Hot to Trot (6 page)

When Satin took to the field he didn't even bother to glance her way. She'd never missed a log in her show jumping career and by the looks of that beautiful African body, oiled up with powerful muscles bursting, she wasn't about to start today. Now there was one beautiful horse. Pity he'd never been allowed near her, but she had a very protective Mistress. There were two good reasons he didn't mess with Satin. She was the type of horse who would come at your guts with a head butt that would leave one helluva bruise if she felt she had been wronged in some way, and her Domme would follow that up by cranking his balls in a vice. Kyle favoured his nether regions too much to take a chance.

Listening to the sweet jangle of the nipple clamps, which dangled silvery little bells, and combined with all the additional bells added to the leather tack straps and threaded through the ponies' tails, he didn't hear his pager when it began bleeping. He couldn't miss it vibrating against his backside, though. Pulling it from his back pocket he shut it off with a flick of his thumb. It was HQ calling. What the hell did they want? To rub salt into his many wounds and insist he run yet more errands today? Running over to thrust the tablet into the waiting hands of a trainer, who was going to be sorely put out to have his whip hand disabled, Kyle made his apologies and sped toward the Hotel, his long legs eating up the distance effortlessly. The one saving grace about visiting HQ was the probability of seeing the delightful Isobelle.

There was a firm rap at her door. Normally Isobelle made them wait, but time was not her friend today.

'Come in, Kyle,' she said, in her most prim and proper English voice.

Kyle, on the other side of the door, nearly rubbed his hands in glee when he heard who had answered. There were two ladies that handled office duties and Isobelle was his favourite by far. She had a bookish look, hair that was always scraped back into the tightest bun, neatly trimmed fingernails and the longest eyelashes he had ever seen. The thing he loved most about Isobelle, though, was the sound of her voice. Thoroughly arousing in English, when she slipped into her native French he wanted to wrap her legs around his waist, slam her against the wall and fuck her silly. From their first meeting, over five years ago, his fingers had itched to release the pins from her hair and tumble it around her face. Alas, he had never been given the opportunity, hard though he had tried. She was also the only person in the whole of Albrecht who refused to call him by his nickname, and damned if that didn't arouse him too. Dianna, on the other hand, was a brassy redhead with a grating cockney accent, the most garish dress sense he had ever seen and was rather too liberal with her perfume. Isobelle excited him as no other women had, and presented a nice little challenge that one day he
would
overcome.

'You called, Madame?' he drawled in his deep south, American accent.

'Isobelle will do nicely, thank you very much,' she said reprovingly.

Oh, how his fingers itched. 'Yes, Ma'am.' He grinned.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the look was wasted as he wasn't paying attention. He had his nose in the air and appeared to be sniffing out prey. When his attention finally returned to her she gave him a pained look. What on earth was he doing?

'Did you know that your coffee beans have passed through a set of intestines? An Asian Palm Civet has fermented the coffee bean with his gastric acid and...'

'Thank you, Kyle. I am well aware of the way my coffee is produced.'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

Isobelle had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. 'I need a favour, Kyle.' She drummed her fingers on the desktop thoughtfully. 'Matthews has taken on the Redcliff girl, but there's been a bit of an emergency and we need you to cover for him. Can you go to the training block and tell him to get his ass over here as soon as possible?'

Kyle nearly groaned. She even said ass the English way, making it sound like
arse
. She was too delicious by far. For her benefit he made a point of looking at his watch.

She knew exactly what he was trying to do, in his none too subtle way. She also took the time to note that his watch had recently been upgraded to a very expensive and flashy Omega model, which might have been worth the money had he been a deep sea diver, but Isobelle suspected he had never test driven a snorkel let alone ventured in the deep dark blue.

'He's not going to be very happy if I cut in now. He'll probably be in the middle of something important.'

Oh, she did so hope not. 'It can't be helped, I'm afraid. Are you free to take over? It really is an emergency.'

So it might be, but Kyle would need danger money to prize a trainee from under Matthews' hands. He'd probably get a fist in his face for his troubles. Still, his middle name was danger and he would have a hold over his temptress if he consented.

'If I do this you owe me big time, lady.' Kyle glanced into her emerald-green eyes and thought he might just get lucky after all.

Isobelle nodded curtly, once. 'Right, off with you. The quicker the better, Kyle. I want Matthews in my office in less than fifteen minutes.

'Your wish is my command, Ma'am.' He turned and the door snapped shut behind him.

'My name is Isobelle,' she muttered to his retreating form. Solve one problem and create another, she thought sourly. Kyle had a reputation for being a little heavy-handed. He might have just managed to save her hide, though, and most of the office ladies were very complementary about his performance, not to mention how impressive his appendage was.

With a bucket of tepid water in his hand, Mark slowly but thoroughly gave his naked trainee a sponge bath. If she was sucking his cock in a moment he wanted her clean. Mud and white riding breeches did not pair well together. He had washed her face first, so he could quickly replace both her bridle and blindfold. She had gone into whining mode after they'd finished on the chair, stating all her various needs and wants. He'd decided the quickest way to restore peace and quiet was to stopper her mouth. The rubber bit would have to do for now, but he had something better in mind with which to cork those plump little lips. He felt he'd waited so long that the vintage she'd be receiving shortly could be likened to a 1960s bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild. Nearly there, he had to tell himself again.

The girl was on all fours and he'd tied her reins to the back of the heavy chair, just in case she fancied practising her running gait once more. When he'd finished with the water he rubbed her down with a soft cotton towel. She was still mewling nonsense through her bit, but most of what she was saying was unintelligible and he let it pass. Most trainers wouldn't. Picking up the smallest of the dilators, he flexed the plastic between his gloved fingers. It was just over three inches in length and was an inch in diameter. It would not stay easily inside his subject unless she gripped her anal walls tightly around it, and to make sure she did exactly that he unleashed his crop from his belt. He got down on one knee beside her ear and had to smile to himself. At least he was getting down on his knee for the right reason. No one would ever manage to coerce him into lowering his knee for the wrong one.

'Can you feel it?' he whispered.

If the ridiculous man meant could she feel his crop rubbing up and down her clit and trying to work its way into her pussy, then yes, she could. It would be kind of difficult to miss. Her body shuddered in response, even though it had orgasmed not twenty minutes before. The crop retreated as soon as it discovered she was wet. Jenny could curse the fact, but it didn't seem to matter because whatever Mark did to her she was doomed to drown in a pool of her own arousal. She still felt cold from the ice-play and the tiles under her knees and legs did not help to regulate her overall body temperature. When his fingers began to knead her backside, not unlike an unbaked loaf of bread, she growled upon her bit. That area of flesh was still very tender. What was he up to? When his fingernails scraped down her left buttock she gritted her teeth. It wasn't really painful, but it was certainly uncomfortable.

Withdrawing his fingernails and nodding to himself, it was just as he suspected. Those buttocks were becoming desensitised to pain. She could do with a top-up to redden those beautiful globes and give her an added inducement to keep the dilator deep inside her. Without warning he cracked the crop across the middle of both buttocks three times in quick succession. The final stroke had her back arching upwards in a lovely convex manner. It had certainly got her attention.

He pressed the tapered head of the dilator towards her sphincter and used his finger and thumb to pull back her ass cheeks, allowing the lubricated head to penetrate more smoothly. It only needed a small twist and a few pumps before it was sucked inside her.

'Perfect.' He rubbed the reddened area of her backside and his eyes took on a dark gleam as she shrank away from his touch. 'Your job is to keep that tight inside you. The first time it drops out you'll get four stripes and a bigger dilator. The next time it will be five stripes and... yes, you've guessed it... a bigger dilator.' He bent down towards her ear again and whispered, 'The third time it drops out you get six stripes, a thick plug to push into your backside, an even thicker plug in your pussy, my cock fucking your mouth and one hell of a ride. Perhaps we should just skip to the third stage and stop all this messing around?' When Jenny's head shook in horror it was an effort not to burst out laughing. What a killjoy this one was. What she didn't know was that there was no way she was not going to suck every last inch of his cock, and he would come all the harder for being made to wait. He sat back to watch Jenny's struggle with her untrained muscles and found that the added adrenaline now flowing through his system was a delicious turn-on.

Her face was drawn in concentration. It was hard work keeping her muscles continuously clenched against the slippery invader. She could still feel the three slices of his crop burning into the flesh of her behind, and had no wish to add to them. As long as she kept concentrating there shouldn't be a problem.

It was nice to be clean. Mark had done a thorough job of removing all the grit and dirt that had begun to irritate her, so at least one of her woes had been taken care of. It was also nice to have her ass filled once more and she was beginning to wonder what it would feel like to have his cock there, imagining Mark's hips thrusting away and slamming into her. She'd always assumed anal sex would be horrible, painful and dirty. Jenny was swiftly rethinking her beliefs. She was desperately aroused by the dilator filling her and had a feeling the pleasure would be multiplied if it was a thick hard cock instead. With her eyes closed behind the blindfold it was too easy to picture his hands on her waist, an arm sneaking up to caress her breast, his cock nudging for entrance and squeezing its way slowly into her tightest of holes. Stop it, she told herself; she had sex on the brain and a twisted maniac manipulating her every move. She should not be provoked by all of these silly games. A drop of saliva dribbled down her chin, hit the floor and sprayed the back of her wrist. She jumped. The dilator made a loud sucking pop and clattered noisily to the floor. Jenny couldn't help it; she was desperately aroused and trembling. Mark's crop was something to be equally admired and feared.

Four minutes. Not bad, he supposed. The quicker the better, in his opinion, as there were only two dilators to go before he got to sample the goodies. Feeling mean, he let the looped leather tip of his crop caress the skin of her inner thighs. An upward stroke, a downward stroke and he proceeded to repeat the action on the other side. He watched as her slight quiver turned into a definite wobble. He then pressed the tip to her clit and gave her three little nudges. They weren't strong enough to cause any harm, but she gasped at each one nonetheless. Good. She was ready to take a little pain for him.

Jenny had expected the thin line of his crop to attack her backside again, but when it landed it attacked both of her outer thighs in quick succession. The shock was probably worse than the pain, but it still smarted cruelly. Then there was silence. Where were the last two? The bastard was going to make her wait for them. Trying to still her shaking body she cursed him every foul word under the sun.

Eventually they struck. Again they were unexpected and hit across her back. From shoulder blade to the base of her spine she had two new welts to contend with, and those produced a definite tingle.

Mark found himself thinking it was a damn shame the girl wasn't his submissive. If she had been he'd have made her thank him for each and every stroke. Although he would never consider taking on a reluctant sub, in her case he could almost be persuaded just for the satisfaction of hearing the bitter tilt to her voice as she breathed her gratitude for his particular brand of discipline. Then he'd make her beg to suck his cock, and why stop there? She would beg to have all of her lovely holes filled, fucked and thrust into and, every now and again, he might take pity on her and do exactly that. Mark shook his head; he was almost as easily distracted as she was. Picking up the medium-sized dilator with renewed purpose he began to work it inside his little filly. This baby would really open her up. At just under four inches in length she wasn't going to like it much.

Grunting and groaning from behind the restrictive rubber bit, Jenny felt her body pushed backwards and forwards by his gradual thrusting. With each push she felt the large object slide further inside her. How much longer was this going to take? The man had been at it for ages. It was already uncomfortable, and when the whole thing was finally buried to the hilt she grimaced. Ow, ow, ow.

'Hold on to that, filly.' He rapped the dilator firmly with his crop and loved the way her backside bucked in response. She was getting mighty sensitive with all of his careful ministrations. Excellent. Mark couldn't wait to find out how long this one would stay in. If it was too long he would intervene with a charming distraction.

It was hard work clenching around something that wanted to burst out of you at every opportunity. Jenny had given up all hope of escape for the moment and for the time being had decided to work on getting herself through the present. It seemed that was going to be difficult enough.
Clench, clench, hug, squeeze, grasp
. The trouble with all this clenching was that a) it hurt, and b) she was getting tired. The dilemma was that a + b = c and that was a whole world of misery.
Clamp, squeeze, hug, tighten
. It was getting harder. She could feel it constantly slipping, vying for escape, and had to make a concentrated effort to pull it back each time.