Chapter 3
Yeah, gods, yet more endless frigging wall! Follow the yellow brick wall, sheesh. I seemed to have been driving alongside that high wall for ages. Old ivy, moss and lichen-covered crumbling Victorian yellow brickwork now capped with steel brackets and ugly razor wire facing outward. Mandy had suggested this final stretch of my route as a short-cut to save going through the village, which had a ton of road repairs going on. Do a Dorothy and follow the yellow brick road, she’d laughed. I seemed to have been driving down this track for hours and still no sign of an entrance to Oz! Just how fucking big was this ’little’ place in the country’ of hers?
After entering her address in my cell phones sat-nav, I’d also looked on google maps. Yes, that was a fair old slice of the countryside she and her husband owned. Bought or inherited, I wondered. Interestingly it was marked on the map as an ‘experimental farm and agricultural research establishment’. What sort of experimenting and research went on there then, I'd wondered.
Another hundred yards and I emerged onto a more substantial country road where a right turn and another half-mile of old wall brought me to the imposing entrance gate and attendant gatekeepers lodge. The suggested route probably had been marginally quicker, it had cut a substantial loop of the main road off my journey, but at my customary conservative snail pace down that dubious narrow farm track, any time saved had been minimal. Still, following that seemingly endless wall had given me some idea as to the size of the place. Google maps were good, but I was the sort of simple person who needed to see something to get a proper idea of scale.
I’d got it all right, and I was already feeling a little awed and overwhelmed as I drove up to the big wrought iron gates. Hell, I’d bet there were a few small countries, not much bigger! I was just wondering what I should do, was there some sort of a bell or something to ring? I could see a very obvious camera perched atop a stone pillar. How did one come calling at a private country estate, especially one that I knew harboured secrets as this one did! Should I open the car window, smile and wave at that camera? I glanced at my watch; I was a little early, which was me all over; I hated being late for anything, always had. I lowered the window.
I looked at the camera, looked around, then dubiously back at the camera. Maybe I should get out and see if the gates pushed open but thinking back to Mandy shouting about security as they’d driven off. That seemed a little odd! I was pretty sure that pushing would have no effect whatsoever. Should I give her a call?
“Heya”, the old nail-studded door to the lodge flew open, and a figure bounded out. A pretty girl with curly red hair and a mass of freckles ran over to my car. “So sorry”, she apologised frantically, trying to tuck her chequered shirt into the waistband of her tight jeans. “I was on the bloody loo” she giggled and covered her mouth with one hand. “Last nights curry from the village takeaway. Not just the ponies ‘trotting’ today’ she laughed!”
I smiled. I liked her instantly; she was about nineteen or twenty, pert and very pretty. “My fault,” I said, giving her my name. “I believe that I am expected, but my eta is a little out, on the plus side.”
“No problem, I was waiting for you. My names Madeleine, Maddy for short.” She gestured back to the old gatekeeper's lodge with a thumb over her shoulder. “My turn for gate duty today. Boring,” she added, drawing the word out and grimacing. “They like to have someone down here all the time, though. Give me a sec, and I’ll pop back in and press the release button. There’s an infrared thingy that lets us know when someone approaches, but as I said, I was otherwise occupied.”
She turned toward the building, took a step, then stopped and turned back, looking slightly anxious. “I wasn’t really late, was I? I mean, it wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t out here instantly, was it?”
“No, I said, a little surprised. I think you seem to have had a good excuse.” I smiled, nodding to her still dishevelled shirt not fully tucked back into her waistband.
Maddy nodded and gave me a rueful little smile. “All the same, you’d be doing me a massive favour by not mentioning it to...” she jerked her head, and her voice dropped to a whisper”, to Madam up at the house. She gets so het up about visitors and security. I don’t think this would be a big deal, but you never know. Sandra got six whole weeks in the stalls last month because she somehow fucked up big time and let the wrong guy in! Luckily there is a no vehicle rule without an escort, so he got stopped by the inside barrier. Mega balls up anyway, and so now, sheesh, I can’t even take a crap without worrying!”
I smiled. “I won’t drop you in it”, I promised. “What did you mean by stalls, extra cleaning duty?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Hardly”, she giggled “, Madam has...well she’ll tell you. My orders were to send you straight up, so I’d best do that instead of gossiping through the gate. Just drive on up the road a short way you’ll come to a wire fence. You can park your car on the gravel area near the gate, and someone will collect you and escort you to the house. I’ll see you later, I expect.”
“Thanks” I closed the window, waited for the gates to swing open, waved and then proceeded up the narrow drive, rounded a bend by some trees and saw the heavy wire fence topped with yet more coils of razor wire immediately ahead. As instructed, I pulled into the gravel area and switched the engine off, looking about curiously as mine was the only vehicle there. Apart from the small parking area, the wire fence, green painted iron gates, and another camera, there was nothing else to see. I got out and looked about.
The narrow road disappeared from view around another bend with woods on either side. The trees stretched in both directions with a grassy area between them and the old boundary wall that I had driven along stretching away into the distance. My view was blocked by trees and scrub in the other direction. Big was the thought that immediately popped into my head. It had looked impressive on Google maps but now on the ground, yup, big with a capital B!
My place being an old farm with some outbuildings and a bit of land, was way larger than the average bog-standard three-bed family semi-detached, complete with double parking space plus minuscule garden, but this, wow! This was on a scale or perhaps more aptly, way off the same scale altogether!
My eye caught movement on the bend over by the far trees; it seemed that I wasn’t to be kept waiting for very long. I heard the rhythmic sound of metal striking tarmac accompanied by the rattle and clatter of wheels in the distance. As I listened, the sound grew louder, a sharp crack and a woman’s shout, then a second and third crack.
Show off, I thought to myself, nor was I at all surprised as the vehicle rapidly came into view. I'd been almost sure Mandy would greet me in some such fashion. She’d told me that her modelling days were long behind her, but I’d sensed a touch of the exhibitionist, plus her interest in dressage hinted at a strong sense of showmanship. That coupled with her evident eagerness for me to visit her estate, ostensibly to learn more about handling and housing human equines. True, but I also knew that she would love showing off to someone totally new to her exclusive little world!
The carriage or trap came on at a rapid pace preceded by that rhythmic sound of steel horseshoes on solid ground, and I espied the tall slim figure of Mandy seated on the driving seat dressed all in innocent virgin white. As if! The headband holding her blonde hair was white, likewise her knotted shirt top, belt, tight white leggings and glossy heeled knee boots. She was wielding a long single-tailed carriage whip and seated in the high driving seat. The trap wheeled smartly to one side and came to an abrupt stop a dozen feet away as Mandy hauled sharply on the reins shouting ‘whoa’, to the four ponies harnessed in front then waved to me, “Just a sec, honey.”
As I said, I wasn’t surprised to see her mode of transport, but I was a little surprised by the ponies hauling it given her expressed interest in ponygirls. A quartet of males drew the small, four-wheeled trap, human ponies, harnessed in two pairs, one in front of another. They made both an impressive and somewhat exotically strange sight to see four such creatures together in the flesh. Mandy raised her whip, and three times her arm flexed, and the whip lashed out its tip, landing with precision on the rump of the front right-hand ponyboy. He jumped and squealed mutely into his bit as three fresh bleeding welts on his rump joined several fresh ones among the myriad of older ones marking his hide.
Mandy jumped down and grabbed me, giving me a quick welcome kiss, her eyes sparkling before turning and pointing to her team. “Not bad, eh?”
I nodded, eyeing my first ever for real ponyboys. They were all young so far as I could see from their physiques, but something was a little odd about them, which puzzled me for a moment. Mandy pulled me forward for a closer look. She still had the whip in her hand and used it to tap the pony, who’d just felt its bite across its bleeding rump, making the pony flinch.
“Stand still, Poppy”, she commanded, sharply reaching up and grabbing its bridle and twisting it around to look at him. “This one ”, she hissed “, has yet to learn its place in our world, and if it doesn’t, I'll geld it, and it can join my ponygirls” she shook the bridle hard. “It won’t find life under my whip anything like as soft as under my husbands! It had better behave, or the half dozen it’s going to get later from Miss Judith’s cane will become a dozen or more! So what do you think?” she asked, letting go of the bridle and joining me as I surveyed them.
I realised that she’d just taught me my first lesson. I remembered her remark about rarely talking to them as she was examining my Beauty. She might have addressed me, but the bulk of what she’d just said had been as much for that ponyboys ears as mine.
I shook my head in admiration. “Amazing, absolutely amazing; I can’t believe I am actually standing here looking at them. Why Poppy, though?” I asked as the question occurred to me.
Mandy shrugged and laughed. “Why not, no, but seriously, calling them after flowers is Bob's way of taking his ponyboys down another notch or so on the scale. That and his weird sense of humour!” she shrugged her shoulders again, “Mind you, being a pony is about as low as you can get anyway, so the name is ultimately immaterial”. She chuckled and added. “Lookee here though, see how flushed Poppy here has suddenly gone, so maybe it does have a demeaning effect.”
“Poppy is new then?”
“Uh uh, Bob got a call about six weeks ago. One of our, well, someone we know with a knack for being in the right place at the right time had got her hands on a fresh piece of merchandise, just his type if he was interested.”
“And he was, of course!”
“Never turn a gift horse down”, Mandy chuckled. “Not that he was a gift. Pricy, but Bob’s happy. Nineteen, cute, fit, leggy but not muscle-bound with an ass just made to feel the cane across the outside and accommodate a big cock deep inside, how could he not? Come take a closer look, and feel free to touch. Nothing like a handful of helpless captive pony flesh to get your juices flowing as you know by now”.
Mandy reached up with her gloved hand to grasp and savagely shook the ponies bridle. “Behave yourself, pony, or else Miss Judith will think her birthdays come early!” She turned back to me, beckoning me forward. “Young Judith just so loves it when she gets the opportunity to thrash a ponyboy, and she’s had her eye on Poppy here ever since he arrived”.
I was only too eager to do as she asked. I wanted hands-on experience, after all, did I not, and such was my prime reason for being there. Mandy smiled at my evident eagerness as she transferred her hold on the bridle to me and stepped aside while I took command of my first Ponyboy.
He was young; I could see that as I twisted the bridle towards me to get a better look at the animal. Frightened, outraged brown eyes glared at me in frustrated anger. I was already familiar with the expression, for I’d seen that same look of helpless rage in my Beauties eyes many times already. It moved me no more than hers had, nor did the underlying desperate plea to help him have the slightest effect.
Inevitably I felt my body respond the opposite way as I exalted in that familiar deliciously erotic surge that made me tingle. He might be a lean, powerful young man, but he was also a helpless captive colt trembling with apprehension at the smaller female who gripped his bridle slowly, forcing his reluctant head down to her level. I noticed his eyes constantly flicked from me to Mandy and felt a spurt of irritation, so I shook his head savagely from side to side and tapped him sharply on the nose with two fingers of my other hand.
“Don’t worry about your beautiful Mistress pony; I am the only one you need to concentrate on for now, just me unless you want me to add a few more strokes to Miss Judith’s birthday present as well!” I added as an ominous afterthought.
Mandy sniggered while the creature I was holding shuddered in fear, his eyes suddenly pleading rather than impotently threatening and an involuntary muted noise emanated from behind his bit. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I suspect the translation would be along the lines of ‘no, please no!’
I ran an appraising eye over the other three ponies, who were all standing straight and still apart from their heaving chests. Silent other than deep laboured breathing as they attempted to get their breath back. Mandy had must have run them at a gallop all the way to meet me and by the look of the fresh marks on all four rumps not spared her whip!
All four were similar in physique, broad of shoulder slim of waist, very slim, I noted, which was probably the result of those leather corsets which appeared to be an integral part of their harness. It was easy to see that Poppy was the newcomer by the paleness of his skin compared to the other three animals' tanned hides; also, their legs were noticeably more muscled and better developed.
I could see several of the ponies trying to twist their upper bodies to see us. As my eyes moved downwards, I could see that each ponies' penis was also heavily restrained, fitted inside what seemed to be a hard pink plastic sheath, which forced the organ back between its legs. The obligatory tail also jutted from the rear of each beast plugged, of course, into their anus. Judging by the soiled legs of two of them, whatever retaining plug they used was of the hollow variety that allowed free passage of pony shit as and when it needed to come out, bypassing the animal's natural ability for self-control!
“Steady”, I admonished as I ran an appraising hand over his body. “Steady boy, stand still, or you’ll regret it!” I promised. Like and yet not like I mused as I groped quivering pony flesh. I wasn’t referring to that exciting feeling of empowerment but more to substance. I’d already lost count of the number of times my hands had roamed over Beauty, but there was a slightly different feel to this pony. Not quite as soft, I surmised a definite masculine feel instead of my Beauties feminine softness. Or was that merely my imagination?
I released him and took a couple of steps backwards, frowning as I did so; something wasn’t quite right. “They all look, at least the other three look a little, a little misshaped somehow,” I said, unintentionally speaking my thoughts aloud. Something was odd, not quite right. I turned to look at Mandy, not quite sure how to put my thoughts into words, not realising that I already had.
Mandy smiled. “Yup, you’re not wrong, Honey, a subtle difference that gets less subtle the longer they are in captivity. You can always tell the real long termer’s. The creatures lower half develop significantly while the upper atrophies to a certain extent. Arms become virtually useless, and their chests lose all their muscle structure.
“Sort of dead from the waist up, you mean?”
Mandy laughed.” Kind of like that. I’ve seen male ponies that have been in captivity for twenty years and more. They have huge chests like Tarzan, lung development due to the frequent physical exertion they endure, yet if you look closely, only the musculature of a nine-year-old. It comes from the long term inability to use the arms and upper body. It doesn’t seem to affect females to the same extent, fortunately. Something to do with their udders, I expect!”
Mandy lept nimbly back up on to the driving bench and patted the cushioned seat beside her, inviting me to climb up. I needed no second invitation and, for the first time in my life, enjoyed the thrilling view of four pony rumps all harnessed, helpless and ready to feel the whip as needed or desired by the driver.
Four healthy and fit young men, but for all their apparent strength, all four were tightly controlled and restrained, helpless to do anything but what their driver wished. Their arms were pulled firmly behind their backs, encased in a tight leather glove that reached their shoulders and was secured with buckled leather straps. The reins which Mandy held were attached to large silver rings at each end of the ponies' bits; tall leather collars held their heads up and appeared to minimise side-to-side movement. Large blinkers attached to a web of straps across the upper part of the head further limited the animals' field of view to straight ahead, while a heavy brass ring hung from the nose of each onto their upper lips.
Mandy shook the reins and picked her whip out of its container where she’d briefly stowed it. “Walk on”, she commanded and at the same time cracked the whip over the ponies heads. The animals leaned into their traces, and with a slight lurch and instantly moved forward.
“Still too slow that one”, she muttered, and the whip flicked out, catching Poppy on a patch of bare shoulder flesh, making him yelp against his bit.
“Do the armbinders ever come off?” I asked, looking at the backs and harnessed arms in front of me and thinking about what she had said about physique.
Mandy shook her head. “Nope, never bar some medical emergency. Don’t believe all that silly stuff about removing arms you sometimes read in fiction or see in artwork. Utter nonsense, could you imagine the cost, never mind the health risk of losing your animal. Pure fantasy, as I said. Besides, that sort of stupidity makes a pony lose the will to live, kills any spirit they may have. A pony without any spirit is a total no-no so far as I am concerned.
I have an old pony that’s been stabled for almost a quarter of a century. She’d been in harness for a dozen years when I got her. It would take you half a day to count the whip marks on her hide; I’d bet,” Mandy laughed. “ Outwardly as docile as pet hamster yet if she ever got loose and had a chance to get her hands on me! I can still see that look in her eyes at times.”
Mandy paused and cracked the whip over her team's heads, then chuckled. “Mind you, if the animal is fool enough to let me see that certain look in its sad eyes, it earns the wretched creature a few more marks on its hide!”
We rounded a bend, and the trees on one side gave way to some open fields. Mandy pointed with her whip. Sally has got Sampson and Hercules hard at it over there. Bob sends his apologies, by the way. Leastways he would if he knew you were coming. He’ll be sorry to have missed you, but he’s taking the cure as he calls it.
“Where is he. Cure, not ill, I trust?”
“Hang on a minute, let's swing through that gap in the fence and run down and say hello to Sally. Whoa, whoa ponies, whoa, you fucking useless animals. Now walk on, move!”
Mandy flicked out indiscriminately with the whip and hauled on the reins dragging the team round to the right, and we moved through the gap in the wooden fence that had once contained a five bar gate. The rotted remains of which I saw laying to one side. We veered round to the left and headed for the distant figures at the bottom of the long field.
“Hang on”, Mandy cautioned. “This might be a bit bumpy, and this thing doesn’t have the best shock absorbers”, She laughed and added.” Actually, it doesn’t have any—a bit of primitive springing, and that's about all. Four-wheel or should I say four horsepower drive, though” she laughed.
I grabbed the seat and the rail on my side as we lurched over the rutted ground. “Mandy was cracking the whip hard and not just in empty air. She was seriously flogging the ponies to greater effort, not for speed but merely to pull us over the rough terrain.”
“Got to keep the lazy bastards moving”, she muttered, “otherwise we’ll bog down. GO ON, PULL. PULL YOU LAZY FUCKERS OR I’LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!” The whip cracked again and again on helpless bare skin.
Jeez. I thought to myself as bleeding stripe after stripe decorated the skin of the ponies pulling us. Compared to her, I really am an amateur! It was an awesome spectacle and looking sideways as she so effectively flogged her team to greater efforts also erotically stimulating. The beautiful woman in the crisp white outfit so totally in control of those sweating, straining captive beasts!
We lurched onto smoother ground, and Mandy eased off, panting slightly from her energetic use of the whip. Judging by the laboured sounds emanating from those in front, they would be grateful both for the absence of whip and slowing of pace. Mandy must have thought the same.
“We‘ll take a breather down there with Sally, let the bastards get their breath back. Bob needs to run them a bit more. Less bum fucking and more leg work. “She shook the reins, and they picked up the pace again. “To be fair,” she added, “they usually work in pairs harnessed to a lighter single-seat sulky and Bob, as you’ve seen, is no heavyweight. This is a lot weightier than it looks, especially two up, plus they are not used to pulling it”.
I grinned. “So they have an excuse, poor dears.”
“Mandy snorted. “No fucking excuses. I’ll have Sarah, my head girl, by the way, harness them to this every day till Bob gets back and run the fat off them or strip it off them with her whip! My fillies would have managed better than these pathetic pampered colts!”
I was a little taken back by her anger. I wondered if, having gone to a certain length to impress me, she was feeling a touch letdown. I looked at those bleeding rumps in front and was stirred enough to change the subject.
“You were saying something about Bob just now. Is he ill?”
Mandy shook her head. “No, not as such. His back plays him up every so often, or so he says, and he feels the need for a bit of warm sunshine. Lumbago, my fanny! Some friends of ours in the West Indies own a small private island. There used to be a plantation there, and they still run one. A very traditional one, if you get my meaning.” She emphasised the point by holding up the whip. “They keep a varied selection of skin colours in the old slave quarters to work the fields, so you could hardly call them racist, but there's always at least a couple of cute young black bucks available for Bob. Plus, he’s got some business interests over in that part of the world”.
“Two birds with one stone, then.”
Mandy laughed. “Yeah, business and buggery! Still, José and Madeleine also set an excellent table and have an enviable wine cellar. They’re retired and run the place mainly for their private amusement but take several paying guests. There are certain people who lack their own facilities or for various reasons prefer to keep certain ‘unusual’ interests ultra-private. They are prepared to pay handsomely for the privilege of playing ‘overseer’ to those who have to toil under both lash and the hot sun!”
“Another case of two birds with one stone then”, I quipped, making her laugh again as we approached the little group at the bottom of the long field. “Whoa, whoa ponies. Easy, easy now,” Mandy called, hauling the reins and bringing us to a standstill some way short of our destination and turned to me.
“I should perhaps explain first. Sally is a cousin of Bob’s, and you’ll notice that she is very diminutive in stature, shall I put it that way. Bobs relatively short, at least heightwise, but fortunately not else where as I once told you. It runs in his family. Not exactly dwarfism because they are all perfectly proportioned but some form of inherited growth hormone deficiency. There is a complicated medical name, but I can never remember it. A Sensitive subject, so it never gets mentioned. Sally alas is one of the more extreme cases”.
I nodded politely. “ I understand,” I told her. I didn’t and wasn’t sure where she was going, but it was evidently important, so I encouraged her to elaborate with a gesture. Mandy smiled and continued.
“Poor Sally had a terrible childhood. Her parents tried to give the poor dear as normal an upbringing as possible, but she was terribly bullied to the extent that she went through several nervous breakdowns and even tried to take her own life on two occasions”.
“Oh, the poor woman” I turned to look at the three figures, two very large and a smaller in a carriage of some sort and then back to Mandy, still puzzled as she immediately realised and promptly joined the dots for me.
“Status and power,” Mandy said. “Poor Sally has been jeered at, called a midget, a dwarf, a mistake, a dolly and, well, you can guess. The poor kid soon developed a massive inferiority complex. There was even a time when she had to be briefly institutionalised for her own safety.
I turned again and looked at the two massive figures. “Hercules and Sampson I said, recalling what she’d told me in my kitchen. I think I know what you're getting at, Mandy. Therapy. Payback time!”
“Exactly. No need for me to give you chapter and verse. Sally is about ten years younger than me but looks a lot younger because of her size. She’s very happily settled now and works as a receptionist in a local medical practice but comes over here when Bob is away. You just worked out why.
“She looks after his ponies.”
Mandy shook her head. “Nope, my girls do that; they do almost all of the routine stuff with them anyway in the stable. Everything bar punishment and abusing their ponyboy cunts! Those are exclusively for Bob alone. No, he entrusts his two gigantic work beasts to her tender care, and as you’ll see, it is not exactly tender!” Mandy chuckled and gave the reins a shake. “Walk-on, walk-on”.
I looked with renewed interest at the threesome we were approaching. Two huge ponyboys were slowly dragging something along the ground. Behind that, a small two-wheeled carriage followed; apparently self-propelled or was it attached to whatever it was, they were both straining themselves to pull.
“Hiya Sal, working them hard, I see.”
Sally responded with a brief wicked laugh. “When did I ever do easy with them, Mandy?” she looked across at me curiously, and Mandy did the honours and explained my presence. Sally flashed a lovely smile at me and nodded in approval, saying that Mandy was one of the best when it came to owning two-legged animals such as them. She nodded again, but this time toward the pony team in front of our trap.
I smiled back. “You have your own two well under control, I see”.
Sally was a tiny, almost child-sized woman but very attractive, I thought and, as Mandy had said, perfectly formed in every way. I could understand people calling her a ‘dolly’, for I had to stifle an immediate urge to pick her up and cuddle her. I was immediately aware, though, that I had said something wrong, for she stiffened and flashed an angry look at me.
“Those two are not ponies, my dear. There is nothing graceful or elegant about these two over-sized clumsy, dumb brutes. There is nothing noble or noteworthy that might be pleasing to the eye or worthy of compliment unless you’re a fan of such unkempt stinking monstrous creatures. Primitive beasts they are, and as such, they will be treated.” She regarded me thoughtfully for a moment and then flashed that beaming smile. “I’m sorry, you are new, so I should apologise, but don’t let these hairy muscle-bound animals fool you for one second. They are only under control because of the restraints placed upon them and the fact that there is no escape from my whip, none whatsoever.” She smiled again and gestured with the long flexible thin stick-like implement she held. “I may be small, but the force is with me, my dear, voilà!”
The way she used the French word was cute, but there was nothing remotely cute about the simple method she employed to emphasise the word. That long thin black rod she held was swiftly drawn back, bending like a fishing rod; it was so flexible then flicked forward almost faster than my eye could follow. Once twice to cut into the skin of her two ’beasts’.
That vertical whip, or whatever it was, looked pretty damn nasty. Its end curled around each rump cheek with a vicious biting caress that left a bloody welt as it sprang back. The two huge men jumped where they stood and immediately made loud, but at the same time, indistinct muted howling sounds that added to the animalistic element.
“Ring gags”, a laconic voice from beside me noted then elaborated. “Loose one. Sally likes to hear them respond loudly to her little acts of encouragements but does not want to hear any coherent objections they may foolishly have to such actions! Note their lack of harness as well.”
I looked at the colossal writhing pair and could see what she meant. It wasn’t just the lack of harness either, for the more I scrutinised them, the more Sally’s insistence on the term beast became apparent. On the end of Mandy’s reins, the ponyboys were clean, appealing, stylish with their uniform Mohican hairstyles, smooth-shaven young masculine oiled bodies and brilliant, polished leather harness. A certain chic about them to delight the beholder's fetish loving eye. Stylish, classy, elegant even in total contrast to the two brutes on the end of Sally’s reins.
They wore no harness and were entirely naked apart from some badly scuffed heavy-looking knee-high hoof boots and the obligatory device restraining their captive manhood. The latter being black plastic or metal tubes protruding out from their groins like the bowsprit of an old sailing ship. The bulbous purple-red hued heads of their circumcised cocks poked out of the end of each tight tube. They swayed seemingly almost as separate entities like two thick dark, steemed protruding flower buds as their owners wriggled and stamped their booted feet in angry, pained rage!
Their heads and hands were pinioned by a massive old fashion wooden oxen yoke that forced them to adopt a forward-leaning head down position, and it looked exceedingly heavy. A substantial steel collar also circled their necks with sturdy chains leading to similar steel bands around their wrists. Similar bands and chains hobbled their legs and would allow them only enough leeway to take relatively short steps. That would be an additional burden, no doubt, as they endeavoured to pull that peculiar object behind them.
They were also very shaggy, sweaty, dirty and unkempt, unlike the pristine ponyboys. Both of them sported great tangled tufts of unsightly body hair that enhanced their animalistic aspect. Their hair was a matted ragged mane hanging down their backs, crudely hacked off at the front and sides likewise their short misshapen beards. The tails dangling from each rectum were stiff with congealed excrement, much to the delight of the many flys that were tormenting them. Both of them had angry red-rimmed eyes that glared at me as I looked with undisguised hatred. The sheer venom in them that I found rather frightening. Mandy must have sensed this, for she laughed and put her hand on top of one of mine reassuringly.
“Don’t fret yourself, Honey. Those filthy beasts may look like they want to kill us; indeed, I'm sure they’d do just that without a second thought, but they’ve no chance, plus Sally’s got them well in hand, haven’t you dear?”
The little woman gave a tinkling laugh. “Sure have. These two fuckers know who calls the shots and keeps them on the straight and narrow. We don’t dare deviate by so much as a single millimetre, do we animals?”
I watched in fascination as the tiny yet so confidently controlling woman casually knotted two sets of reins to the conveyance, then swung herself down. I doubted if she was much over four feet tall, maybe even an inch or two under that. I noted that she had to swing herself over the side and used the sizeable spoked wheel as a ladder to reach the ground. Once there, she took a long thin whippy riding crop from a slot and walked up to face those two huge captives who towered above her, helpless, impotent as to satisfying that seething rage within them.
Sally said nothing, nor did she do anything for a few moments, merely standing there calmly looking up at the two brutes and casually flexing that wicked-looking crop between her hands. I looked back to the two-wheeled carriage taking in the overall scene. A pretty white parasol was fitted to protect her from the sun, and on a tray, she could swing back and forth a variety of items for her convenience. A cell phone, a tablet computer, an empty plastic sandwich pack along with a couple of cans of soda and a bottle of sun protection oil. There was a small plastic Tupperware lidded box with something wriggling in it.
The long sets of reins led forward to two small brass nose rings on each creature. I’d read about that evil control technique. A small cable was carefully threaded up one nostril, through the sinuses and down the other nostril. The rings were attached to that small cable's ends and could cause incredible pain at the merest tug. No wonder Sally was ultra-confident of her control. I doubted that she even needed that vicious long flexible, whip, sick or whatever that I‘d seen her use.
It was also obvious now what task she’d had them labouring to perform. That odd-looking device between carriage and team was some sort of plough, and she’d got them opening up long straight deep furrows in the turf. God, the ground was so dry and hard. I looked at the parasol and soft drinks upon the tray and then the plough and thought of the back-breaking labour they must have to perform to drag that thing through the ground. No wonder the sweat was running off them, and I could smell the stench of their stale body odour from where I sat.
Sally, I noticed, was still regarding her two enormous charges with a thoughtful expression on her sweet face. Somehow, she managed to look like a pubescent teenager and a beautiful mature woman at one and the same time. Her wardrobe though I suspected, was indeed very much of the junior miss variety. Shapely legs thrust into beige cowboy boots, faded denim shorts with embroidered pockets, a very skimpy tank top that barely covered her midriff. I’d guess from the amount it displayed almost certainly designed for a young girl, not for a woman with substantial cleavage, albeit on a diminutive scale. A wide-brimmed lacey cotton summer hat sat atop her shoulder-length blonde hair.
“I love her; she’s an absolute angel”, I whispered to Mandy. I’d been going to add something like ‘perfection in miniature but prudently decided against it.
“Adorable, we all love her, so” Mandy agreed as we watched the tableaux played out before us. Sally, I surmised, was also evidently a bit of an exhibitionist by her actions. Conscious of her audience not counting the ponyboys, of course, other than perhaps making them thankful for small mercies. I doubt that they’d have wished to exchange even their miserable lives for that endured by the two behemoths in Sally’s charge.
The contrast between those two and their tiny Mistress was so incredibly mesmerising, like the legendary elephant and the mouse. Or in this scenario, two elephants and one mouse but oh so sexy a mouse. A very confident mouse, a very dominant and assertive mouse and most clit tingling of all, a cruel, calculatingly sadistic mouse that stood quite fearlessly before those two hulking monsters!
Sally flashed another smile at me then, still flexing that crop, barked out an order “Present!” I watched fascinated as the two beasts slowly and with evident reluctance stilled their bodies and made some effort of standing erect or attempting to as far as those heavy yokes allowed them.
“She’s added extra weights to those yokes today”, Mandy whispered gleefully. “What a little demon she is!”
“Wicked”, I added, making a mental note that Mandy had actually said ‘little’, so maybe I needn’t tread so carefully trying to be ‘politically correct.’ Was that the proper term, I briefly wondered, or was there some height-related equivalent. No matter. I returned my attention to the sexy little demon!
It was, as I’ve said, fascinating. Those two huge, what were their names? Sampson and Hercules both standing so stiff and subdued before their tiny tormentor, and yet you could literally almost feel the suppressed rage that filled the two creatures that was barely under their control. Even sitting some yards away, it was so tangible, so intense. Had I said that I felt one hundred per cent safe just at that moment, it would have been a complete lie.
“Notice their red eyes?” Mandy asked quietly.
I nodded. “Yes”.
“Pepper, she loves the visual effect, so she treats them before bringing them out. I’ll bet she added another irritating little concoction to their rectums as well via their tail plugs.” Mandy whispered. “She spares them not one jot! I’ll bet they pray for Bob’s return every night!” she chuckled. “See that little plastic box on her convenience tray?”
I nodded. “I wondered what that was”
“Bugs”, Mandy replied.
“What?”
“Bugs, you know insects. Every so often, she will hop down and pick up a nice juicy worm they’ve turned up. Maybe a slug or a spider or something. Extra protein, she calls it, and she’ll pop it into a mouth through the ring gag, and they better swallow it unless they want to feel that whip!”.
My God, I thought as we both turned to watch Sally step forward, no longer flexing that ominous crop but tapping the end flap up and down upon the palm of her left hand. I sensed what was coming next from watching the two Beasts who were attempting to lean backwards as far as possible, those sizeable plastic tubes bobbing obscenely in front of them. They both knew exactly what the little dominants next move would be.
One-two, one-two. The crop swung hard, fast and accurately—two stokes down upon the bulbous heads poking out of those black tubes and twice up. I noticed that the restraining device that provided those tubes catered for their big swollen balls, each held captive by a stainless steel ring—no prize for guessing the target of the little Madam's upswing strokes!
Sally didn’t even bother herself looking at the animated creatures clumsily dancing in agony, loudly giving full if distorted voice to the searing pain that wracked their exposed genitals. Her absolute authority had been impressed upon them once again as it had on many previous occasions. She spun on her heel and flounced back to the carriage, one small hand holding her sun hat as a gust of wind caught it.
We watched as she swung her self back up into her seat, arranged the tray and adjusted her parasol. She smiled at us and raised a can of soda in mock salute before taking a drink, then took the reins in one hand and her long slender whip in the other. The reins shook, making the two beasts squeal once more, and that whip flicked up and down, twice, adding yet another stipe to their scarred rumps and eliciting even more agonised cries. “Hup animals, hup, another hour of sod breaking and then I think a nice little trot to cool you off to finish our nice day in the sun, hup, hup!” That merciless flexible whip lashed out twice more.
“Walk on, walk-on” Mandy shook the reins she held and cracked her whip but only in the air over our ponies heads. I looked back as the sound of flesh being bitten by that punishing rod sounded twice more. The two beasts were bent almost double as they strove to start that plough she’d got them harnessed to moving again. I sensed as much as saw the effort they must have to use, and there was no way Sally would ever spare them from that long stick-like lash of hers.
We bumped back on to the path picking up the pace as Mandy shook the reins again, and this time used her whip upon the lead ponies rumps. One-two! I reached for the rail again just in case. ”That long sort of whip thing she’s got? ”I queried.
“One of Bob’s brilliant ideas. She finds it hard to use a whip-like this” Mandy cracked hers and caught the unfortunate Poppy on the rump, making him jump and almost lose the pace as he squealed into his bit but managed to maintain his footing. “Short-range, crops, canes and such no problems” She paused and giggled. “She might need to stand on a box, of course, but in that trap, as you noticed, she’s quite well back from those meaty rumps she needs to flog and flog hard if those brutes are to perform as she requires”.
“I looked back at the now distant threesome. Was that wicked tool of hers being used again?” I wondered. “Silly question I told myself thinking upon the state their hides were in and her attitude towards her reluctant charges!”.
“Some sort of thin composite rod”, Mandy elaborated. “Fibreglass or maybe carbon-fibre, Bob could tell you. It's ultra-light, thicker at the base than the upper end and bends so beautifully. A mere flick of her wrist and the force at the tip is quite considerable. Did you see the way it bites into their rumps or wherever?”
“Hard to miss”, I noted.
Mandy laughed. “Yeah, she’s very well practised. The amount of effort is minimal for the damage she can do with it. Poor Bob usually has to leave them stabled when he returns from his little jaunts until they're recovered enough for an outing. That doesn't spare them his cock, though, if he fancies one of the ugly brutes,” she added with a giggle.
“I wonder which rod they prefer! I quipped. “Hey, steady on!”
“Sorry,” Mandy said, laughing. “That was funny—lost concentration for a second. Let's pick up the pace” the whip cracked again, and another pony squealed.
The trees were fast approaching, and I turned again for a final look. I liked little Sally; she stirred something deep within me. She might be childlike, but it wasn’t that that appealed to me.
“Hup, hup”, Mandy called and cracked her whip again. “Hup Hup”, the whip flicked out again, but this time she did not crack it. Instead, with four quick consecutive, practised flicks, the tip kissed four pony rumps eliciting more muted squeals of pain. The trap picked up speed as the ponies accelerated. I noticed that Poppy still seemed a fraction slower than the other three, but Mandy let it go this time.
“Cantering,” Mandy observed. “Not a bad speed. I’ll keep this pace and then put them to a short gallop for the final stretch.”
I was hanging on to the rail as the trap bounced along. It seemed to me we were already going at a pretty good pace and said so.
“Mmmm, could be better. Look at their legs, Poppy is not stepping correctly, and it’s out of sequence with the other three ponies. It tends to crop the speed and affects the smoothness of the ride quite noticeably.
“Are you going to whip him?”
“Nope, or rather yes but not me. And not now. Hard to correct once one loses the rhythm with an inexperienced pony. A well-trained team could correct themselves, especially with a bit of additional encouragement from the driver's whip. The only thing I could do now would be to stop and then start them again, but it’s not worth the effort as we will soon be at the house.”
I saw some tall ornate chimney pots peeping over the trees in front of us as the path snaked in that direction. Mandy cried out again, and her whip repeated the four quick flicks producing an instant acceleration as her team responded. Those hoof booted legs were really pumping as we flew over the ground and took a corner almost on one wheel. Mandy laughing gleefully, and me hanging on to my seat in fear of an imminent capsize of the lightweight vehicle!
There was the red brick and white stone house in front of us, but the trap didn’t slow. We shot across the gravelled forecourt and through the old narrow coach arch into the courtyard area beyond where Mandy skillfully swung the trap around. She savagely hauled back on the reins, which in turn stretched the corners of the ponies' mouths, causing them to lean back, digging their feet into the gravel, trying to slow and relieve the painful pressure on their mouths immediately.
“Whoa, whoa, ponies, whoa!” she shouted, bringing us to a sliding halt. “Home”, she announced with a beaming triumphant smile and added with a laugh.“First time I’ve galloped through that arch with a team of four. Just for a second, I thought I’d misjudged it!”
A tall willowy attractive blonde girl came running out from the nearby building. Like Maddy, she wore a blue and white chequered shirt and tight blue jeans, although in her case, the shirt was casually knotted about her midriff and displayed a generous cleavage. The sleeves were rolled up, and I noticed her arms, although slim, were decidedly muscled. Her long blonde hair was caught up into a single pleated pigtail that hung halfway down her back with a small white bow at the end.
“This is Judith”, Mandy said, waving a casual hand in the girl's direction and introducing me. “One of my stable girls and our resident part-time vet when she’s not skiving off playing in some damn tennis tournament or other.”
That explained the glasses and the rather studious air she had; I thought as I shook hands and was surprised at her firm grip. “Vet?” I queried.
Judith laughed. “Hardly, just finished my fourth year at Uni. I work here in the hols, and Mrs Montague-Smythe has been kind enough to sponsor my tennis tournaments. She’s always teasing about the vet bit, although a nurse or some such would probably be more useful here.”
“Her mother was a friend of mine”, Mandy explained. “Don’t do yourself down, dear. Your veterinary skills are just as useful.”Mandy winked at me, then laughed and added, “Not to mention that excellent forehand and backhands your arm can deliver. A joy to watch, and I’m not talking tennis!” Mandy grinned and gave me another mischievous wink.
“You like working here then, Judith?” I stopped and added a little sheepishly,” Actually, I suppose that is rather a silly question” it was my turn to laugh mainly to cover my naive embarrassment.
“Not at all, ma’am. The work is undoubtedly very unusual but so very rewarding. The ponygirls here are so adorable, and I could spend hours just stroking and grooming them. Plus, it's such fun when they are naughty, especially the new ones!” this time, she was the one to wink. “Will you need these beasts again later, Madam?” Judith asked respectfully, nodding toward the traps motive power.
“No, I don’t think so. We’ll go and have some refreshments and then take a tour of the stables. I’ve arranged a picnic lunch, and Sarah already knows which ponies to get ready. You can water these animals and then put them back in their stalls. Oh, and talking about naughtiness or perhaps downright pigheaded stupidity, Poppy was way below par. String him up to the beam, and when we visit, you may demonstrate that arm of yours for us.”
Judith was clearly delighted, and as we walked towards the big house, I looked back to see her holding Poppy's bridle, leaning close as though telling him something. What was the beam, I wondered? Also, was it my imagination, I wondered, but did I detect a distinct difference of tone and attitude between the softer way she spoke about the ponygirls and her reference to the ponyboys as beasts! Perhaps her birthday had come early as Mandy had said! That prompted the question I’d meant to ask.
“Sally, is she married or anything, boyfriend…or even girlfriend?”
Mandy paused and looked at me speculatively. “Good question and I can’t give you an answer because I don't know. Fascinating little body, isn’t she? Not married, and as far as I know, no boyfriend and has never mentioned one. All my girls naturally adore her. Of course, they are all either bi or lesbian. I’ve never seen her get over friendy with any of them, though. As far as her sex life goes, all I can tell you is that she keeps several sizeable vibrators by her bed” Mandy laughed and added, “Maybe she shares that characteristic with my Bob; her toys are certainly large.”
She paused and cocked her head in the direction we had just come from. “I suspect that they’ll get some use tonight after today's little excursion, I shouldn’t wonder! Come on, let's have a coffee and a nibble. I’m so silly; I should have asked you to bring some of those delicious biscuits with you.”
I smiled and tapped my shoulder bag. “No problem, I was never a scout or a guide, but I came prepared”.
Mandy led the way into her vast, well house would be quite the wrong term for such an imposing dwelling. I looked back, recalling the eager look I’d caught in Judith's eye and remembered how Poppy had quailed earlier at the mention of Miss Judith. The stables promised to be fun indeed!