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Making a Pony-girl Part One (Tor Melati)


Making a Pony-girl Part One by Tor Melati

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On arrival at the remote Adjustment Centre, Ingrid has high hopes for her future. She and the other eleven girls have each paid 8000 Euros to EWPC for a visa, training and the promise of a job in the UK. However, it quickly becomes obvious that the isolated estate has a much darker purpose.

Within hours, the 12 teenagers find that the Krols clan run a draconian regime, where discipline is meted out for the most trivial infractions. Having been transported to a location deep in the wastes of Western Latvia, escaping from their tormentors is hardly an option.

The girl’s normal clothes are taken away and replaced with a ‘uniform’, which is little more than a pair of panties and flimsy t-shirt. To make matters worse, during an intrusive medical, they are fitted with semi-permanent collars and irremovable, strange running shoes.

Ingrid is soon singled out for harsher treatment and made an example of in front of the other girls. Edvin Krols takes an interest in the youngster, but knows she has been earmarked as one of four ‘Special girls’ who will be the centrepiece of a show, ‘The Challenge’, on the dark web.

Because of its explicit content, this novel is only suitable for mature adults over the age of 18.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Amelia Stark's Erotica     Published: 9 / 2017

No. words: 36857

Style: Sex Slavery / Training, Male Dom - M/F

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

Click Here For All Books In This Series


Excerpt

1.1. The Adjustment Centre.

Ingrid stepped down from the coach onto the gravel parking lot and studied the large stone building, standing just 100 metres away. It looked run down and abandoned, but people were entering and leaving the main entrance, proving that looks can be deceiving. It had obviously been a magnificent residence back in the previous century, but it was now suffering from neglect and the ravages of time.
She was jostled by the other girls leaving the coach, but stood her ground. She waited patiently for the driver to find her single item of luggage in the under-seating storage space. Once it was handed over, she clutched it to her chest and stepped back to let another girl in.
“Get in a line, girls!” one of the guides shouted over their heads.
Two girls were in the way, waiting for their bag, but she shuffled past them, toward the impatient minder/guide. She found herself second in line behind the girl she had befriended on the coach.
“Anna, are you all right?” she asked in the girl’s native tongue - Lithuanian.
The bright-eyed youngster nodded. “Yes. I’m pleased that we’re finally getting somewhere after all the interviews. Oh, and speak English, so I get used to the language.”
The organizers of the placement course had stipulated that only English would be tolerated at the adjustment centre. The group were going to spend a few weeks being coached in English culture, to give them the best chance of impressing the employers when they eventually get to meet them.
Ingrid, like all the others, had paid 8000 Euros for a one-way ticket to the United Kingdom. Ever since the UK had put the brakes on immigration, it was only possible to get into the country if one had a job to go to.
The ‘East to West Placement Company’ (EWPC), guarantee, included training at the placement centre, a job, transport to the UK and a five-year work visa. She had used her life savings to get on the program and was only just beginning to have doubts about the organizers who were running the show.
The program, for 18 and 19 year olds, was highly recommended by one of her school teachers and because she trusted his judgement, she took the plunge and signed up. She was shown examples of girls getting fashion contracts and PA positions in large companies in the City of London. Since the UK closed its borders, there was a huge waiting list for visas, but EWPC guaranteed a job within two months.
Another factor was that the company promised to refund their money if they couldn’t find them a job; and wouldn’t deduct any expenses. It was almost too good to be true, but she had handed over the money to what she thought was a large international company.
The first warning sign that something wasn’t right, was when only 12 girls turned up at the meeting point; and that the staff were all men. The three guys, including the driver, searched each girl, before they were allowed on the bus. They said they were looking for mobile phones and electronic devices, which the girls knew were banned at the adjustment centre.
It was an embarrassing experience to be patted down by a man as though she was a common criminal! The same men accompanied them on the coach and were now leading them toward the steps, at the front of the old stately home.
Ingrid gestured toward the building. “What do you make of this?”
Anna shrugged. “I was expecting the accommodation to be more modern. Hope the inside is better…”
It was around 10 o’clock and because the sun hadn’t risen very far, the temperature was still in the low single figures. They were collected at 5am, in darkness, and the tedious journey west had taken at least five long hours. She had slept through part of it, so felt bright and alert as soon as she stepped off the coach.
The large, vaulted entrance hall was gloomy and depressing. She couldn’t see any light fittings, so guessed the building wasn’t equipped with mains electricity. A rope barred the way to a grand staircase that split half way up, on its way to a landing that encircled the well of the hallway. Ingrid’s imagination ran wild, conjuring up an image of what it might have looked like a hundred years earlier.
“Keep up girls,” one of the men shouted, loud enough for his voice to echo around the hall.
They led them down a vast corridor and stopped by a door. “That’s the toilets if you need them.”
“Yes please,” they all chorused.
All 12 girls filed into an enormous rest room that desperately needed modernising. Three of the six stalls didn’t flush and only a couple of the taps on the hand basins worked, so they hurried each other along. When they emerged, the men led them into an enormous room that thankfully was bright and in better condition than what she had seen thus far. Rosewood panelling covered the back and end walls, while a row of tall windows dominated the long fourth wall.
However. the room looked tired and was missing all of its former character and glory. Oblong shadows on the walls showed where huge paintings once graced the room, in between which, brass gas light fittings jutting out. The parquet flooring was worn and untreated; and missing a rug that would have at least made the room more welcoming. A table had been set up at one end with what looked like breakfast items spread out on it.
“Girls!” They all turned to face the opposite end, where two rows of chairs were lined up.
The seats were facing a small stage constructed from packing crates and planks of wood. A tall, austere woman, standing beside a lectern, pointed to the window wall. “Put your bags over there, then come and find your seat.”
Ingrid was relieved to see a woman, even though she looked like a middle-aged headmistress in her long black, tight-fitting dress. Her shoulder length black hair was cut with a severe fringe and highlighted her pinched features, thin lips and narrow eyes.
Everything Ingrid had seen with regard to EWPC, hardly filled her with confidence. The coach was dilapidated and uncomfortable, the placement centre was in the middle of nowhere and to make matters worse, the building was hardly habitable.
She was already missing her phone and tablet and the social life the gadgets provided on a daily basis. The company was promoting a fresh start, but she was beginning to think that the rules were far too draconian.
She and the others dropped their bags and then wandered over to the chairs, only to find that their names had been written on small pieces of paper and sellotaped to the back of each chair.
It was another amateurish practice that bothered the teenager. She was distracted from reading the names, when the trio of minders who had been with them, since collecting them from Riga, wandered down one side and met the woman for a chat.
She continued searching for her name. ‘Ingrid Briedis’ was stuck on a chair at the end of the front row, on the right: and like all the others, was occupied by a small cellophane packet containing clothes.
“Girls!” The woman called out again. “Take your uniform pack to where you dropped your bags. Remove all your clothes and change into the items in your pack.”
Ingrid picked up her pack and turned it over in her hands. “Miss?” she called out.
The woman looked up and gave Ingrid a cold stare. “What is it, girl?”
The rest of the group paused to listen to her question. “Is this all there is?”
The woman took two paces toward her. “Adjustment is going to take many tiny steps. The first one is to learn to do as you’re told. Now get changed!”
Ingrid and the other girls were stunned by the woman’s forceful attitude, but the Latvian youngster wasn’t overawed. “Are there any changing rooms?”
“No, there are no changing rooms. You will be shown your living accommodation later. For now, you will change here.”
Anna, whose chair was two along from her, put her hand up.
“What is it girl?” First one man and then the other two stepped forward to join the woman.
The men, who were smartly dressed in dark grey suits and blue shirts, looked as though they belonged to a bona fida company, but their manner was overly aggressive and surly. Ingrid immediately felt threatened, and glancing around, saw that the others did too.
“Ingrid… she is right, Miss. We… we need somewhere to change. What about the restroom?”
“No. you will change here. You have to get used to changing in public.”
“I’ve never changed in public,” Ingrid protested.
The woman put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. Her eyes flicked between Anna and Ingrid. “I get it. We have a pair of trouble-makers in our midst…” she glanced around the others. “Is there anyone else wanting to get off on the wrong foot? Any more prudes among the rest of you?”
There was silence.
“Go on, get changed!” She made a shooing motion with her hands and the rest of the group began to move.
Anna looked in Ingrid’s direction and gave her the nod. When she stayed put, the Lithuanian teenager joined the others.
“Miss, I don’t want to cause trouble,” she said softly, “.... but this isn’t right.”
The woman glared at her and the men stepped forward, creating a semicircle. “Do you want to withdraw from the scheme?”
“No, of course not, but I thought we were here to learn about British culture in a relaxed atmosphere.”
She scoffed. “If you have joined our course thinking you are going to sit around waiting for your visa to turn up, then think again!”
Ingrid was taken aback by the woman’s oblique argument. “No, I would just like some privacy…”
“UK employers don’t want lazy trouble makers. They want girls who are active and fit. My job is to find you and the others, employment that suits you. Are you lazy, or active? Are you compliant, or a trouble maker?”
“I’m very active and I don’t want to make trouble…”
“Then go and change with the others, or…” She lowered her voice. “… you can go with Juris and Kriss and they’ll help you with your clothes.”
She was shocked by the suggestion and the aggressive expression on the men’s faces. Ingrid’s resolve folded, but when she turned, she was horrified to see that the other 11 girls were in a state of undress. They had all decided to remove their jeans and panties first and because their jackets were short, there was a lot of naked ass flesh on display.
Something was seriously wrong and the woman had threatened her with force, which was inexcusable. Looking at the group of semi-naked teenagers, Ingrid began to wonder if she had made the stupidest mistake of her life.


Author Information

I'm a happy go lucky sort of person and I love reading and watching episodic stories that keep me sitting on the edge of my seat. My favourite stories are Lost', 'Breaking Bad and 'Dexter' on TV, so I am somewhat influenced by the idea of keeping my reader wondering what will be happening next.


 

Publisher Information

Amelia Stark's Erotica is a Publisher of BDSM and Erotica stories. All the work is written by Amelia stark, although her work is split between 4 pseudonyms. Her own, Tor Melati, Laura Sinn and Tabatha Wild.


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