A Rough Ride: Pony Girl Training in Latex and Leather

A ROUGH RIDE

by

C. P. MANDARA

steamestuff.com

New authors
are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to
hear from you
.

A Rough Ride published in 2014 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.

Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way myself.
Rita Mae Brown

Fight It Out

Mark had already begun to saunter towards his prize. She had directed her delicious gaze into his eyes long enough for him to be called out the winner, and he was in a hurry to claim her. Thoughts of her body under his ignited a whole array of brain cells and made his mouth water. At last he could work on getting the little minx out of his system; over a period of several months, of course, or perhaps years if his luck held. The main thing was that he would be getting his hands on the goodies. He had a very potent itch that required immediate scratching.

Holding his stare in place as he moved forward, he noticed her lips twitch. What was the damn fool trying to do now? Was she trying to speak? He hoped not, for she'd pay dearly for that folly in front of all these people. Another twitch, a shake of her head and then she dropped a bombshell:

'I want the blond one with the boots.'

Mark had to work to make sure his jaw stayed firmly closed. If he'd heard correctly, and he prayed he hadn't, the chit had just chosen a complete bastard to complete her training with. She'd already had a taste of pain with the guy; what on earth was she thinking? The woman was nuts. What she'd endured in the training room was small fry for Levison. It would be a matter of hours before he'd decide to try bigger and better things with her body, and he would put money on the fact that she wouldn't like it. So why choose him? Had he got her all wrong? Was she a diehard masochist through and through? He didn't think so. Perhaps she was blinded by pretty-boy's good looks? There must be another reason. Surely she could not be that shallow. No matter. Thinking fast he decided to call the auctioneer's bluff. The rules stated 'no talking', so in his mind her secondary choice was null and void.

'If you'd be so kind as to hand over her reins,' he politely asked one of the thickset men behind her, whose eyes were still goggling from the outburst. His comment fell on deaf ears because the giant had just managed to gather his wits about him and grab the vicious looking bamboo cane, propped up against the corner of the magnolia wall behind him. His meaty wrist swung in a wide arc before Mark's tensioned fist caught it sharply in mid-air.

'Her reins, gentlemen. I'll see to her chastisement in just a minute.' He released the hand of the monster and eyeballed the guy, who was at least a foot taller than himself, to make sure his message was correctly received. The cane wavered in big-boy's hand before he grimaced and reluctantly backed down.

'Not so fast, Matthews,' drawled a voice from behind him. 'I don't think the little pony likes you. No, I don't think she likes you
at all
. This must be a first, Matthews. Maybe you're getting a little too old for this business? A few too many grey hairs?' Kyle laid on his Deep South accent, thick and syrupy. He didn't want Petal to connect him in any way with the events of yesterday.

Mark turned slowly on his heel and stared at the smug face a couple of metres away from him. He noted that the nose he had smashed his fist through a couple of days ago looked none the worse for wear, unfortunately. If he got the opportunity to break it again he'd make sure he did the job properly.

'Kyle. Pleasure is all mine. Shouldn't you be out somewhere herding cattle? Oh yes, that's right. You're the only cowboy in the history of the US who doesn't know how to use a bullwhip.' Ignoring Kyle's slack jaw, Mark approached the auctioneer and asked for the matter at hand to be clarified.

Matthius was clearly perplexed as to the outcome of the proceedings but not completely stupid. He had money riding on Mark as the victor, but so as not to appear as though he was backing the obvious favourite he made a show of considering the matter, before bending down over his stand to murmur softly in Mark's ear.

'Can I just announce you the winner?' The whisper was a conspiratorial one.

'No, you can't,' said Mark, gritting his teeth, whilst wondering where on earth Albrecht managed to get these people from. 'You need to consult the rule book.'

Matthius pursed his lips. He then chewed upon a knuckle and fiddled with his red silk tie before finally asking, 'We have a rule book?'

'Of course we have a rule book. How can you not know that?' Mark resisted the urge to slap his hand across his forehead.

'Well, I've been here five years and I've never had to use a rule book!'

'Good for you,' said Mark, his dark stare indicating that he was not amused by this knowledge. 'Now you do.' He propped both of his elbows upon the ledge of the auctioneer's podium and tapped his fingers together impatiently.

Matthius scanned the immediate area for any sign of a book. There were a couple of silver ballpoint pens, several sheets of paper with the details of the ponies to be auctioned and his rather crumpled copy of the Daily Mail, from which he had managed to complete approximately half of the 'quick' crossword. There was little else underneath the podium bar his feet and he was at a complete loss as to where a book might be stashed. 'Assuming there really is a rule book, where might it be hidden?'

'It's in the drawer directly under your newspaper. Incidentally, two across is dive, ten across is halcyon, twelve down is renegade and eighteen across is ether.'

Matthius, who had been working the whole morning to try and discover those words with the aid of an internet connection, was not impressed to have his fun curtailed so abruptly. His eyebrows furling in irritation, he fumbled for the drawer in front of him. Pulling out the slim red vellum tome, he perused its contents in a brisk fashion. He was beginning to wonder if he should have backed Levison. What on earth was he supposed to be looking for anyway? Noticing the stares of many of the room's occupants were now upon him and his ultimate decision, he began flipping through the pages with increased vigour.

'Page thirty-two, "if there is a dispute with the outcome of the auction..."' added Mark, after Matthius had been through the book from cover to cover three times.

'Ah, yes, here we are,' said Matthius, and clearing his throat delicately with the air of one who knew what he was speaking about, even though he didn't, he began:

'Rule two point three states that there will be no speech allowed by any of the auctions "equine" participants and,' Matthius ran his finger down the page until he came to the next item he was looking for, 'rule three point four states that the novice shall pick his/her trainer of choice by eye contact alone.' Leaving a delicate pause, he cleared his throat and smiled before announcing, 'So I declare that Mark Matthews is indeed the winner.' There was a small smattering of applause.

'I object.' Kyle had his hands on his hips and his voice rang out loudly around the room. His aggressive stance did not go unnoticed by the auctioneer, who gave a worried look in Mark's direction.

'Can he do that?' Matthius' eyes looked askance at Matthews and all of his previous bluster quickly left him as he scanned the rule book yet again.

'No, he can't,' said Mark loudly, and moved to take Jenny's reins for the second time. His pony was quivering with rage at having being overruled so abruptly, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt at her for having nearly jeopardized the outcome of the auction. She was shortly going to feel his displeasure via the bite of his crop and learn the meaning of obedience, so help him God. But then all his feelings of malice towards his new pet evaporated when her big blue eyes turned upwards to meet his and he caught sight of the malevolence there, displayed for the world to see. It made him want to get down on his knees and kiss her. So much for having been serviced by the two blondes this morning, he thought. His hormones were once again swimming to the parts that vanilla sex couldn't reach.

'Yes, he can.' Kyle watched as Mark's grip descended on the thin leather reins. He winked at Petal and turned to face his opponent.

Mark raised his eyebrow in a bored fashion and waited for whatever rot Kyle was about to spew forth. His annoyance at the delay was more due to the fact that his time with Miss Redcliff would be cut short, rather than any lingering grudge towards Kyle's previous behaviour. He just wanted to get out of here and... into something tight, wet and juicy.

'Rule five point six states that a pony will exercise her own choice with regards to her trainer. She does not want Matthews. She wants me. She chose me and I object to Matthews obtaining her against her will in this one particular decision she is allowed to make.' Kyle looked very pleased with himself.

Mark's head tilted to the side in contemplation, and by the narrow look he gave his combatant it was clear he suspected something was amiss. 'Since when did you read the Albrecht Auction Handbook from cover to cover?'

Kyle ignored him and directed his next words at Matthius. 'Call the Stable owner. There's a number at the back of the rule book to be used in the case of disputes.' A single finger pushed the rim of his Stetson a little higher up his forehead, so he could lavish a glower upon the auctioneer. It was abundantly clear that he was going nowhere until the matter was resolved.

'This is utter nonsense. Untie the pony now!' Mark grabbed Jenny's reins and demanded that she be released instantly.

'I am not going anywhere with you! I have chosen my trainer.'

Jennifer Redcliff still had an impressive set of lungs, especially when you took into consideration that her lung capacity had been reduced by half due the tight corset she was currently sporting. It took a moment for Mark's eardrums to clear before he could fully witness the carnage she had wreaked with her last outburst.

The two giants behind her, now infuriated beyond reason, had both reached for their canes and began thrashing the backside before them with a great deal of enthusiasm. Only after a good ten strokes had befallen their victim did one of them pause briefly in his administrations, in order to reattach her bridle and bit to ensure no further outbursts were forthcoming. The remaining occupants of the room then became rather boisterous and animated, having been given a grand show of entertainment that not even they had bargained for. It was simply unheard of for a pony in Albrecht Stables to break the rules in this manner. Excited jeers and clapping began in earnest from the few remaining bystanders. Spirited ponies were a rare beast in Albrecht and when one did make an appearance the occupants of the stables almost held their breath in glee. Jennifer Redcliff would be the talk of the stables before the day was over.

Mark watched the proceedings with acute disbelief. It was official: the girl was certifiable. He could not help but watch, along with everyone else, as she was given a sound thrashing with the canes. The giants were not particularly gentle with their instruments of torture. They were not used to being thwarted in any shape or form. Biceps rippled, fingers flexed and loud grunts of exertion could be heard as their rods flew everywhere, reflected a thousand times over in the array of ornate mirrors that decorated the room. It was a wonder the Murano chandeliers hadn't started to sway. Mark felt an urgent need to halt the pair, although he couldn't exactly put his finger on why.

'Call the owner now, Matthius. Let's put an end to this dispute.' Mark had to raise his voice to be heard above the din of the zealous spanking, and it was something he did very rarely. Things were not going quite as planned and it didn't happen too often in his world. He was not at all pleased. Watching Miss Redcliff get a good dressing down from the burly black-coverall crew should have had him aroused, but all he wanted to do was stop them in their tracks. He had no problem with her ass getting a sound flogging, but he wanted to be the one to administer it. Watching her face as she tried to slice her teeth through the rubber of her bit, he could only be impressed at the way she held herself taught against her bonds and refused to utter a single sound. How did she have such a high tolerance for pain? Had her earlier words in the barn been more than a mere flippant remark?
I've had worse
. She hadn't answered his question at the time and now he was more than curious about the answer. Had she experienced pain before? She was tightly in control of herself under the pounding canes and while they weren't hard enough to induce tears, she should have been venting some rather nasty noises about now. She would remain an enigma for the time being, but he intended to get to the bottom of it.