A Rough Ride: Pony Girl Training in Latex and Leather (26 page)

The blade crept over her flesh and occasionally pricked her, its cold point warning of the dangers of sudden movement. Jenny didn't know how long she held her breath for, but she did know her heart was doing flip-flops. The buzzing clit stimulator had her hips wanting to burst into song and dance, and it was all she could do to keep them in check. She allowed her body a tiny, shallow breath and clenched herself tightly as the urge to bounce back and forth in pleasure overtook her. She wasn't sure whether the biggest torment was feeling the knife casually rip her suit to shreds or curbing her body from movement. Kyle's earlier words were not comforting. Would he leave her in here, all alone? The boredom alone would drive her insane. What about food and water? He wouldn't be allowed to just abandon her, would he?

All these thoughts and more ran riot through her head as the blade tripped and fell in jagged little bursts. Locked in her own little world of terror and dread, she almost didn't realise when he began tearing at the rubber, peeling parts of the sticky fabric from her skin. Her suit chose that moment to up the ante and her hips did buck then, feeling the dildos pound inside her and bring her to the edge of the word 'despondent'. The expected shock ripped through her just before the peak of relief was achieved and left her maddened, her whole body shaking with a raw kind of rage that threatened to rival the sentiment she felt for her father. She would get out of here and she would get even.

When the toothbrush came at her the sensation was almost pleasant at first. A few mere tickles as the soft bristles were manipulated over the holes in her suit. Jenny squirmed. Her whole body was over-sensitised due to the effects of the device and her world had grown a whole lot smaller with the addition of earplugs and a blindfold. Bizarrely enough, the toothbrush sent shivers of arousal down her spine and as the pressure slowly increased she craved the gradual increments and the slight touch of pain they departed.

Closing her eyes, because there was little point leaving them open, her mind concentrated solely on the subtle shift of her breathing and the feel of the brush strokes across her skin. Kyle had begun a pleasing rhythm and she relaxed into it, letting the heat sink deep into her skin. It was all going swimmingly well until the image of Mark Matthews came flitting across her brain out of nowhere, and bam, there he was in front of her.

Kyle took a couple of seconds to admire his handiwork. Not bad, even if he did say so himself, but it was about to get a whole lot better. He'd begun gently, starting with the humble toothbrush in order to lull her into a false sense of security. The pressure he used initially would be just enough to wake her skin up. It would give her something to concentrate on in the dark little hole he had immersed her in. He worked each little piece of his pattern with careful strokes, barely pinking the flesh as he went to work on his masterpiece. She would now begin to understand what was coming and what the other items he had gathered in front of her would be used for. It didn't normally take them too long to figure it out. When she did he expected some struggling. That would aid him as he worked her over with the emery board and scouring pad. The more squirming the better, in his opinion. When the sandpaper came out she would be crying and when he finished with the mentholated oil, well, let's just say that things would be getting a little nasty.

The emery board came at her skin with a good deal more enthusiasm than the toothbrush and that was when it dawned on Jenny that the end of this scenario was not going to be a pleasant experience. From behind the privacy of her black prison her eyes opened and widened instinctively. Sandpaper, she'd seen sandpaper for chrissakes! That was going to sting. Why didn't he just flay the skin from her back with a crop and have done with it. At the rate he was going they would be here for hours. The idea of hyperventilation crossed her mind, but she thought the better of it. Could she withstand the pain? Probably. She'd had a good deal of experience with the stuff. That didn't mean to say that when the muscle rub came at her she'd be able to keep silent. She might be able to withhold her tears, but it would be a close-run thing. She knew where this was headed. Kyle had found out that she didn't mind a good spanking, so he was going to do his best to make sure her final thrashing was anything but pleasant.

The nail file was a difficult beast to wield properly and it wasn't long before he had given up his game, but he had done enough. Her skin had started a slow burn that no amount of water could ever extinguish. When the steel wool came at her she felt her body buck in agony.

'There, there, hold still, Petal. We're almost halfway.'

His words were the tiniest echo in her head, but he made sure she heard them. Halfway? He had to be joking, but his slow, repetitive strokes belied her thoughts. He was going to drag this out. Nothing less than tears and total surrender would satisfy him. So she did the only thing she could do and retreated in on herself. It was far easier than it should have been with the earplugs and blindfold keeping all other distractions at bay. She focused on the pain, isolated it within her head and let it wash over her body. It was a bizarre kind of meditation technique, but it worked, taking the edge off the pain and softening the edges to a dull ache. Her mind concentrated on nothing more than the image of a flickering candle flame, her attention glued to the black spot at the base of the flicker. It wasn't an easy game to master, but she'd had plenty of practice at it. The hardest part was keeping stray thoughts at bay.

'You're tougher than you look,' commented Kyle loudly, his mouth hovering above her latex-clad ear. Running his fingers over his angry red handiwork he hoped for a reaction. He didn't get one. Not even the slightest murmur escaped her.

Jenny could imagine him frowning, narrowing his eyes in displeasure as he wondered what to do next. She suspected that most of the girls within the facility would be sobbing by this point, and now she'd denied him that pleasure he would redouble his efforts in order to achieve it. Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.

The sandpaper scraped across her skin and it felt like he was peeling her apart, layer by layer. In all honesty she supposed that was exactly what he was doing. Each slide of the coarse paper across her flesh felt like acid, dissolving her bit by bit. The endorphins in her body were now beginning to reach a dangerous pitch.

When the sandpaper stopped her skin felt raw and messy. It felt like the aftermath of a volcano explosion with rivers of molten lava and craters of simmering steam. The pain was unbearable and it was getting difficult for her to focus her thoughts. There would shortly come a point where the agony overtook everything and no amount of concentration or meditation would help ease it. Trapped in her black void and overwhelmed by conflagration of her body, she prayed that the end of her torment would come soon. When she heard a bottle being vigorously shaken she let out a guttural sob, barely audible through her rubber ball-gag, and trembled all over.

Kyle dragged the moment out. As she tensed and braced herself for the worst he ran his fingers over her excoriated skin. She began struggling in earnest as the smell of the embrocation cream assaulted her nostrils. Pungent and acrid fumes filled the room and she spluttered against the ball inside her mouth. She could just about make out his voice, humming away happily as he prepared to make her suffer. How on the earth did someone with such an angelic face contain the heart and soul of a monster? If there was a God she was now pleading with him, using every fibre she possessed, to get her out of this hellhole with her body mostly intact. Her mind was already gone. As her suit went into overdrive beneath her and began to vibrate, hum, thrust, pound and shake, the tiny coin came down to inflict agonies that even she could not have predicted.

Jenny would have screamed, but her mouth was too tightly stuffed, so she kicked, bucked and squirmed instead; anything to get his coin off target and away from her flesh. When everything went suddenly quiet, for a single stupid second she thought her prayers might have been heard. Her body tensed and stilled, tightly strung out in panic and her ears strained to hear the smallest sounds, but the room had gone eerily silent. It increased her terror tenfold. Where had he gone and what was he up to? The next thing she knew something tight was being wrapped around her neck. All he'd done was go for another restraining device. Cling-wrap, if she wasn't mistaken, judging by the way he was wrapping the stuff around her body, over and over. That way she wouldn't be able to move a muscle when he worked the mentholated oil into her.

Having discerned his plan she began to struggle anew, putting a lot more effort into her game this time, curling up her wrists and trying to thread them back through the cuffs in an effort to break free. The cuffs were far too small and fastened much too tightly, but that didn't stop her trying to tear her arms off in her attempts at freedom. The wrap rolled further down her body, encasing her torso and ass in an unbreakable cocoon of plastic that would make sure she remained as still as a mummified object. He'd left the upper portion of her back free so he could continue his work and made sure the rest of her had the manoeuvrability of a clamped car. She was locked down tight.

The four corners of her mind closed in and began spinning while her breathing became difficult and erratic. Jenny decided that if these were the kind of punishments Kyle employed, they were way past her endurance level and she would do everything the goddamned man said from here on in - including neigh like a horse or bark like a dog. She didn't care any more. This was all about survival and she wanted to live another day. The first thing she needed to do was get rid of Kyle. If she had to become someone's sex slave to do so, that was a small price to pay.

There was the softest of thuds, barely audible through her plugged ears, and she assumed the box of wrap had hit the floor. She tried to remain calm but it was horribly difficult when she knew what was coming next. Sure enough when the coin came down to gently stroke her upper back she had little but murder on her mind. Kyle's. Brutal anger flared brightly in her sub-conscious and her fingers curled into tight fists within her mitts. She was not going to give in and sob because she was well aware that was exactly what the bastard wanted; her complete and utter capitulation.

A few minutes later, although they might reasonably have been seconds, she was rethinking her earlier stance. The mentholated oil was trickling through her pores and it felt like hydrochloric acid. She began to wonder if she was losing her mind. Her body was close to orgasm and although the extent of her suffering had delayed the auto-correct feature of her suit for some time, it would not be long in coming. She, however, would not be coming. Not this time. As the muscle rub scoured her exposed skin she felt silent tears leak down through her blindfold and lay like sodden, wet pools in the latex of her hood. The only thing keeping her sane was the fact that she had not sobbed out loud or struggled within her plastic prison. You can get through this, Jen, she whispered as a mantra inside her head, over and over again.

'Come on, filly. Show me how much you're enjoying this. I want to see you dance.' Kyle had bent down to whisper in her ear and his voice filled her with dread. 'Don't worry, if you don't feel up to it yet you will when I put you in the Objectifier. I'll bury that head down below and take the flogger to your back's new addition before I finish up with the bullwhip. Oh, and I'm considering making my design permanent, what do you think? It would only take a few scrapes with my knife to outline and you'd have a perpetual and enduring reminder of my devotion to you and your training. It's tempting, isn't it?'

A thin, sharp object ran up the latex of her suit and pulled at the rubber. This time the reality of what was about to happen hit home and Jenny couldn't help herself; she struggled with all her might. No way was she going to have an immortalised reminder of this crazy hellhole when she got out. She hoped to God he was fucking with her.

When the knife pressed its point into the seething sea of nerves that littered her back, she screamed. The noise could be heard quite clearly through the gag, so intense was it in volume. Trying to punch her body free of the wrap was proving to be an impossibility. She was glued to the spanking rail far more efficiently than if she'd been encased in cement. The knife bit. Perhaps only a couple of millimetres, but her body went berserk. Shaking, trembling, screaming, dribbling, rearing and kicking - all to no avail. To make matters worse, the sounds of Kyle's laughter could be heard in the background, smug and self-satisfied. The knife had withdrawn for the moment, so she guessed she could be grateful that he found this kind of thing amusing. But her reprieve didn't last long and when the tip pressed at her shoulder blade again she almost begged for deliverance.

Strangely enough, it appeared someone must have heard her, for the knife stopped in its tracks and was retracted. Sobbing openly she felt her heart crashing through her body as she wondered what was going to happen next.

When the knocker to the dungeon door rang out loudly Kyle almost dropped his knife. He swore viciously as he hated being interrupted, and especially just when things were getting good. There was little option, though. He needed to answer his summons and whoever it was had better hope they had a good reason for disturbing him. He wandered over to the door in order to open it.

The cast iron door creaked noisily and he shot daggers forth from his eyes, letting his intruder know how welcome he wasn't.

'Kyle, are you OK?' Damn, it was a she. A blonde head peered around the door cautiously and stared at the mottled bruise on his face.

Fuck. It was Isabelle, and not just any Isabelle. She was dressed from head to toe in skin-tight red leather. Kyle's eyes shot out on stalks, ran two metres down the room and tried to turn the corner. He wanted to pant like a dog in heat. He hoped his tongue managed to remain in his mouth when he replied to her softly whispered question with a, 'Yes, just having a little fun.' His hand went up to gently rub the horseshoe print on his face and he winced. 'Petal was a little feisty this morning when she woke up.'