Learning the Ropes

LEARNING THE ROPES

by

C. P. MANDARA

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Learning the Ropes published in 2013 by Steam eStuff.

This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright C. P. Mandara. The right of C. P. Mandara to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

Book Two - Learning the Ropes

The Art of Crawling

Mr Nasty was searching for something. He was at the back of the tack room, rifling through the contents of an ottoman. Nestled amongst the thigh-high pony boots he looked oddly out of place, not that it seemed to bother him. As he bent himself over the wooden box Jenny caught her breath. The clinging white riding breeches and a near perfect backside were making her heart beat a marathon-like pulse in exertion. He was going to give her a coronary if he didn't straighten up soon. On the plus side, he had taken her mind off more pressing concerns.

Mark was almost rubbing his hands in glee, thinking about the little sightseeing trip he had planned. When he finally shut the lid of the ottoman there were several metres of white hemp rope in his hand. It would come in useful as her tour would be completed on all fours. It would give her an excellent insight as to what her training would entail. It would give him an excellent view of her wiggling ass as she crawled from room to room.

He was particularly looking forward to visiting the dungeon, as that particular room would open her eyes both to what would be expected of her and what would happen if she decided to play naughty. He had a fondness for disobedient ponies. Alas, under his hand they never stayed mischievous for long. He had a suspicious feeling that this trainee might prove the exception. The thought of a healthy challenge made his mouth water with excitement.

Hetty and Aggie had offered to stay and help him bind the trainee, but he had dismissed them with his thanks. He knew they had plenty of work ahead of them with the preparation of her tack and he didn't wish to delay them further. The sooner they had her new apparel, the better. In a few hours' time he would find her a crude harness which would help with her adjustment from human to horse. It wouldn't be a patch on what she'd be made to wear eventually, but it would certainly get her used to the idea of being owned and controlled by another. At the very least it would reinforce her new station in life: a slave sold into bondage. She needed to get her head around that important fact and he suspected it would take some time.

He completed most of the rope work whilst Jenny was still strapped to the horse, looping it around her elbows and knees several times and tying various knots, ignoring her numerous protests. He had no wish to use his crop just yet, preferring to keep the strength of his stroke as a nice surprise for later.

Mark didn't think that the cosseted little rich girl would have had much experience in dealing with pain and he was looking forward to being the one who would introduce her to it. Trainees usually went one way or the other at their first real taste. They either burst into tears at the mere slap of a hand or they gritted their teeth and gave you the 'look', which basically meant that if they ever managed to retain use of their limbs they were going to use them to kill you. Personally he liked a bit of spirit. It showed character.

Satisfied he had coiled enough rope around the naked girl in front of him, Mark searched for one last item. She was going to need a collar. It needed to be white and it needed to be a nice thick one. Called a 'posture collar' it would ensure that she kept her shoulders straight and her head forward and erect at all times. As well as teaching good posture, it would also get her accustomed to the way ponies would be expected to execute proper carriage at all times, even whilst trotting or cantering. It would be uncomfortable initially, but eventually it would become almost as natural as sleeping, not that she'd be doing much of that for a while.

Finding a suitable four inch collar, he released the leather restraint around her neck. Gently bunching her long black hair into a ponytail, to ensure it didn't get trapped inside, he quickly fastened the two silver buckles at the rear that would hold it in place. Mark decided that was quite enough of the softly-softly approach. He tugged her hair sharply to get her attention and was rewarded with a grimace of pain. Her glorious blue eyes looked at him and widened like saucers as he spoke.

'I'm about to release you from the horse. You'll have noticed that you have more rope on your person than an Everest mountaineer and you should also note that fast movements will cause friction. Plenty of friction will, in turn, cause burns. You've been warned. If you'd like to glance down and admire my fancy rope work in a minute, you'll also see that the rope is looped liberally around your elbows and knees, one piece of rope joining your elbows together, another your knees and a third runs down the middle connecting them both. The middle connection is only a few inches in length. This will prevent you from walking on two legs, unless you have amazing balance and the desire to look like an Orang-utan. To be fair, my riding crop will also prevent you from walking on two legs, but feel free to try the monkey-thing out as it will greatly amuse me. Essentially, you're going to be crawling on all fours.' Mark paused for a second. 'Well, more of a shuffle really. You'll get used to it.'

Jenny watched as he released the straps imprisoning her body one by one. Inwardly she fumed. She was naked, gagged, dirty, and the revolting plug in her backside throbbed insistently. Her neck was being stretched uncomfortably high by the collar and to make matters worse, the yards of rope that covered her body itched and teased her flesh with the slightest of movements. She was still suffering the tormented pangs of orgasm denial and it was unpleasant, to say the least. How dare they do this to her? If Mark thought he'd get his kicks watching her crawl, he had another think coming.

As the last strap fell away from her body she quickly considered her options. There were only two and they featured her playing nicely and giving these people an awful lot of entertainment at her expense or not playing at all, which was the choice she favoured. She was pretty certain that he wouldn't be allowed to hurt her in any way, so most of his threats would probably be full of hot air. It was time to test the theory.

As the last restraint was removed Mark watched as Jenny gradually slithered down the horse towards the floor. She couldn't stop the downward motion as the bench she'd been laying on carried a slight downward angle and had become slick with her sweat and arousal. Her flailing hands tried desperately to slow her descent, but as there was nothing to grasp she landed roughly on her backside in a disjointed heap. He observed, with some enjoyment, that the trainee was already wearing 'the look'. This should be interesting, he thought.

Cursing inwardly, as there was little chance of getting coherent speech past her gag, Jenny's first reaction upon falling was to try and stand up immediately. The rope wasn't cooperative. Falling flat on her face in a very inelegant pose, she conceded that she wouldn't be standing up on two feet just yet, but neither was she crawling. Curling herself up into a tight ball, she remained silent with her eyes facing downwards. Jenny didn't need to see the laughter in Mark's eyes to know it was there.

Mark couldn't help but marvel at the submissive pose Jenny had just made, even though she was unaware of the fact. If she ever managed to lose the attitude, he had a feeling she'd be a natural. Her initiation to the world of submission would prove to be a tricky one, mostly due to her upbringing, but she'd already proved that the idea aroused her. Before the day was finished, he knew without a doubt that she'd be begging for an orgasm. That was another area that would be new to her, begging for each and every little treat that she might have the chance to encounter. It would be a sharp learning curve. Unfortunately the staff here would have a special interest in Miss Redcliff and she was going to have a harder ride than most, he suspected.

There was a moment of silence and then Jenny felt her hair wrapped around Mark's fist once more. She prepared herself for another round of painful tugging, but unexpected, gentle pressure had her head moving upwards to meet his and their eyes connected. Time stood still for her. It was true, time literally slowed to the consistency of treacle. It was as if she was a rabbit caught in the glare of a pair of headlights and what was worse, was the fact that he didn't seem to be affected at all. This was one-sided. He finally broke contact with her gaze, which was just as well because she wouldn't have been able to do so if her life had depended on it.

The length of her stare had not gone unnoticed. Mark knew the effect he had on women and, thankfully, he was immune to their charms in that department. In all other departments he enjoyed them to the fullest, but love? They could keep that. After today's session was over with the look would be replaced with something akin to hatred. It was for the best. He'd hurt her, however things managed to turn out, but a few stripes from a cane versus unrequited love was the more palatable dish on the menu for all concerned.

Grabbing her glossy mane a little tighter, he brought her head up to meet his.

'Have I got your attention?'

Jenny figured she didn't need to respond to that question, not that she would have been able to.

'Good. I know you've already decided there's no way in Hades you're going to crawl for me and I don't have a problem with that. I'm just letting you know in advance that if you don't crawl, I drag. The wood floor in here will probably just be rather uncomfortable, but the concrete one in the corridor will do some damage.' Having said that, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a thick length of metal chain which he quickly clipped to the D-ring on the front of her collar. Then, true to his word, he pulled.

Jenny quickly realised there were rather large holes in her earlier theory. Being dragged along a polished wood floor wasn't pleasant. Her backside and the underside of her thighs scraped and bumped and burned as he dragged her towards the door. She remembered the concrete corridor and it didn't take her long to realise that the abrasive flooring would literally scrape the skin off her body in seconds. She was proud but she wasn't stupid. The man had meant every word he'd said and it was a struggle to right her body on all fours and begin crawling before they reached the rough, grey surface. As it was, her left knee scraped and drew blood before he paused to see whether she had complied with his wishes.

Mark stopped walking as soon as he'd seen his trainee move on all fours. He pulled the backing off a large rectangular shaped plaster he had ready in his hand and applied it to her knee. It was somewhat of a surprise that he'd only needed to use one, as the daughter had a reputation much like that of the father for extreme stubbornness. Continuing to lead her with the leash, but at a pleasantly sedate pace, he was confident there would be no more bloodshed. He didn't have a problem with blood, but if there were smears all over the floor some of the newer trainees tended to go into swoon mode.

Jenny was rip-roaringly mad. Being led around like a pet animal was at the tip of her iceberg of woes. The man appeared to read her like a book and was one step ahead of her at each and every turn. He had a distinct advantage, too. He'd done this before, probably with countless other women. While that was bad enough, she could have just about coped had she not found the man devastatingly attractive. For some reason he made her blood sing and she didn't like the feeling one little bit. Narrowing her eyes, Jenny reasoned she'd get her chance to get even with Mr Know-it-all. And she'd only need one.

The Exercise Room

Following Mark out into the corridor, Jenny found the easiest way to move was a quick shuffle, arms first and then legs. Crawling wasn't an option due to the short nature of the rope connecting her knees and elbows. Her odd, shuffling gait served to enrage her further. At least crawling could be deemed as sexy. What she was doing was demeaning and humiliating. The odd thing was it seemed to arouse her. That would be a fun conversation with her therapist when this charade was all over. The only thing keeping her sane at the moment was the fact that this couldn't last more than twenty-four hours. Her Dad would be expecting a call this evening, so she could expect rescue at the very latest first thing tomorrow morning. No-one messed with her father. Already counting the minutes down, she watched as Mark opened the next large door along the concrete passage. This one had the words
Exercise Room
in the same black and red antique lettering as before. There was little choice but to follow him inside.