Free Learning the Ropes by C. P. Mandara

Book Two - Learning the Ropes
    The Art of Crawling
     
    Mr Nasty was searching for something. He was at the back of the tack room, rifling through the contents of an ottoman. Nestled amongst the thigh-high pony boots he looked oddly out of place, not that it seemed to bother him. As he bent himself over the wooden box Jenny caught her breath. The clinging white riding breeches and a near perfect backside were making her heart beat a marathon-like pulse in exertion. He was going to give her a coronary if he didn't straighten up soon. On the plus side, he had taken her mind off more pressing concerns.
    Mark was almost rubbing his hands in glee, thinking about the little sightseeing trip he had planned. When he finally shut the lid of the ottoman there were several metres of white hemp rope in his hand. It would come in useful as her tour would be completed on all fours. It would give her an excellent insight as to what her training would entail. It would give him an excellent view of her wiggling ass as she crawled from room to room.
    He was particularly looking forward to visiting the dungeon, as that particular room would open her eyes both to what would be expected of her and what would happen if she decided to play naughty. He had a fondness for disobedient ponies. Alas, under his hand they never stayed mischievous for long. He had a suspicious feeling that this trainee might prove the exception. The thought of a healthy challenge made his mouth water with excitement.
    Hetty and Aggie had offered to stay and help him bind the trainee, but he had dismissed them with his thanks. He knew they had plenty of work ahead of them with the preparation of her tack and he didn't wish to delay them further. The sooner they had her new apparel, the better. In a few hours' time he would find her a crude harness which would help with her adjustment from human to horse. It wouldn't be a patch on what she'd be made to wear eventually, but it would certainly get her used to the idea of being owned and controlled by another. At the very least it would reinforce her new station in life: a slave sold into bondage. She needed to get her head around that important fact and he suspected it would take some time.
    He completed most of the rope work whilst Jenny was still strapped to the horse, looping it around her elbows and knees several times and tying various knots, ignoring her numerous protests. He had no wish to use his crop just yet, preferring to keep the strength of his stroke as a nice surprise for later.
    Mark didn't think that the cosseted little rich girl would have had much experience in dealing with pain and he was looking forward to being the one who would introduce her to it. Trainees usually went one way or the other at their first real taste. They either burst into tears at the mere slap of a hand or they gritted their teeth and gave you the 'look', which basically meant that if they ever managed to retain use of their limbs they were going to use them to kill you. Personally he liked a bit of spirit. It showed character.
    Satisfied he had coiled enough rope around the naked girl in front of him, Mark searched for one last item. She was going to need a collar. It needed to be white and it needed to be a nice thick one. Called a 'posture collar' it would ensure that she kept her shoulders straight and her head forward and erect at all times. As well as teaching good posture, it would also get her accustomed to the way ponies would be expected to execute proper carriage at all times, even whilst trotting or cantering. It would be uncomfortable initially, but eventually it would become almost as natural as sleeping, not that she'd be doing much of that for a while.
    Finding a suitable four inch collar, he released the leather restraint around her neck. Gently bunching her long black hair into a ponytail, to ensure it didn't get trapped inside, he quickly fastened the two silver buckles at the rear that would hold it in place. Mark