wonder no one ever escaped from this hellhole.
'One last thing, Poppy, if you please.' MG handed her aide a glittery red object, made of plastic.
Jenny eyed the thing with panic. Its long oval shape was an immediate giveaway. Polkadots popped the thing in her mouth and began sucking it.
'Don't worry; this plug is only a tiny one as we know you've had a hard day. It's got a darling little flower on the end of it and all the other ponies are going to love it. You're going to be a popular one this evening.' Polkadots winked.
Poppy began working the plug, sticky with her saliva, into Jenny's weary backside, which was not amused. It wriggled this way and that, but discomfiture aside, the trainee's thoughts were elsewhere. Stables? No, they definitely must have meant hotel. Was that just a cute pony term for lodgings?
With a pop the plug was secured in her bottom. Her libido was going into overdrive, again. When Polkadots finished and gave her clit a flick for good measure, Jenny nearly came on the spot.
'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
'One last thing, Poppy, if you please.' MG handed her aide a glittery red object, made of plastic.
Jenny eyed the thing with panic. Its long oval shape was an immediate giveaway. Polkadots popped the thing in her mouth and began sucking it.
'Don't worry; this plug is only a tiny one as we know you've had a hard day. It's got a darling little flower on the end of it and all the other ponies are going to love it. You're going to be a popular one this evening.' Polkadots winked.
Poppy began working the plug, sticky with her saliva, into Jenny's weary backside, which was not amused. It wriggled this way and that, but discomfiture aside, the trainee's thoughts were elsewhere. Stables? No, they definitely must have meant hotel. Was that just a cute pony term for lodgings?
With a pop the plug was secured in her bottom. Her libido was going into overdrive, again. When Polkadots finished and gave her clit a flick for good measure, Jenny nearly came on the spot.
'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
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