The Riding School (Pony Tales) (2 page)

Jenny had just at that moment found an enormously large collection of rubber ovals, tapering at both ends and rather fat in the middle. She was not a complete idiot. She
'd browsed through sex catalogues on occasion and was fairly certain that these were what were termed as 'butt plugs'. Alarmingly, quite a few of them had long black tails attached to their flat end. That was enough to send her over the edge. In the next instant she screamed and dashed for the door.

'
We have a bolter,' said Agnes. 'Batten down the hatches.'

Silenced and Me
asured for Size

Henrietta was already ahead of her, having pressed a button by her bench which slammed the door shut and locked it. It had come in useful on more than one occasion. Not all the occupants at this facility were willing, but they all had one thing in common. They paid a very large sum of money to be here. Exactly how much depended on their circumstances, but Henrietta managed in one glance to see the figure of £500,000 standing out on the form in bold black numbers. It seemed that Mr Redcliff really,
really
, wanted his daughter to get the full works.

Agnes grabbed one of Jenny
's arms and let Henrietta take the other. They'd practised the move many times before and, as usual, it went like clockwork. Mind you, they'd not come across anyone with a black belt in Karate yet, so there was always the possibility that a filly might escape one day. It was very unlikely, but not impossible. Unfortunately for Jenny, she had no such training in martial arts. As soon as Henrietta bent one of her arms around behind her back and up towards her neck, the pain nearly crippled her and she almost fell to her knees.

'
There, there, dearie. Play nicely and we'll not have to use those sorts of tactics on you again,' Agnes said in a soothing tone. Agnes didn't think much of doling out pain; she left that to the various Mistresses and Masters who made the very act an art form. Agnes was in this job because she loved leather and because the pay was extremely good. She intended to have a retirement home in the south of France in a couple of years, hopefully complete with a fully trained pony of her own.

Henrietta took one look at Agnes and rolled her eyes. The old dear was daydreaming yet again.
'Agnes, Agnes!'

Agnes shook her head momentarily.
'Hmm?'

'
I thought we might let our new filly take a brief rest. What say you?' Henrietta eyed the horse purposefully.

'
Oh, good idea, Hetty,' said Agnes, immediately following her train of thought and together they began to pull Jenny in the direction of the leather horse.

Jenny was not going to have any of that. Kicking and clawing, scratching and biting, she let out a scream that could have broken all the windows in the neighbouring village. It didn
't do her any good. Agnes simply yanked the arm she had imprisoned back upwards and Henrietta lifted the girl off her feet and tried to gently deposit her on the horse. With a straggle of limbs doing the spaghetti dance, it didn't work quite the way it was intended and Jenny landed on her back with rather a good thump. If it were possible, the screaming intensified.

The ladies wasted no time applying the straps which would hold the trainee down. Agnes took care of her ankles, making neat loops with the leather and yanking them tight until they were aligned with the legs of the horse. Henrietta worked at more than twice the speed, managing two arms, a body strap around the waist, one around the neck and another circling the forehead. Reaching down to pull a lever beneath the horse, she split the bottom half in two, splaying Jenny
's legs neatly. The trainee's movement was now limited to around two inches of leeway from one side to the other. Pulling one of the pencils out of her unruly chignon, she made sure that the width of the pencil could easily be fitted inside each restraint. They took safety very seriously at the Pony Rides Hotel and she wasn't going to be the first to lose a victim by choking them accidentally. 'We're good,' she finally announced, having to yell over the screeching noise Jenny will still making.

Agnes tossed Hetty some wax earplugs and applied her own. They wouldn
't need them in a few moments, but measurements had to be taken and it was murder on your eardrums to listen to that kind of noise for any length of time. She then proceeded to get out her tape measure and bending over Jenny's face began to measure the exact length of her lips. The trainee tried to bite her, which was expected and Hetty responded by giving her a sharp, stinging slap which stilled her movements for long enough to get the required information. It looked as though this one would require the petite selection of rubber bit gags, which was quite unusual and might even make her highly prized if someone managed to train her properly. Agnes wrote the details down in her notebook and added a tongue port for good measure. A tongue port was a great piece of kit which fitted over the bit gag and ensured that a) no intelligible speech would be heard from the pony and b) it prevented the pony's tongue from playing with the bit in any way. She suspected the lucky trainer would need all the help they could get in the mastering of this filly. Taking measurements around Jenny's head for bridle, blinker and blindfold attachments, she quickly finished her notes and began rummaging around in the drawer next to her. Spotting a small orange ball gag with a simple black leather strap, she wasted no time pressing it into Jenny's lips.

Unsurprisingly Jenny didn
't let the invasive object in willingly and it was Hetty who pinched her nostrils together and waited for her to draw breath, which in turn allowed Agnes to apply enough pressure to push the ball inside her mouth. The strap was quickly fastened around her head by means of a single buckle. All screaming abruptly ceased, to be replaced with a muffled groaning noise of a much more acceptable volume. As if frustrated by the lack of noise she was able to make, the trainee increased her struggles to virtually no effect with the tight restraints binding her.

Fishing her earplugs out and throwing them in the general direction of the bin, Hetty sighed.
'That's better. Are you getting the scissors out or am I?' she asked. Agnes didn't reply. Shaking her head, she tapped her on the arm and pointed to her ears. Agnes got the message.

'
Sorry Hetty, did you say something?'

'
I said, are you getting the scissors or shall I?' Henrietta made cutting motions with her fingers.

'
Oh, right. I'll do it and you can write down the details, if that's all right. Hetty didn't bother to respond, searching around for her pencil which had somehow disappeared. Pulling out another one from her hair, she frowned as a curly red tendril flopped onto her cheek. Eyeing it with displeasure she said, 'I need a haircut.'

Agnes picked up a pair of dressmaking shears and raised her eyebrows enquiringly.

'From a professional, dear,' said Hetty in response. 'Now get to work, no dillydallying. We're off schedule by three hours already, heaven help us if we delay the lass any further. Her ass will be redder than a strawberry.'

Agnes didn
't need to be told twice and began cutting through the fabric of Jenny's jeans, starting from the bottom and working her way up. She cut a long slice through the entire left side of the jeans and then began on the right, humming as she did so.

Jenny was almost positive this had to be a nightmare. If it wasn
't, her dad would be notified soon enough and would make sure these idiots paid handsomely for their mistake. This sort of thing didn't happen in this day and age. She had rights. She wanted a lawyer and a very heavy baseball bat, not necessarily in that order. Tied down to the table and gagged, she was only just holding herself together. Please, dear God, she prayed, don't let it get any worse. That was before they started cutting away her clothes.

The jeans slid off easily in two sections and Agnes let them drop to the floor. That just left brown ankle boots, some socks and a pair of black lace panties to dispose of on her lower half. The first two were removed by hand and the panties melted under the pressure of the sharp steel blade. The top half was considerably easier, consisting of just an angora sweater and a matching black lace bra. The glinting scissors slid effortlessly through wool and lace, leaving the subject of their attentions swiftly naked.

Anger had replaced shock in Jenny's face. Did they not know that her designer jeans cost over four hundred pounds? The sweater was closer to eight hundred and would be impossible to replace as it was one of a kind. She wanted to gouge their eyes out. How dare they? Struggling futilely at the thick brown straps that bound her, Jenny tried hard to make her concerns known, but the sound that came out was nothing more than a croak. It took some moments to realise that ruined designer clothes were the least of her worries. She was naked, she was gagged and she was wide open for a reason. A tendril of fear began to take root.

'
She really is quite pretty, don't you think?' said Agnes, her tape measure back in her fingers once more.

Henrietta paused and took a good long look at the trainee before her.
'She's not bad, I suppose, with her long black hair, deep blue eyes, raspberry-tinted lips and long, thick eyelashes. Then if you take the clear ivory flesh into account, small but perfectly proportioned breasts, blush-coloured areola and pussy lips, then yes, I suppose she could fetch quite a sum if properly trained.' Hetty turned to Agnes who was daydreaming once more. 'But don't get your hopes up, Aggie, she's far too feisty to ever achieve the black. She'll be lucky to manage the green.'

Agnes sighed heartily.
'There goes my bonus.' Both ladies were awarded a bonus on the final training report of the slaves they outfitted. The more accurately a slave was outfitted, supposedly, the better colour collar they could achieve. Between them they had never managed more than the coral and each collar upwards from white doubled the bonus in size. 'I'm telling you, Hetty, I need to retire soon. My bones need sunshine.'

'
Hurry up and get to work, Agnes. We're on a timescale here.' Hetty poised her pencil above her pad and waited expectantly. In a matter of seconds she was scribbling furiously. Measurements for martingales, reins, saddles, corsets, bodysuits, chambons, cross ties, hobbles, surcingles, polo wraps, tails and the obligatory saddle. Then it was time for the ladies to discuss the materials they would need, the stitching, the colours, the finish and the required quantity of each item. As there were no monetary restraints for this particular pony, it was a more enjoyable task than usual.

'
She's going to look gorgeous, when she's all trussed up and ready to trot,' sighed Henrietta.

Jenny tried to make as much noise as she could through the rubber ball, whilst struggling madly. She managed nothing more than a muffled grunt and about an inch of leverage with the leather straps that were clearly not going to give, no matter how much she pulled at them. Meanwhile, the cold tape measure wrapped itself around her body again and again. These people, whoever they were, were talking as if she didn
't even exist. She was Jenny, she was not a filly, she was not a pony and she was certainly not going to be an animal for someone's entertainment.

She
'd listened to the long list of tack items that were being discussed in horror. Knowing what each piece was used for on a real horse and having most of the items readily on display here in the human tack room had just about turned her insides to liquid. For instance, she knew that a chambon was used to control the carriage of a horse's head and that cross ties would ensure a horse stayed relatively straight and upright, making sure there was no fidgeting or turning. Hobbles, as the name suggested, would prevent kicking and restrict all but the smallest of movements. Surcingles circled the waist and enabled the trainer to teach proper head carriage, whilst polo wraps were basically leggings for horses, providing a degree of protection to the wearer. She could not be forced to wear any of this, could she? Trying to slow her breathing and think sensibly, she reasoned that there must be some way out of this mess. Unfortunately, it was very hard to be reasonable when you were tied down without the use of your voice.

'
I think we're ready for the internal, Hetty,' said Agnes, winding her tape measure in circles around her hand.

Internal what? Jenny thought in panic, already assuming the worst.

'Right ho, dearie,' said Hetty, searching for something in a squeaky wooden drawer.

Jenny
's eyes didn't leave Henrietta as she watched her slowly pull two clear latex gloves out of a box with an audible snap. One by one she struggled with the rubber until she'd squeezed all her pudgy fingers inside. Cracking her knuckles slowly, she smiled at Jenny. It was supposed to be a reassuring look. The next words that came out of her lips were, 'Don't worry sweetheart, I'll be very gentle,' but they were wasted.

Jenny had fainted clean away.

The Exam, Part I

'Oh Hetty, do you have to do that? You know it scares some of the newbies,' said Agnes reprovingly.

'
Most of them enjoy it, Aggie, and let's face it, you need to let them know what's coming.'