Named and Shamed (12 page)

'Please, whip me, Sir.' She choked upon the words, sobbing them out.

His hands probed. His tongue licked. His fingers stroked. His body rubbed against hers.

She had to beg a further four times before relief was granted.

When she finally came her body was incandescent with desire. So exhausted was she, in the aftermath, that she slumped against the chair and remained insensible to all around her for several minutes afterward.

Having watched Marianna nearly collapse with exhaustion, Mark cursed. She was not used to this type of exertion and he had used her too hard. She had probably been out for a run this morning with her personal trainer, and after last night's session combined with the fact that she looked like she hadn't seen a decent meal in forever, she wasn't going to be of much use to him. They'd have to work on that. He would issue strict instructions regarding her care this afternoon.

Looking at his watch he cursed again. He was already late and there was no time to remedy this situation. She'd done little to stem his hunger for Miss Redcliff; quite the opposite in fact. He was now determined to have one particular and very spirited pony as his own, come hell or high water.

He'd have to yank a blonde into the car with him for the journey down and let her suck him off. He was not overly fond of blue balls and that needed to be taken care of before he shot off to Albrecht. The thought of in-car entertainment wasn't as pleasing to him as it should have been. For the third time that morning he cursed. This time his venom was for Miss Redcliff alone.

Pretty Pink Petals

There was a long pause before Agnes cautiously called out, 'Hello, anybody there?'

The sound of scraping and banging could be heard, before a pained voice called out, 'S'all right, Agnes, just had a bit of a fall.'

Agnes flung open the door and was greeted by Daniel, sprawled on the concrete amidst what appeared to be a whole armada of perfectly matched Louis Vuitton suitcases.

'Goodness me!' exclaimed Agnes. 'You're not telling me you carried those all the way from the hotel?'

'Didn't have much of a choice,' grumbled Daniel. 'These need to be put in her cart in the exercise yard so she can earn her yellow collar. If I'd realised how many of the bloody things she'd brought I'd have requested a sodding B52 bomber to airlift them.' Hetty raised an eyebrow. 'Sorry about me language, Ma'am,' he said, casting his eyes downward whilst looking duly chastised.

'I think we'll let it go just this once,' said Agnes, who surveyed the mess thoughtfully.

'I don't know how I'm going to get down to the paddock with 'er in tow as well,' said Daniel.

Agnes smiled at the young lad, who looked ready to drop, and winked. 'Now don't you worry. There's an easy solution to that problem.'

'There is?' Hetty looked up at her friend enquiringly.

'Wheelbarrow.' Agnes smiled broadly.

'Ah yes,' said Hetty, 'good thinking!' There was a wheelbarrow a few doors down in the grooming room. It was used to ferry buckets, tack, hay and the like. Then she frowned. 'But he won't have any hands left to make sure twinkle toes here doesn't run off.'

'Oh, he will,' said Agnes, the smile not leaving her face.

Hetty frowned. 'He will?'

'He will, because I'll be pushing it for him.'

'But you can't do that. You've got a bad back,' said Hetty, aghast.

'That's a good point,' said Agnes, biting her lip. 'Thank you for volunteering your services, Henrietta. I'm sure Daniel will be much indebted to you.'

Hetty spluttered.

'Don't think I haven't forgotten about the Deep Heat incident, Henrietta. You can do this for the poor mite. He's going to have his hands full taking care of Petal, and I suspect it's going to be quite a day for them.'

Having been neatly manoeuvred into a corner Hetty asked dryly, 'Will we be even after this?'

'Probably not,' said Agnes, who'd already turned away to focus her attention on tidying up the tack room. She began to whistle a jaunty tune, discouraging further conversation.

Amid protests from the groom, who was trying to manoeuvre his way forward through the cases, Hetty stalked off to find herself a wheelbarrow.

Daniel got to his feet and began dusting himself down. It wouldn't do for Mr A to catch him all messed up. He kicked one of the smaller suitcases to try and ease his foul temper. It didn't help. Piling two suitcases one on top of the other, he decided to sit down for a minute and take a breather.

Jenny's smug smile of rescue had vaporised. She reassured herself that it was still very early and that her father would have her out of here by midday at the latest. There were other pressing concerns to contend with. Why were her suitcases on the floor? They were scraping them along the concrete for God's sake. If she could have opened her jaw in horror she would have. Did these people have no respect? Her cases were things of beauty and they contained fragile garments of sheer lace and silk. Watching in dismay, as her groom sat his backside down on not one but two of her cases, she began to whinny, snort and stamp her hooves. He was going to put a dint in one of her favourite pieces of luggage if he didn't shift his ass soon.

'Shut up,' muttered Daniel, not even bothering to look up at her. 'You've caused me enough trouble today already. Spying Hetty, whose massive bosom was racing down the hall and drawing the rest of her along in its wake, he shot up off the cases and reached for Jenny's bridle.

The shiny wheelbarrow seemed to have a life of its own. Bracing himself for impact against two large flying watermelons which didn't appear to be stopping anytime soon, Daniel breathed a sigh of relief as the contraption managed to halt several inches short of him. He just managed to survive being knocked out by about three centimetres. Removing the handles carefully from Hetty's hands he loaded it up quickly and began to push it out the door.

'Oh no you don't, young man.' Henrietta waggled her finger at him and shook her head. Daniel was finding it rather difficult to look her in the eye, so he decided the downcast demeanour was a good one.

'Please let me push, Ma'am. I'll be back for Petal as soon as I've finished.'

'That's very honourable of you, Daniel dear, but I'm afraid I've been signed up for this and I intend to do my bit. Besides,' she lowered her voice conspiratorially, 'Agnes has one or two secrets on me that I'd rather she didn't share. She can be funny about these things.'

'There's nothing wrong with my hearing, Henrietta, and I'd say the tally is now up to several hundred.' Agnes, who had been watching the proceedings out of the corner of her eye, smiled and waved to her friends. 'Hope things don't go too badly later,' she nodded to Daniel, 'and let me know if she tries to palm off that wheelbarrow on you. I'll have her guts for garters. Although the idea of finding a new use for my Deep Heat cream could be another more appealing option.' Agnes smiled sweetly.

'Fine. Fine. We were just leaving, weren't we?' Henrietta picked up both handles of the wheelbarrow and began to push. It took some considerable effort to get the thing moving.

'Catch you later, darling.' Agnes waved once more to the departing crew and shook her head.

'Please let me carry that for you, Mistress,' begged Daniel when they were out of earshot. He couldn't bear to watch the struggle Hetty was having with the over-laden barrow.

Hetty, who had now reached the end of the concrete corridor and was pushing the large wheelbarrow over uneven cobbles, had gone rather red in the face. She was not in the least bit daunted, however. She kept reasonably fit and at least her sizeable bulk gave her edge when she managed to get herself in motion. Stopping might be a problem, but she would tackle that when the problem arose.

'Do be quiet, Daniel. If I can hogtie several pony boys at once whilst administering a good paddling to each at the same time, then pushing a wheelbarrow is not beyond my capabilities.'

Daniel did not look at all happy, but you did not argue with a Madam. Having no other option but to remain silent, he took out his ill humour on Petal by yanking her leash somewhat harder than necessary.

Jenny, whose metal hooves were slipping this way and that on slippery cobblestones, had just had her first real moment of doubt. Desperately trying to retain her balance, with her arms bound awkwardly behind her, her brain was frantic with worry. What if rescue wasn't coming? What if she really was stuck here, at the mercy of these people and their terrible games? How long would she last? Her thoughts strayed to yesterday's tour of the dungeon and she wondered just how strong a woman she was, if faced with the kind of torments that room could provide. She wanted to believe she could fight this, take all of these cold people on and escape the confines of Albrecht Stables using nothing more than her wits and wiles. If Mark was right, and she was here at the behest of her Father, even if she managed to break free of this place she would have nowhere to go. While she was on the subject of escape, how the hell was she going to manage that with no arms, no fingers, no voice and no clothes? Going into immediate panic mode, the corset seemed to wrap itself even tighter around her stomach, making breathing impossible. She tried to suck enormous gulps of air in through her bit, but the constriction of the garment wouldn't let the precious substance into her lungs. Buckling to her knees she began choking in earnest. She wanted desperately to put her hands to her throat, as if that would somehow ease her lack of breath, but her arms stayed firmly put and her panic increased tenfold.

The wheelbarrow rolled on, oblivious to the commotion behind it. Daniel, eyes going wide, immediately bent her over double and said firmly in her ear, 'Take smaller breaths. You need to use the top of your lungs now, so breathe shallower breaths but a little bit faster than you would normally. That's it,' he encouraged her, when he witnessed her doing as he said. Patting her head he whispered, 'Good girl,' and began to stroke her back as if to calm her down. He let her stay that way until she began breathing normally again and then he helped her back to her feet. 'You all right now?'

Jenny could only nod mutely in response, but the incident had shaken her, not least due to the head-patting and his 'good girl' comment. She didn't get too long to drown in her sorrows, though, because Daniel, aware they were now lagging behind Hetty by some considerable margin, had already started pulling afresh on her leash.

'Take long strides and short breaths, Petal. You'll soon get used to it.'

Jenny was not at all convinced, but at least she had no more near-fainting incidents to contend with. The short journey to the paddock was accomplished in silence, some of which was enforced and some of which was not. Jenny barely noticed the lack of her voice, too intent was she on staring in fascination upon Hetty's backside. Her sizeable ass had more bounce than that of a trampoline and it was quite a sight to behold.

All too soon cobblestones turned to wet grass and a herd of pony girls and trainers could be spotted not far off in the distance. Jenny was frantically listening for the sound of jet engines, a siren, an alarm or anything that might indicate imminent rescue. All she heard were a few excitable nickers and whinnies. She had to reassure herself, for the umpteenth time, that they were in Lincolnshire and not on the planet Mars. Rescue would come. She would just need to be patient.

Arriving at the paddock Jenny's stiff, enforced posture made it difficult to look around. She had a view straight in front of her of several leather-bound pony girls, the strapping which varied in colour and hue from white through to black, with many rainbow shades in between. What did it all mean? Not that she would be here long enough to worry about it, but she was curious. What did these ponies do all day?

Hitching her to the end of a sturdy wooden post, where a row of human ponies were already tied, Daniel patted her backside before moving away to help Hetty. The sharp words Jenny would have loved to lavish upon him were firmly staunched by her effective tack, and the slap she would have administered instead was also impossible to deliver. With few options left, she gave an almighty stomp with one of her heavy metal hooves and was rewarded with a very unsatisfying squelch. No one had taken the least bit of notice to her antics as most of the ponies were doing exactly the same thing, although it appeared they were simply keeping warm in the cool morning air. Ignoring the long line of drool forming from the corner of her lips, Jenny decided to do something useful and take a look around.

The paddock was covered with brightly coloured carts and looked like it could be the start of a Roman chariot race. Each cart had a couple of items of luggage placed in a plastic well at the rear, with the exception of the cart Daniel was loading up. He was trying to squeeze all eight of her suitcases into a space not suitable for half the amount. That was not the only dissimilarity. All of the other carts contained lightweight cloth suitcases or bags, whereas hers were all made of heavy leather and brass. After Daniel had finished loading it up, the two pneumatic rubber tyres of the cart embedded themselves into the soft ground in protest at their load.

'Right ho, must dash,' said Hetty, who looked like a giant ice statue that had been left out in the midday sun. Trails of sweat ran down her forehead, her hair was stuck to her face and her white blouse was beginning to take on a dangerously transparent appearance. Having regained her breath she began furiously rummaging around in her cleavage. Finally locating what she sought, she pulled out an almighty white hankie and began dabbing gently at her forehead. Then, giving two thumbs up to Daniel and a discreet wink at Jenny, she picked up her wheelbarrow and marched smartly away.

'Attention ponies, eyes front,' said a stern voice which commanded attention. All the ponies did as they were told, even Jenny, who was far too full of curiosity to disobey. The gentleman who had addressed them wore thick blue jeans, a crisp black shirt and a pair of riding boots. His thin, angular face wore a frown and judging by the wrinkles on his forehead, it was a permanent feature. He had greying hair which was shaved closed to his head to conceal a receding hairline, and not an inch of spare flesh anywhere on his body. He looked mean. 'I'd like to introduce everyone to our newest pony, Pretty Pink Petals,' he said, and indicated her with a sweep of his hand. Jenny winced as the name was uttered out loud. 'As that's a bit of a mouthful, I'm going to call her "P" for short.'