Read Hot to Trot Online

Authors: C. P. Mandara

Tags: #Contemporary

Hot to Trot (11 page)

'Right, out you go. You're late enough as it is.' MG opened the door wide and waited for Jenny to pass through.

'Remember, no orgasms,' added Poppy, her eyelashes still flopping up and down. She raised a hand, as did many of the others, and waved goodbye.

Jenny didn't think they'd mind too much if she didn't return the favour. Now, was that it? She was free to trot off to the hotel? That could be a problem, as she had no idea where the hotel was. It was also bloody difficult to balance on these ridiculous hoof boots. She'd probably get there sometime around midnight. Speaking of the time, Jenny dearly wished she'd worn a watch that morning. Food would be good, too; proper food with calories and taste. The only thing that would gratify her more at this moment in time was imminent rescue. And speaking of rescue, it shouldn't be too long now. Looking up to the heavens she witnessed beautiful tongues of orange flame that set the summer sky alight with colour.

'You're fond of a good sunset too, are you dearie?' a familiar voice rang out from behind her.

Jenny turned her head to discover Agnes waiting for her, sat on a wooden chair by the door. Ah, so she hadn't been abandoned. Taking her time to get to her feet, Agnes heaved an old leather handbag over her shoulder and rummaged inside. Please, no tack, thought Jenny in dismay. She already had more than enough to cope with this evening. Thankfully Agnes simply produced a length of silver chain and fastened it to the D-ring on Jenny's collar.

'Stable regulations.'

Jenny wanted to stamp her feet, having had more than her fair share of 'stable regulations' today. Stable regulations had seen her nails hacked off her fingertips, her gorgeous, silky black hair mowed down with a pair of clippers, her not-so-silky pubic hair plucked at painfully and her hands and feet rendered about as much use as a chocolate lunchbox. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble in protest. She rolled her eyes and tried again; about as much use as a box of condoms in a nunnery, then. This time her stomach did not disagree.

Agnes walked at a slow and sedate pace, which turned out to be both good and bad. It allowed Jenny to follow her without stumbling, even minus the use of her arms to aid balance, but it also allowed the passers-by to yell catcalls, jeers and crude innuendos. The odd flying object came her way once or twice, but thankfully missed. Although Jenny tried desperately to crane her neck this way and that for a view of the hotel, her ridiculous get-up proved too restrictive. She gave a loud grunt of frustration.

'Stop all that wiggling, child,' said Agnes, pulling sharply on the lead.

Jenny gurgled in response.

'You're a pony now, and ponies do not wiggle. They do not move their heads this way and that, either. They stand tall and proud and they display all their very pretty assets to their best advantage; even when they are aroused to distraction, which is most of the time. Ah, good. Here we are.'

Agnes stopped in front of a large wooden building. It was not a hotel. It had wide doors - just like a stable; it had stalls and hay - just like a stable; and it smelt just like a stable. She had just reached the gates of hell and was about to go into the inferno beyond. Jenny had so many woes right now; she didn't even know where to start. Where were her hands? She needed them, in the absence of a mirror, to feel what they'd done with her hair and finger her clit silly. Then the use of her mouth would be nice. She wanted to talk, about anything and everything, but she just wanted to hear the sound of her own voice. She wanted the plug out of her ass and she wanted the egg out, too. Or did she? And she wanted to stop dribbling, wear clothes, eat proper food, put some makeup on, murder Matthews and get rescued. This place had just about tipped her over the edge and she was now plummeting into the realms of insanity. She had to get out. The salty little rainstorm that had been brewing inside her finally broke free and she sobbed.

'There, there, don't cry, dearie. I can't bear to see anyone upset,' said Agnes, rooting around in the sizeable handbag before managing to spot something of interest. She pulled out a pristine white hankie, with pink roses painstakingly embroidered around the edges, and mopped at Jenny's eyes, trying to stem the flood. There was a brief silence as Agnes struggled to find the right words with which to calm the pony. Finally she said, 'I know it seems hard right now, but give it a couple of days and you'll come to love it. All the ponies do. You just need to find the right trainer. You'll have more sex each day than you've ever had in your life and it will be bloody good sex, too.' Agnes wiped away a few more tears. 'Just take one day at a time and soon enough you'll be smiling the smuggest smile known to womankind. Pony-girls are adored and worshipped here. Yes, they get a hard spell in training but when it's over you'll be having the time of your life. I should know.' Agnes dabbed at her eyes again. 'It's a good job they removed your makeup, sweetie.'

Jenny's sobs had quietened to little snuffles. Agnes hadn't really calmed her, but her curiosity was somewhat piqued. Agnes had been a pony-girl? Was that what she had meant? But Agnes must be nearing sixty years old, so that meant they'd been training pony-girls here for, what, thirty-odd years or more? How did this sort of thing stay underground?

Satisfied that the pony had composed herself, Agnes took out a key and opened the stable door. She unbuckled her bridle and removed the bit from her teeth, before proceeding to release the single karabiner which had pinned her hands behind her back.

'It's time for your first night with Albrecht's gorgeous fillies,' she said with a wink. We keep the stallions in another block, in case you were wondering. 'They're a friendly bunch, but remember - no talking and no orgasms. Now off you go.' She used her hand to usher her inside.

Looking at the gloom beyond, Jenny didn't have much choice but to stagger forward on her hooves. What was she going to do, run away? As the door closed silently behind her, her world went completely black for a moment. Her eyes needed time to adjust to the dark. Cracking her jaw from side to side, loosing up her rather stiff mouth she could at least be thankful for the opportunity to use her voice, if indeed there was anybody inside this shed. Stepping forward cautiously, anxious not to fall over in her ludicrous boots, she finally found a pile of hay and flopped awkwardly upon it. There was a moment of silence. Straining her eyes to try and see, she jumped when someone spoke out loud.

'Well just look what we have here, ponies,' purred a voice full of predatory, sexual intent, 'a newbie on a no-orgasm promise.'

The stable erupted with lascivious laughter, and Jenny was descended upon...

 

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The next stage of Jenny's training into the world of pony play is also published by us and available to download from Amazon now...

 

 

Named and Shamed

 

Gritting her teeth Jenny grimaced and gave him what he wanted; the lewd sight of her backside jiggling this way and that as he continued to spank it. His hand now felt like sandpaper on the sensitised flesh. How much longer would she have to endure this? The clamps continued to bite into her tender nipples, and as she swayed to and fro she could feel them moving with her, the ache increasing with each passing second.

 

If Jenny thought life was hard under the expert tutelage of Mark, being faced with a stable full of sex-starved pony girls poses several more challenges. For instance, how do you bring eleven women to orgasm in a timely fashion? But to her surprise, tackling the problem with experimentation and enthusiasm, she finds herself enjoying the experience.

 

When training begins it is anything but enjoyable, however. Harnessed in pony girl tack, her body is encircled with leather, rubber and steel. It nips, chafes and rubs cruelly, especially when she's faced with a morning of naughty games in the exercise yard.

 

In Book Four of Pony Tales Jenny earns herself several punishments and has to submit to the whims of her groom, trainers and even the stable-hands. Will rescue arrive or will she have to beg to be released, with nothing more than her body as currency?

 

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Hungry

Bottoms Up

Anal Training

Evil Games

Perfect Timing

Suck, Sucking, Sucked

Prepared for Pony Play

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