll be forced to punish you.' Kyle grinned. He decided 'forced' wasn't quite the right word. He would look forward to watching his new pony whimper and thrash about with pain. The different forms of agony he could inflict were many and endless and he was quite prepared to make an example of her. It wasn't often that a pony at Albrecht was destined for the black and if they were, there were timescales involved. He intended to smash every record ever created. Pretty Pink Petals was going to wear the black collar in record time if he had anything to do with it.

Watching as the pedals stopped turning of their own accord, he noticed his pony's body shook as she took up the slack. The suit was already in motion, then. Directing a closer gaze at her body he detected movement from the cups that cocooned her breasts, and when he took a leisurely stroll around to the rear, admiring the tight black latex as it hugged the curves of her ass in all the right places, he noted her tail moving slightly, which was as good an indication as any that her dildos were thrusting away inside her. He was slightly jealous of them. The powers that be had bunged her up so tightly in her new get-up that he would get barely a look in for two whole days. Oh, he'd ravage her mouth all right, but it would be the only hole on offer. He'd get a brief play-date with the rest of her before they shipped her off to some zillionaire, who would probably defile her with much less precision and considerably less enthusiasm than he was capable of. Still, he'd make up for that when she was once again his to do whatever he liked with for the next year or three.