A Rough Ride: Pony Girl Training in Latex and Leather (8 page)

Studying his remote once more he decided that two arrows on top of each other probably meant thrust. Pressing the button down with his thumb his keen eyes took in Jenny's hips and the way she suddenly pushed them forwards and back, gently rocking to and fro. It was official; he was a whizz with technology. The black latex creaked and groaned as she got to all fours to find a more comfortable position. The girl hadn't seen anything yet. Pushing the sideways arrow he once again studied his prey. No squawks or shrieks were forthcoming, so he guessed it couldn't be all that bad. A soft 'unnnghh' left her lips and her body trembled. He was hoping he'd found
inflate
. When she began to whimper the longer he held his finger on the button, he decided it had been a pretty good assumption.

Opting to be kind he pulled his fingers back and didn't let it expand to its full potential. Her hips waggled a little and then she dipped her head to her knees. There was a pause as she gathered her breath and then she looked up and after a quick perusal of the inhabitants of the surgery, her head centred on his and he knew what she was thinking. Revenge.

Miraculously she once again got to her hooved feet and rushed forward, but this time it was not the exit she was after. He suspected she wanted to sink her knee into one of the more delicate parts of his anatomy, and in quite a brutal fashion. Rapidly scanning the rest of the controls he sought either pain or electric shock treatment. His handicap was growing with the vast array of symbols swimming before his eyes. There was a triangle, a fork, a spiral and a circle and he was just getting started. Watching Miss Clomping Hooves tear down the marble floor in what could only be described as a stampede, or slide-eze as she seemed to have mastered the art of skating, he didn't have a lot of time with the decision making process. Triangle, spiral, interconnecting lines or fork? He didn't have a working knowledge of the suit and none of his previous trainees had been required to wear it, so he had no idea which punishment was the kindest to dole out. Not that it really mattered as he still hadn't managed to figure out the symbols. Miss Redcliff hadn't slowed down and if anything she might have managed to speed herself up. The sleek black silhouette flying through the room towards him looked rather disconcerting; a cross between Batwoman and an angry Terrier. Taking a calculated guess he pressed the triangle and hoped it would be somewhat painful and slow her down, but that it wouldn't do any permanent damage.

The Terrier came to an abrupt halt in mid-stride with a loud gurgling sound, before Batwoman took over and flew through the air. The landing needed practise. Spinning around in a one hundred and eighty degree arc, Jenny's head came to rest mere inches from his feet, which was quite worrying as his finger was still firmly depressing what was obviously the electric shock option. She was pawing repeatedly at areas all over her body and had gone into rigid spasms, leaving her face down and twitching upon the cold, unforgiving floor. Taking pity on the captive he released the triangle before pressing the heel of his loafer into the small of her back to make sure she stayed relatively harmless to all and sundry. He didn't have a pen in his jacket pocket, but someone might have a toothpick somewhere and now that he'd directed her to go for the eyes, the results wouldn't be pretty. Actually, come to think of it, in the getup she currently wore she wouldn't be much of a threat to anybody unless she clipped someone with one of her hooves.

He wondered whether he should let up the gentle pressure of his foot. The two glistening metal horseshoes on the underside of her feet discouraged him against the notion. He already had a stab wound to contend with; he could do without half a ton of bruises to accompany it. Now, where was the vibrate button? He assumed fork was for pain but that still left a number of options available to him. Eeny meeny miny... bugger it, he'd go with the interconnecting lines. They looked like they could have something to do with vibration. He took a moment to wonder whether he should keep his foot in place whilst trying the new button or not. There was a risk he might electrocute himself if he kept it there, but there was also a risk she'd do him some personal irreparable damage if he didn't. What was a little electricity between friends? He pressed the button.

No electricity. That was good. There wasn't much of anything else, either. Jenny hadn't made a sound. She'd better not be unconscious under that suit or he was going to get good and mad. He wanted a blowjob as soon as the mysterious owner of Albrecht came on and gave up the results of this ridiculous farce. Which reminded him, it must be getting late by now. It was about time someone got this show on the road.

There it was - the merest whisper of noise. Thank God she hadn't passed out. Mark didn't really do the guilt thing, but there were occasions when he almost managed a semblance of a conscience. All eyes in the room were trained on Miss Redcliff. They wanted pain. One way or another, they'd get it eventually. Poor girl couldn't make much more than a whisper with the ball-gag filling her throat, but she was definitely making some kind of sound. The latex slowly came to life beneath his foot.

There were a few gentle twitches at first. He began to wonder whether she was still feeling the after effects of the shock treatment, but the twitches soon progressed to longer, squirming motions. A grumble of disappointment circled the room. They wanted action. They wanted reaction and the stronger the better. Too bad, because Mark didn't give a damn what anyone else wanted.

She tossed her head from side to side and there was the sharp squeak of plastic as her hooves searched for a hold on the smooth ice-rink her body rested upon. It was clear that the girl was tired. She looked like Bambi experiencing his first winter as she tried to scrabble to her arms and feet, gangly limbs going everywhere and coordination nowhere in sight. He'd nailed the right button by the looks of it. He watched her buttocks clenching, her face twisting around the gag and almost cracked a smile as her hips tried to thrust their way through the floor. Good luck with that move, he thought. He had no idea how to increase the intensity of the clitoral stimulator, but guessed that given enough time the suit would do its own thing anyway. He shoved the remote in his pocket, out of harm's way.

A few minutes later there was an audible moan and some intense fidgeting. He immediately worried that she'd do herself an injury on the unforgiving floor. He got down on his haunches and hauled her up by her underarms. She squeaked and creaked in her rubber captivity and smelt rather pungent, but she didn't resist his attentions when he sat her on his lap. She already had enough to worry about. He suspected she was trying rather hard to rein in her body's reaction to the suit and that the audience gathered around her was another, added incentive to remain impervious to its charms. She didn't stand a chance. The crowd was practically salivating for her downfall. Their greedy, lust-filled, sex-crazed eyes said it all. They wanted pain, humiliation and tears. They would not be satisfied with less. When she buried her head into the crook of his neck, he knew she had seen it too.

Ignoring Kyle's look of rage as Jenny took refuge within his arms, he took a moment to wonder if there was the slightest chance he could get her out of here. Miss Redcliff might be a brat of the tallest order, but no one should be held in a facility of this type against their will. Whilst he knew her body was compliant to the workings of Albrecht, her mind was not and that, in his humble opinion, was reason enough to aid her in any way he could. He decided he'd look into it and see what he and his minions could do. There was always a way.

His train of thought was disturbed as a hum began to sound in the room. It was the loudspeaker coming to life. The gentle whispering of voices in the background suddenly stopped and a throat could be heard clearing itself. He was male, as Mark had expected, and as soon as the voice starting talking he placed the age of its owner somewhere in his late forties or early fifties. The pronunciation was elegant and the accent, other than being clearly English, was untraceable - at least to him. The volume of the voice, unfortunately, was much louder than it needed to be by some margin.

'
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to wish a good afternoon to you all. I hope you are enjoying the hospitality of Albrecht stables and that our training regimes will meet your needs for your future submissive slaves in the coming year
.'

Jennifer Redcliff suddenly went rigid in his arms. Had the suit done its duty and stopped just before the moment of truth? There was a long pause, which made him worried enough to place a hand on her chest to make sure it was still rising and falling. Thankfully it was.

'
You will be pleased to know I have made my decision with regards to the spirited pony you see before you. It was a hard decision, given the circumstances, but I have tried my best to make sure that the spirit of Albrecht is upheld
.'

Mark began to tap his foot. He was nervous and impatient. The impatience he could handle, the nerves made him curse. Of course she would be his. He was the best there was and everyone at Albrecht knew it. The squirms of his pony began afresh and increased rapidly in strength. She had devoted a lot of effort in order to quell them because her body started to shudder, toss and turn with an almost violent force. He shook his head. It was almost as if she was having an orgasm, but that couldn't be possible, could it? The suit she was wearing was designed specifically with the purpose of stopping pleasure, not giving it out. Then he heard the choked sobs and snorts. He realised she was crying. Wrapping his arms tight around her he tried to comfort her, but there was no stopping the sudden torrent of tears that had begun. She had obviously finally realised the predicament she was in and reality was beginning to take a hold. The girl had done well to last out this long. Stroking her back, he made soothing gestures with his hand.

'
I am awarding custody of the horse to none other than Mr Kyle Levison, who has a rather impressive reputation with the ladies. The reason for this is because I feel it is very important for a trainer and trainee to start out on a good footing in order to ensure that training will go as quickly and smoothly as possible. I have every confidence that they will work very well together and make each other proud. I am sure you will join me in congratulating Mr Levison and now, if you will excuse me...
'

The hum disappeared abruptly and there was a smattering round of applause, but Mark barely heard it. Kyle had the smuggest smile on his face and began to approach them with a knowing look in his eye. He'd been set up. Who the hell was the owner of Albrecht and what had just happened here? Standing up abruptly he slowly released Jenny into Kyle's arms, and putting on his best face, congratulated him. Unless he wanted to appear a complete jerk, he had little other choice. Though his fist itched to perform a meat-tenderiser type action upon Levison's face, he kept himself firmly in check. He needed to get out of here, quickly. His anger exploded into painful fragments that burrowed deep inside his head at the thought of what Levison might do to Jenny, and that was nothing compared to what was happening in his stomach. There it had gathered itself into a tight knot of adrenaline and was threatening to eviscerate him.

'Make sure you feed her, Levison. She's had a long day on nothing but breakfast, I suspect.'

'Oh I'll be feeding her all right, Matthews,' Kyle called after his retreating form. 'Liquid feed, force-fed and on an hourly basis.' Several sniggers of amusement followed his statement.

Mark made no notion of having heard the comment. Stepping out of the room with all the other spectators he took long, purposeful strides and to all outward appearances he was a man in control. In reality, he was anything but.

Flashbacks and Exercise

Jenny was flailing about madly on the floor. On some level she was aware that everyone had left the room bar Kyle, but he was the least of her worries at the moment. Her breaths were huge, great big choking sobs and her face felt flushed and fevered. Her mind was in meltdown and the explosion was of Hiroshima and Nagasaki style proportions. Had a giant mushroom cloud lined with highly toxic chemicals such as Iridium and Strontium 90 floated down to greet her, she didn't think she would have felt any worse. At least she would have known death was coming for her. There was no such guarantee at Albrecht; quite the opposite, in fact. They wanted her alive - she wouldn't be much use to them in any other state.

She was in shock. Her body was cold, despite the stifling heat of the latex and she felt numb all over. The voice upon the loud speaker continued to echo in her head, even though he had finished speaking over five minutes ago and she still could not believe it was him. There was no mistaking the commanding tone of Michael Redcliff, her father, however. She'd known it was him from the very first word. How could he do this to her? How could he do this to his daughter? Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. The man was a monster. Everything Mark had said before was true. It was her father who was responsible for this mess. He had sent her here knowing there would be no chance of escape. Her mind staggered in disbelief.

The suit managed to take her almost to the point of orgasm before it abruptly stopped its teasing vibrations, but that was the least of her concerns and she barely noted the absence of stimulation as her wardrobe geared up for another attempt sometime in the not too distant future.

Kyle must have picked up her corset, for she felt something being slid under her stomach and wrapped around her rubberised body. He could do his worst. She didn't give a damn. She just wanted to roll up into a little ball and continue to bawl as loudly as the fat gag inside her mouth would let her. She'd kill him. If she managed to get out of this place alive, she'd hunt the man down and murder him in cold blood for doing this to her.

Her father had ruled his household with an iron fist from the very beginning and made it clear that he was a man 'who must be obeyed' from an early age. Oh, her father had never hit her. He had employed others in order to see to her 'correction', and they had been many and varied. More often than not men, but occasionally women had been given her as their 'charge' to teach, mentor and discipline into the ways of the Redcliff household. The teachings had been long and onerous, but the discipline had been loathsome and actively encouraged by Mr Redcliff. 'Spare the rod, spoil the child,' had been his favourite motto, and no one around her had been in the least bit sparing with the rod or any other implement, that was for sure. The switch, cane, paddle, slipper and ruler, or any other item that could be found suitable for chastisement had been used at every opportunity, and in her early years she had tiptoed around everyone and everything.