Hot to Trot (4 page)

Jenny spasmed off the chair, to be flung straight back where she started. The ropes were unforgiving. Whatever the fiend had just placed over her clit the vibrations were too strong, enhanced by the metal pinning her clit. She was a buzzing mass of quivering flesh, and somehow the damn vibrations were working their way up her body, little by little, and were shortly going to drive her crazy. It was no use trying to fight it; the first squirm was upon her and she knew there'd be many more.

Mark smiled at long last. At the moment his trainee would feel like someone had released a swarm of angry bees to devour her nether regions, and with the nectar she was providing they'd be in for quite a treat. It was time to deploy his steel lollipop, which was currently resting in a large bucket of freezing water. Dragging it out of melting ice, he admired the rivulets which ran down the newly dulled and fogged surface of the steel. The question was: where should he place it first? The angelic side of him warred with his inner devil.

The beast won.

Jenny felt the curved hook slowly dragged from the confines of her body. It was slipped under the fiercely buzzing clit stimulator, removed from her harness and was left to rest on her stomach. It was warm and wet. Yuck! She didn't have time to bemoan the fact that she was disgustingly dirty, her mouth encrusted with dried food, her body smothered with cracked mud and various other secretions that didn't need to be named, because something long, hard and
cold
was being pushed firmly inside her, filling the void left by the harness hook. She shrieked and tried a second, considerably more energetic attempt at launching herself from the chair.

The smile turned into a grin. The score was two-nil in favour of the ropes, he observed. To give the girl her due, she was putting some strain against his expert bondage and he'd barely even started. Sliding the long steel probe as far as it would go inside her lovely tight little hole, he began slowly pumping it back and forth, watching as her face became pinched with pain.

'Listen up, horsie. We're going to play our first game. It's called
Agony
. I'm going to use this very cold steel probe all over your body for varying lengths of time. When you can stand no more of the diabolical treatment I'm about to dish out, you must shake your head. Beware though, pumpkin, as each shake of your head will result in a forfeit, which will be a longer taste of what you received just now. Just so you know: each forfeit comes with a time penalty. The first is a mere ten seconds in length, but each further misdemeanour comes with an additional ten seconds of added time. Are we clear?'

He didn't expect an answer, which was just as well because Jenny was still reeling from the ice-cold rod buried inside her.

'Now, it's time to play.'

Evil Games

Dear Isobel,

Thank you for rescuing my credit card, but really, there was no need. I have several others at my disposal, especially now my daughter has found alternative accommodation.

Oh, and congratulations on engineering the Matthews/Redcliff affair. You do not give yourself enough credit for handling these situations.

I have only one further thing to ask of you for the moment: make sure that Matthews, and only Matthews, isn't allowed to put his cock anywhere near my daughter. That should irritate him somewhat.

Michael Redcliff,

CEO Synstyte Petroleum.

When the frozen rod was finally withdrawn and the harness hook set aside on the steel countertop, Jenny sagged in relief. This was going to be unbearable. No, scrap that; this was going to be unbearably bearable. It wasn't as if she had a choice. The rustle of ice, which was presumably the sound of the probe being restored to its bucket, made Jenny shiver in anticipation. Where would it strike first? How long would this game last? How painful would it be?

Without warning Mark's face was in front of hers. A soft red blindfold was in his hands and in seconds it was covering her eyes. No! Now she wouldn't have any idea of where the probe would be headed. Her body would have to rely on sound and touch alone. Her skin began to prickle expectantly. When, when, when? The room had suddenly gone quiet and there were no indications of movement that she could discern. Time ticked away, in a strangulating silence that had her body on hyper-alert. It was only ice and cold steel. Why was such panic consuming her? Seeing a sea of bright-red everywhere her eyes fluttered only served to make the waiting worse. Her heartbeat pulsed and then pounded, before finally it hammered a prestissimo tempo. Her body was going into overdrive, as time appeared to drag its heels from the deepest swamp of quicksand. The silence was broken by nothing more than the infernal buzzing of the lighting above, which provided little benefit as her eyes were swathed in silk.
Come on, Mr Nasty, put me out of my misery
. And the seconds ticked on...

Waiting was often one of the most agonising of torments, Mark reflected. It heightened awareness, displaced time in the mind of the submissive, and the inactivity of being passively bound would often have them begging for release far more quickly than if they had been flogged or whipped. In reality, he had not made her wait for more than ten minutes, but already Jenny might imagine she had been left for half an hour or more. She didn't even have the certainty that he was still in the same room as her, because though her sense of hearing had become much more acute with the use of the blindfold, he had been careful not to make a single sound. He was waiting, too; waiting for the first little sound she would make. A sound that would indicate she was ready for him to commence with the fun and games. Mark wouldn't make a move until he heard it, and he was quite happy to wait all day if need be. Looking at his Rolex, he watched the second hand slide around once in its continuous circle and smiled to himself. She had another ten minutes in her, tops. He'd warrant this one hadn't embraced silence in a very long time. He had a feeling the sound she would miss the most, in her training here at Albrecht, would be that of her own voice.

Tick, tick, tick. Tock, tock, tock. Oh, what she wouldn't give for a clock. It couldn't have been more than an hour that she'd been immobilised, but it certainly felt like forever. Each limb strained against its binding and each muscle begged to be free. How much longer would this go on? Please say something, her mind pleaded with telepathic intent. She was almost afraid to make a noise, afraid to disturb the stillness and quiet of the cold room. Tick... tock... tick. A whispered moan broke free. Limbs were cramping and tendons stood out in relief due to the tight, stretching nature of her bondage. Another moan, louder this time, indicating that thumping heartbeats and aching limbs aside she was aroused beyond all expectations. Her body was on fire and not a single finger was upon her. This was crazy, but before that particular thought had a chance to take hold the room erupted in sound and sensation.

He held the probe above her and let a single drop of ice-cold water explode on the skin of her navel. Mark watched as she pulled at her ropes in a frantic attempt to escape its wintry path down her body. Then another two drops splashed, this time on her breasts. He watched with satisfaction as her nipples hardened into tight peaks. As the water began to run in rivulets down the probe he moved lower. Letting the tiny drops tease her inner thighs and then her labia, he decided to move in for the kill. Hoisting the buzzing stimulator upwards, he dropped the last few beads of water directly at her clit before letting the tiny machine ping back on its velcro.

As the vibrator slammed back into her clit Jenny shrieked. The shock of the noisy music and the iced water had caused a few new additions to her already impressive collection of rope burns. The composition thrummed forcefully through her ears. It was loud and carried well through the small confines of the room. It was opera, new age, lively and sung in a language she had no knowledge of, where all the syllables ended in vowels. It was beautiful and distracting. The freezing steel probe had ventured down to touch her skin, circling the ball of her ankle in a leisurely manner. She shivered. It touched the soles of her feet and lingered for a few seconds, testing her reserve. It became focused on the arch of her left foot and, after a few seconds, she felt the pain of intense cold begin to bite. Letting the music wash over her she concentrated on breathing deeply, and it began to soothe the ache. After thirty seconds or so the probe continued its journey, but it had given its captive participant a glimpse of the type of discomfort it could inflict. When it began to move again the steel ball found her hamstrings and drew a wet, icy path along them. An Achilles tendon was caressed, before a breast was shown the same exacting treatment and circled with slow, torturous intent. The first protest issued from her lips as it settled on the soft skin just above her collarbone, and was duly ignored. The piercing cold of the probe began to seep into her bones in carefully protracted intervals. A swirl, a long and heavy drag, a soft bounce, a single drip or the worst of all torments: steady pressure. Ice began to infect every part of her being, numbing her to the core. It didn't change the fact that she was burning up from within. The probe lingered on her bottom lip and the effort needed not to shake her head was almost more than she could bear.

Mark watched her struggle, once again impressed. She had quite the tolerance for this kind of game playing; masochism did indeed become her. The grim set of her hands, curled into fists, told him what he needed to know. She was close. He let his hand slip and trailed a wet path down her chin, letting the probe settle on a nipple. Her groan was delicious. There was no question that she would lose this battle. The only question was how lightly he would let her get off, or whether he would let her get off at all. The thought returned his good humour in its entirety. The probe danced to the beat of the music, letting the staccato bursts bounce it back up her body, before it found the same spot on her swollen, rosy lips with which to re-enact its delightful harassment. Soon she would begin to associate pain with pleasure and that would be a big step for her.

The pain was intoxicating. The clitoral stimulator had aroused her to the point of no return several times, but the icy weapon held in Mark's hand had expertly brought her back on each occasion. He was arousing her to fever pitch. The man was strumming her body like a guitar and plucking at each nerve string with the skill of a Flamenco player. She could feel the tension building within her yet again. It filled her body with delicious purpose and put pressure upon all the right places. She was oh-so-nearly there.
Just a little bit longer, please
.

It was not to be. The probe came to rest upon the still tender area of her bottom lip, which had already been assaulted not moments ago. It managed to sit on exactly the same spot as before and the inflamed tissue began to voice its concerns. The weight of the metal ball felt heavier and heavier the longer it remained motionless, and if Jenny thought she had suffered before, she was mistaken. Her head shook of its own volition.

Watching her shake from side to side as her body said enough was enough was sweet satisfaction for Mark. He was pleasantly amazed that he still found her desirable, considering the mess she was in. Her hair was matted from a good dousing with the hose, her makeup had dribbled everywhere and she was coated in a good dusting of mud and muck from their earlier pursuits. If he listened to 'Mr Excitable', she could have been Miss World for all he cared.
You'll get your chance; just hang in there, buddy
. He cleared his throat.

'So, it's forfeit time. Prepare yourself, young filly. This is going to sting.' With no further preamble he slid the rounded end of the frosty probe deep inside her pussy and waited for the fireworks to begin. His cell-phone took that particular moment to begin pulsing excitably in the pocket of his breeches. It wasn't the only thing pulsing down there. Mark paid it little heed. He took his own sweet time counting to ten. It wouldn't do to rush these things.

Jenny was going to leave bite marks in her bit. If she'd thought the pain lancing through her lip was bad enough, it was nothing compared to what was going on down below. The shock was such that she couldn't even summon up a scream, all her attention focused on riding out the slow seconds of intense torment. Without a doubt it was the longest ten seconds of her life. Every single atom of her body was left quivering when the rod was removed. She was positive she wouldn't have been able to have withstood one second more.

Watching his filly suffer under his capable hands, Mark fought to control his arousal. This one was going to test his honed willpower to the max. Fortunately, the end result would be all the more pleasurable because of it. Rarely did a pony arouse him quite this badly, but he had to admit that he wanted her. Watching her go ten rounds while taking a reasonable amount of pain for him would just sharpen his appetite.

Reaching for the steel probe which had been sitting on the radiator, and feeling the warmth radiate through his glove, he knew it was at just the right temperature. That meant it was somewhere between warm and very warm. To Jenny it would feel like a red-hot poker, after all the ice-play she had just endured. Mark mused that there were times when a man could love his job just a little too much.

When the hot probe pirouetted over her skin there was little feeling at first. The ice-play had numbed her somewhat, but that didn't take long to change. When it settled on her skin for prolonged moments it was too hot - way too hot - and it burned. While Jenny realised he wasn't really frying her skin, that was exactly how it felt. All the areas that had been touched by his handiwork now ached with sensation. Her whole body was crying, weeping honeyed tears in response to his renewed efforts, and she struggled against her ropes. Mark stilled her with a slap to the back of her thigh. Even a small slap, little more than a tap really, hurt like hell. He then tweaked the vibrating beads still embedded deep inside her ass and she whimpered loudly. Then she added a groan for good measure. The man was a sadist - a very thorough sadist. Beginning to find herself panting and sobbing in tandem, she blamed the buzzing stimulator, relentless in its carefully metered moderation. Another orgasm neared and she braced herself for the horror of yet another painful denial, but it appeared Mark was going to leave it to the very last minute. Jenny tried to steel the features of her face in the hopes that he wouldn't notice her impending explosion, but his voice confirmed her worst fears.