Named and Shamed (16 page)

Having made it down the stone steps in one piece, she rapped the brass knocker within the cast iron door and waited. There was no response. It was a thick door, so she tried again. Nothing. Pressing the side of her face up close and feeling like a guilty schoolgirl who might get caught eavesdropping, she strained her ears for the smallest sound. When a sudden crack lit up the air she nearly broke both of her spike heels simultaneously. It was followed by another and then another... and they didn't appear to be stopping. Realising that her feeble knocking wasn't going to gain her entrance any time soon, she cautiously opened the door and waved a single hand in the air to get his notice. There was no way she was going to risk any more body parts when there was a bullwhip on the loose.

The whip continued to crack as if nothing had happened and no one was any the wiser as to her frantically waving hand. Isabelle withdrew it and peered cautiously through the slit in the door, one hand on the knocker ready to form an immediate retreat if need be.

Her eyes blinked madly at first, adjusting to the harsh lighting, but then a shocked gasp left her lips. There could be little doubt about it; she was looking at a madman. His shirt was on the floor in tatters; his muscled back was dripping with sweat, as were the tips of his shaggy blonde hair that framed the back of his neck, and there he was bringing the whip down with a ferocity that was unholy.

Isabelle felt her head spin. She breathed deeply, and leaning on the door to steady herself she fell forward and winced as the thing creaked loudly on its hinges.

'Who's there?' There was nothing wrong with Kyle's reflexes and his body spun around while his loud voice echoed off the stone walls.

Isabelle struggled her way up to a standing position and gingerly poked her head around the door. 'Just me,' she squeaked in a very unladylike voice. She smiled weakly and waved some documents in the air. It could almost have been the white flag of truce. 'I just need to check if you're an interested party in any of our new ponies? I have you down for Petal. Is that correct?'

Kyle nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. He was soaking up the delightful Isabelle's sleek silhouette upon the dungeon floor and letting her voice soothe his frayed temper. The woman was an angel.

'Good, good. You do know that there is a secondary auction regarding Petal, don't you?'

'Come in, Ma'am, please. It's a little difficult to hold a conversation behind a mostly closed door.' Kyle could hear her perfectly well, but he wanted to feast his eyes upon her body; the same body that would be his in just a few days' time.

Isabelle sucked in another breath, pushed the door forward and tried to ignore the horrible screeching sound that began to murder her eardrums. Putting on her brightest smile, which took considerable effort, she continued where she had left off.

'There's to be a secondary auction for Petal. She happens to be an anal virgin.' She nearly let a sigh of relief out, after having managed to complete that sentence without a single 'ah', 'um' or 'er'.

'I see.' Kyle had no interest in that particular auction. He didn't have enough money in the bidding wars to be any competition for the high rollers that would almost certainly flock to the event, and as she would soon be his trainee, paying for something he would shortly be able to have on tap seemed slightly ludicrous. 'No, I have no interest in that particular auction, but thanks for the invite.' He gave her a soft smile.

It was wasted upon Isabelle. Her eyes, getting wider by the second, had just taken in his captive, snagged against the X-frame and horse. They began bulging when they devoured the state of her catsuit, which was now shredded beyond repair.

Isabelle stood up straight and quickly turned her eyes away from the girl. She found herself shaking as she asked her next question. 'Where would you like to meet for our little soiree, Kyle?' Her voice had taken on a stiff and strangulated quality.

'Why don't we meet down here in the dungeon on Friday night? I'll be here until about half-past six because Mistress Katrina is on leave this week, but then we can go anywhere that takes your fancy.' He stopped speaking abruptly when he noticed that Isabelle appeared to be clinging onto the wall for support and that even so, she appeared to be sinking rapidly towards the floor. 'Are you OK, Isabelle?' He began to move forward to assist her up, but that didn't appear to help matters as she shrank even further away from him.

'I'm fine, I'm fine,' said Isabelle in her firmest, most businesslike tone. With a great degree of effort she managed to pull herself up the stone wall, although she refused to let go of it. She had not heard any of Kyle's conversation past the word
dungeon
. What kind of man wanted a first date in a dungeon? Isabelle couldn't decide if she was shocked or outraged. It was probably a mixture of both. Oh dear Lord, the dungeon? There must be some mistake.

'I suppose you want me to wear a catsuit, too?' This was added somewhat sarcastically.

It was time for Kyle's eyes to widen in surprise. 'Oh, wow, Isabelle. Yes please. That's a very sweet and generous offer. You'd look amazingly awesome in latex.' He'd just begun to think that all his Christmases had come at once. He had no idea what had come over Isabelle, but he wasn't going to question this turn of events.

'Of course you would.' Isabelle nodded curtly and provided Kyle with a weak smile that did not touch her eyes. 'Now if you might excuse me, I have a busy day ahead with the auction preparations.' She turned on her heels, which were incredibly both still intact, and marched out of the dungeon with the speed of a drill sergeant. The door slammed loudly in her wake. As soon as she was clear of the dungeon steps she removed both shoes and ran like she had never run before.

Kyle didn't even notice the excruciating sound of un-oiled hinges being miserably abused. His week was getting better and better. Putting the bullwhip back on its wall support he began unbuttoning his jeans. Isabelle had created a raging fire inside his body and his little sex-slave was going to have a hard job on her hands putting it out. Releasing her from the horse and the cross he watched as she dropped to the floor, on all fours. She wasn't going to be given much time to get her breath back. Drawing the horizontal zip slowly across her mouth, he had only two words for his pony.

'Open wide.'

Nettle Soup

Mark felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. Racing away from the noise and dust of the helicopter blades, he could not escape their chilling breeze and it cut straight through him. Flipping up the lapels of his suit, he wondered if this was a sign that the English summer was already over, not that it had really begun. The weather didn't really concern him over much. His mind was already focused on a stubborn little brunette that would be wandering the paddocks of Albrecht, causing mischief and mayhem in her shiny black hoof-boots. He began to imagine what she would look like trussed up in her leather tack, with her hands bound tightly behind her and all of her holes neatly filled. What he wouldn't give to be filling one of them himself right now...

Escaping the reach of the slowing rotor blades, Mark made a beeline for Isabelle's office. He was smiling. That in itself was a damn miracle. Having meant to drive himself to Albrecht, he realised that if he wanted to release a little sexual tension before his visit, he had minutes rather than hours with which to play. As he was a firm believer that sex in all of its glorious forms should not be rushed, he'd decided to take the helicopter and that had given him a couple of extra hours in which to play... with two lovely blondes... in tandem. Their enthusiasm had been overwhelming and somewhat... touching. He suspected his office was in a state of uproar since he'd chained Marianna over his table last night. His usual crew were sharpening their claws and looking to stake their claim. If he'd known what an invigorating effect it would have upon them, he would have had brunette sex years ago.

Reaching Isabelle's door, he knocked twice and cleared his thoughts.

'Come in.'

He did not need to be asked twice. When Isabelle spotted him she looked surprised, but quickly schooled her reaction to one of polite formality. That in itself was unusual. Isabelle was very good at maintaining her poker face, no matter what the situation might entail. He also spotted that her fingernails were drumming the William Tell Overture on the underside of her desk, she had chewed all of her signature pink lipstick from her lips and she was sporting a large, dusty smudge on her form-fitting black skirt. Something was eating at her. This was a first and he was intrigued.

'What can I do for you, Mr Matthews?' There was a slight waver to her voice. Barely undetectable, but Mark had learned to read these things from an early age.

'I want to register my interest as trainer for Miss Redcliff, or Petal, as I believe she has now been named. I am also interested in being entered into the secondary auction. As this is a first for me, can you tell me exactly what that entails?' Without being asked, Mark sat down in the padded office chair positioned opposite her. He rubbed his clean shaven jaw thoughtfully and awaited her response. He did not miss the slight stammer as she began her first sentence.

'The secondary auction is for Petal's, ah, um, virginity, if you know what I mean.' Isabelle wanted to hide her face under her desk. Where had all her bravado gone? Soaring out of the window after having witnessed Kyle's antics a few minutes ago, that's where, she thought sourly.

Mark merely smiled his enigmatic smile and she was forced to continue, without any help on his part.

'The winner will be awarded one full forty-eight hour period with Petal in which to divest the pony of her anal virginity. She will be delivered to the winner naked and will be wearing an electro-shock collar that will ensure she does not use her voice at any point during the date. She will also be fitted with shock plugs, for which the winner will be given a controller, to ensure complete control and her full cooperation. Of course, these may be removed as the date progresses. Her hands will be cuffed in front of her and she will be wearing ankle cuffs, which will interconnect, to confine her movements to crawling at best. No keys will be provided for these and they must remain in place for the duration of the date. Are these terms acceptable to you?'

Mark hadn't batted an eyelid during Isabelle's description. He had already suspected that the terms would be limiting. It didn't discourage his interest in the slightest. For what he had in mind, there was always a way around these little challenges.

'Are you expecting any bidders of high-net-worth to be attending the event?' Mark was a firm believer that to be forewarned was to be forearmed. He was also fully aware that Isabelle was not permitted to give out these details, but they had been tentative friends for some time now, and it was a good way to find out where her loyalties lay.

'Um.' Oh goodness, where had all her eloquence with the English language gone? She sounded like a teenager. Get a grip, Isabelle, she told herself firmly. 'I am not really at liberty to tell you that, Sir.' She could feel her hands become hot and sweaty, and she buried them underneath her desk to stop herself fidgeting.

'But you're going to tell me anyway, aren't you Isabelle?' Mark was pushing his luck, but he detected there was ground to be won in this game.

Isabelle gripped her hands tightly under the desk, fiercely debating her next course of action, before grabbing a pencil and a piece of paper. She began scribbling furiously. Raising her voice in a slightly petulant tone she said, 'I'm afraid not, Mr Matthews. You'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. I wouldn't want to spoil all of your excitement, you understand.' Having finished her short list, she angled it around so he could see the five names upon it.

Mark cursed himself for being stupid. The walls had ears as well as eyes around here. He should have thought of that and acted accordingly. Thankfully, Isabelle was smart enough to have worked her way around it. Her back was to the camera and the piece of paper would not have been spotted. He nodded his acceptance of her statement for the video camera above him and made sure not to look in its direction. 'Of course. You must forgive me for trying my luck.' He smiled.

Isabelle inclined her head. 'Is there anything else I can do for you?' Her hand was shaking.

'I was just going to take a look at the trainees before I head back to the hotel. Where might I find them at the moment?' He asked the question with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

Isabelle pursed her lips and grimaced in an apologetic fashion. 'I'm afraid Sir Lyle has them at the moment. He's decided that they are to pick stinging nettles with their teeth in order to supply tonight's supper.' When Mark's eyes widened she continued. 'That is my thought entirely, but as he is the highest ranking official here today, there is no one to tell him otherwise. I've been trying to get hold of someone who can override him, but typically everyone seems to be unavailable at the moment. If the novices go to the auction covered in nettle rashes, I suspect there will be trouble.'

He didn't doubt it. There was also the possibility that one of the girls would be allergic to nettle stings and that would put Sir Lyle in a rather large kettle of hot water. Whilst there was no love lost between himself and Lyle, he did not want one particular pony suffering in that fashion; in many other fashions, perhaps, but not that one.

'Leave it to me. I'll sort him out.' Mark winked in a friendly manner.

Isabelle felt one weight lifted from her shoulders, even though there were plenty more vying for her attention. Still, it couldn't be helped. 'I don't suppose you'd like a cup of coffee before you head out to the paddock?'

Mark sniffed the air, silently but experimentally. There were some days in which you could take risks with your coffee and other days in which you were better advised to play it safe. 'I'd love a cup of Earl Grey,' he countered.

Jenny was uncomfortable. The leather straps which encircled her body were digging in and beginning to itch, scratch and rub. The most painful place was where the webbing cut through her labia. Not only did the friction burn rather unpleasantly down there, but movement caused her to become aroused very quickly, not least with two wriggling plugs inside her. Worst of all, was the utter humiliation of feeling her tail swish between her legs and buttocks. It was a constant reminder of her new status and try as she might, she could not ignore it. Her body cried out for relief, ever more desperate with each step forward that she took, but she knew none would be forthcoming. She had missed her chance, and all for what? She was to be punished for this madman's amusement, along with everybody else. Where was her rescue? Having heard the helicopter land several minutes ago, she was anxiously waiting to be set free. Guessing it would probably take her rescuers a few minutes to locate her, she could only hope that they hurried along and got to her before any more damage was done.