Pony Ranch

Chapter fourteen.

A week or so earlier, back in my kitchen at what you could call the genesis of this outing, Mandy had said about Helga being big or on the plus side; I suppose I ought to say to in these days of universal political correctness. Thinking back, she’d said, ‘Helga looks like a slightly smaller version of Sally’s Medusa, big, butch and decidedly ugly!’ and a reasonably apt description it had been, I thought as we approached the glowering German woman.

Most people would smile when someone they knew approached, not necessarily a beaming one of welcome but at least one of guarded neutrality, perhaps with a hint of warmth. But that expression on the big woman’s harsh face wasn’t exactly what I would describe as welcoming. Likewise, any hint of warmth was more akin to hell's infernal fire than a comfortable fireside hearth. I shivered inwardly, recalling something else Mandy had said during that coffee break conversation. ‘Hers is the one stable out of all the ones I know where I’d not want to end up occupying a stall!’

Looking at the woman, I could see why. That face and that expression might launch a thousand ships, except they’d all be headed as far away from her as possible. Despite all her good humour and charm, Mandy was probably the evillest woman I knew, and the gorgeous Penny hadn’t been much different. Plus, I was no saint, not after the last half year or so. Yet we didn’t look or act the part, whereas Helga did!

If I’d picked Mandy out at a summer garden social event and told people even a little of what I knew about her excessive cruelty, I’d probably have had a hard job convincing my audience, yet one look at Helga would have sufficed. That’s assuming that any average rational person would believe the tales I could now tell about human equine ownership.

I pondered upon that seeming paradox as we walked towards the waiting Helga. I liked Mandy and didn’t think of her as evil—friendly, vivacious, funny, generous, good company and so forth, yes. Evil no, and yet….yes, it was a bit disconcerting, was it not, and I wasn’t any better, was I!

“I have been waiting for you”, Helga said somewhat reproachfully as we drew nearer. She was even bigger, close-up, big and very powerful looking, the sort of woman who could make someone like Sarah appear almost on the dainty side. Mandy had been right; she and my Sally’s Medusa, well if not identical twins, could have passed at a much smaller scale for near-matching bookends on a shelf.

To be strictly accurate, what she said sounded more like “I haff ben vaiting for you!” and she didn’t so much say it as half spoke, half growled it, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ll stick to a simple non-dialect translation from now on. It was probably a good job that Suzy was still a good way behind, slowly walking Candyfloss down. Asking who Ben was and why he’d been waiting was just the sort of thing that irrepressible young madam was capable of! Then again, maybe not; the forbidding expression on the German woman's face was far better than any warning sign.

Helga stood next to her large horse transporter stroke RV van, arms akimbo, hands on hips, her substantial bosom aggressively thrusting out from a men's chequered flannel work shirt. The vehicle's rear doors were open, and the ramp was already down. There was nothing remotely attractive about the woman nor anything the least bit stylish. Her dusky blonde hair was cropped so short it resembled the cut I imagined they gave you on your first day in the military: the Male recruits, anyway. Standing with her legs apart in skin-tight blue jeans and shiny black riding boots, the woman had a commanding presence.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting”, Mandy apologised. I don’t think you were here earlier, and after we dropped the livestock off, we needed to have lunch and check into our accommodation. Then we got caught by Sir Jeffrey and a couple of his guests.”

“Yes, so I saw. Is no matter. I have plenty of time to make the ferry even if the roads are no good with traffic”.

“You are not staying for the auction then?” Mandy queried.

 “No, that was my original plan, but now it has changed. I had business elsewhere, Scotland, and now, once we finish business here, I need to go home. Some things I must take care of, but no big problem, I think.” She laughed and made that whip-cracking motion with her right arm that I’d become familiar with.

The laugh changed her face completely, as did the smile that followed it. I wouldn’t say it would win her any beauty contests, but at least it wouldn’t have terrified the judges. It was repeated as Mandy introduced me, and the accompanying handshake, though hearty, was easily survivable, unlike Sir Jefferys’ bone crusher. I wondered if that related to his time in the foreign and diplomatic service, some form of one-upmanship when ambassadors and suchlike met to decide who was a top dog. Probably not, I decided, but it was an amusing thought.

“Velcome.” Whoops, I’m slipping. “Welcome, welcome, I welcome you to the fraternity as a new owner of animals,” Helga said to me somewhat formally, but I did get the feeling that she meant it kindly.” Now, this is the creature, is it not?” She asked as the girls approached, leading Candyfloss. “Trudi, Trudi, come.” She called, clapping her hands and turning toward her transport, then barked out something in German that was loud and incomprehensible to me. I looked at Mandy, but she gave a discrete shrug; evidently, she didn't speak the language despite her business dealing in Germany.

As a girl hurriedly exited the big vehicle's side door, I presumed Trudi would be Helga’s younger helper or assistant. I wondered if there was a German term for a stable girl. It was probably one of those extra-long descriptive words that took up half a line to write and just as long to say they seemed to love.

Helga scowled as the younger girl hurried over to join us, a scowl that grew deeper as Sarah and Suzy halted with Candyfloss. “Sarah,” she acknowledged with a brief nod, virtually growling her name and pronouncing it with a distinct Z sound at the beginning. 

“Helga”, Sarah replied with a similar polite nod. Neither woman smiled or showed any emotion whatsoever. The term poker face came to mind, and I noticed a slight look of concern flit across Mandy’s face as though regretting that she'd asked Sarah to help walk Candyfloss down. An impression immediately confirmed as Mandy broke the sudden awkward moment.

“Ah yes, I’d forgotten, silly woman, that I am. Well, business comes first, ladies; let us not allow old grievances to interfere with the transaction. I'm sure we can all rise above that. This is Suzy, one of my more….more enthusiastic girls; she’s on temporary attachment to my friend here while her budding operation gets on its feet. The mare belongs to her; you already know the animal's history.”

“Jah!” Helga nodded towards Suzy, although her eyes were fixed on the now visibly unhappy Candyfloss. I could sympathise with the poor creature; Helga wouldn’t have been my first or even last choice as an owner. One initial glance confirmed that, and the unfortunate Candyfloss had been in harness long enough to know far better than me.

“Ah,” Helga muttered, recalling her manners. She gestured towards Trudi and started to say something in German but quickly stopped herself with a laugh. “Here is Trudi, my assistant for this trip. Also, very what you say, enthusiastic, yes?” she laughed, making a rather unpleasant harsh sound and repeating that up-and-down whipping motion. “I have sold three ponies in Scotland, a long trip, very long as you must know,  but very profitable”, she chuckled, holding her right hand up and rubbing fingers and thumb together in a universal gesture. “Very profitable even though I give some back to buy a new one”.

“And did you enjoy the trip, Trudi?” Mandy inquired politely. I’ve been to that estate several times, and it is indeed a long trip, but the scenery is, at times, quite spectacular.

I looked at the German girl and immediately remembered something else Mandy had said during the coffee break in my kitchen, ‘Hates anything with a pretty face like….well, let’s just say she’s only interested in the prettiest and most shapely ponies’. Neither of the latter terms could have been applied to Trudi, who wasn’t so much looking at Candyfloss as glaring malevolently at her equivalent holding the animal's bridle.

Suzy, I noted, looked a little abashed at that hostile gaze but then caught my eye and shrugged as though to say well, I can’t help it, can I? Well, maybe a looser, less revealing top would have helped, but no apart from that. The girl wasn’t wearing a hint of makeup nor needed to, as that young, big-eared cop had quickly noted. Young Suzy was one of those girls who were not only naturally pretty but, to quote Bob, Mandy's husband, could put a lump in a man’s trousers without even trying. He’d laughed when I called him a ‘dirty old man!’

Poor Trudi was the very opposite. I guessed about the same age and height as Suzy, but that was all they had in common. Whereas Suzy was pretty and had long golden tresses, Trudi was sullenly plain-faced with short, not so much curly as wiry hair. Suzy was slim but shapely with bumps where bumps should be, whereas the bespecled, plain-faced German girl was all bump, not so much pear-shaped as apple-shaped, with arms, legs and head as additional appendages. I won’t say those thousand mythical Greek ships would have sailed in the opposite direction as per her employer, but looks wise; I doubted that a single one would have bothered to raise sail on her behalf. Then again, would any Trojan have been that desperate to abduct her in the first place?

“Her teeth are good”, Helga noted approvingly, having taken Candyfloss’s bridle from Suzy and was very professionally, if somewhat roughly, examining the helpless animal. I noted that Candyfloss wasn’t offering the slightest resistance to those big hands, but why should she? The pony had spent at least half her life in harness and under the whip and knew well enough that upsetting her latest owner-to-be wouldn’t be the wisest of strategies.

“She has been well marked”, Mandy noted; more a professional observation, I thought, than any sort of apology. “But she has been in harness for a long time”.

“Not my fault”, Suzy interjected quickly. “Most of that was done before my aunt gave her to me. I didn’t need to do much, not after Aunty ensured she was so docile”.

“Jah”, Helga nodded. “That is good for what I want. It is not for me that she will be, and the marks, poof, who cares?” she laughed, releasing Candyfloss’s bridle and patting one of the mares's scarred big breasts. “No matter. Her hide will soon carry many more. My niece she is very young, but already she likes to make them sing loud. You like to sing, eh?” she slapped the breast lightly, picked up the loose rein that Sarah had dropped and beckoned to her helper.

“A chip off the same block, I expect”, Mandy whispered, leaning into me as I watched Candyfloss being led towards the big van, then I glanced curiously at Suzy. The girl didn’t seem bothered or upset at losing her old mare or concerned about what might happen to Candyfloss in the future. It wasn’t that she was cruel…well, silly thing to say, for she was, of course, but she’d never seemed that interested in Candyfloss. Maybe initially when she’d been given to her, but that had long since worn off. I wondered why she’d even bothered to bring her to my farm, for besides feeding and daily grooming, she’d hardly bothered with the animal. I ought perhaps to have asked, but my ruminations were abruptly cut short by an explosive exclamation from the young Miss in question.

“Wowzer!”

Mandy chuckled, looking towards the ramp leading down from the van's rear. “Always better in the flesh than any photo”. Then, as something distracted her, she turned her head and quickly raised her hand to wave towards a pony cart that whizzed past in the distance. It had emerged from a clump of trees, was in view for a few seconds, and disappeared behind another patch of woodland, moving so fast that it was more an image imprinted on my mind than viewed through my eyes.

Two galloping ponies, two figures seated on the cart behind them, one of them wearing a white wide-brimmed floppy hat raising a whip, but whether in greeting to us or to use upon those hard-worked ponies wasn’t clear but a couple of faint cracks settled that question.

“Is good, yes?” we turned back in unison at Helga’s voice as she gestured towards the tightly restrained ponyboy Trudi was leading towards us. A very skittish pony by how it was behaving or misbehaving or, more accurately,  trying unsuccessfully to misbehave!

“Hir, hir, gute, danke!” I could understand that as Trudi obediently led or rather hauled the reluctant creature to the spot indicated by her large employer, who nodded her thanks and shot another of those smiles or what passed for a smile at us. The girl wasn’t tall and dwarfed almost by the ponyboy, who would have been tall without the extra inches provided by his hoofboots. Too tall for Trudi’s plump forearm to have grasped his bridle, so she dragged him along by a short leash attached to the front of a very uncomfortable-looking posture collar. Then again, I chided myself with a touch of amusement, was there such a thing as a comfortable posture collar? Certainly, not this one, the way his chin was being cruelly forced so far up that I wondered if he could even see us. Maybe I decided, but only if he strained his eyes hard, peering downwards.

I was looking at his harness tack, which was incidentally a very eye-catching shade of shocking pink, even brighter than that worn by Candyfloss. Then again, this was visibly newer and pristine, whereas the old mare must have been wearing her faded kit for God knows how long! Maybe pink was the standard colour at Helga’s stables if she only went in for female animals.

All that same bright colour, knee hoof boots, armbinder, the over and under behind the back type, not the more severe reverse prayer that I’d have thought someone like Helga would have favoured. Then again, he was pretty new, and it took time for a pony’s arms to adapt to that horrible posture fully. The neck collar and bridle matched the rest, with the only exception being the stainless steel device retaining his cock. Impressive, I noted, despite being flaccid and under lock and key. I wondered where that had come from if the woman only stabled fillies and mares.

Under other circumstances, I would have found the sight of him being led by a young, stable girl a highly erotic spectacle. I’d often stopped to watch when I stayed at Mandy’s place or my own when I saw young Suzy leading one of the ponies. Beauty and the Beast, an attractive young girl and the helpless captive beast she was leading. I could trace that erotic thrill right back to that first evening when I’d accidentally stumbled across the hitherto unknown pony scene via the internet on my desktop PC.

Somehow, the relatively short, squat, rotund shape of poor Trudi didn’t quite fit my image of the erotic, and that I told myself very firmly, was being very unfair to the poor girl. Besides, she might have been a superb handler and trainer of two-legged equines, so who was I to pass such biased, bodily-focused judgment?

“A magnificent specimen, is he not?” Helga noted with an approving nod, snapping another curt command in German at her young employee, two of her fingers pointing downwards and wiggling. Trudi nodded and dragged the reluctant ponyboy back and forth in front of the admiring audience, and we did admire none more than Suzy, of course. Mandy nudged me and whispered with some amusement, “Look at the brat!”.

I did and promptly grinned, catching Sarah’s eye, who gave me a long, slow, knowing wink as the three of us looked fascinatedly towards our younger companion. Eyes like saucers would be the most appropriate if cliched, way to put it and not with fear or surprise. Well, maybe a mixture of surprise and anticipation in those sparkling, youthful eyes. That sense of anticipation was highlighted by a small pink tongue moistening lips around her partly open mouth, her blue eyes never leaving that figure being paraded up and down. If she’d been a cat, her tail would have been twitching, even swishing from side to side.

Talking of tails, I noticed….well, did he have a name, I wondered. Nobody had mentioned one that I could recollect. The ponyboy with neither name nor, I noticed, as yet, a tail protruding from his rectum. Well, that would soon change, and it would probably be within the hour if I knew Suzy. Tails and their attendant anal butt plug holders seemed to hold a fascination for her, particularly on males of the two-legged equine species. My Goldie and Penny’s Goofy could attest to that as no doubt could the cute young occupants of Mandy stable, although maybe given Bob’s predilections, their anal passages were no longer quite so sensitive to violent intrusions by large foreign bodies!

“It has been given no name yet”, Helga said, thus answering one question. “I acquired it…” she paused and shrugged. “Is not important now, I think. I have it is enough, and being male, it is of no use to me; I stable only female animals, and so is spare. A very good, healthy young animal, though, and valuable” She looked directly at Mandy, nodding to herself. “Much value, I think, as we discussed. I have had other, more recent, and very good offers, but….” She shrugged and then laughed, and for the first time, it was a laugh that seemed natural, neither feigned nor threatening. “Is only money, yes, and I gave my word and shake of the hand. Is more important, I think”.

“Plus, I sent the money early last week”, Mandy reminded her, “and your bank has accepted the transfer”.

Helga chuckled. “Ah, yes, that too, I think is important.”

“Very”, Mandy muttered under her breath as Helga motioned to Trudi, indicating she should cease walking or dragging her unwilling charge back and forth. The girl took a few more paces and stopped before us, shook the leather leash in her hand and snapped something in German at the pony on the other end. I noted that she had taken several turns of the leash around her wrist, the better to haul him along, for he didn’t appear to be the most enthusiastic of animals.

He was hardly cooperative, his hooves digging stubbornly into the dirt or trying to, for by the way he staggered about, it was evident that just staying on his feet was his first priority, not applying the brakes. Hoof boots are not the easiest form of footwear to walk in, and it took time to adapt to the horrible things. Even those fillies and mares who, in a previous existence, had been vain enough to torture their feet in high heels for the sake of fashion or to look sexy had problems initially.

I could vouch for their awkwardness, for curiosity had prompted me to carry out a couple of short, very short experiments by wearing the awkward things myself so I could fully understand that clumsiness and odd elevated, insecure feeling he was experiencing. I say horrible, and yes, from the unfortunate wearers' perspective, they were awful, but from the other side of the fence, they were absolute du rigueur. No two-legged equine looked the part without being appropriately shod, and not just for aesthetic reasons.

He was standing in the typical pony stance, legs slightly bent to accommodate the shift in balance required by the hoof pony boots, back arched from the tight armbinder, his head up from the high collar. Rump out and chest thrust out but lacking those prominent attributes that made the stance so much more delightful to the eye in female ponies.

During my ‘research’ period before becoming an owner, I'd been surprised by just how widely available such footwear was online. I use wide, you’ll understand in a somewhat loose sense, for obviously, you're not going to get a zillion hits from a Google search but I had been surprised. The German company Mandy was involved with had been one, and as they say, once I’d placed an order with them, the rest was history, as you may recall.

 All sorts of pony footwear were available, from cheap, flimsy ‘playwear’ stuff to the serious 24/7 special kit. Naturally, there weren’t many companies that specialised in that, as did Mandy’s German company: ankle, knee, and thigh in varying colours and fastenings from zip to full-on locking restraints. ‘More for bedroom bondage aficionados’, Mandy had told me, for why bother to complicate things when the arm binders on our ponies meant even the simplest of fastenings was beyond anything their useless hands could manage.

The boots were also an essential part of the dehumanising process that helped reinforce that abrupt change of lifestyle, almost a rebirth, as Sarah had once put it and laughed. ‘A very abrupt entry into a very different and cruel adult world without the long apprenticeship of infancy, childhood and teenage years to adjust. Adjustment aided by boots, denial of arms, hands and human speech and enforced by the cruellest treatment, appalling diet and horrendous living conditions.

Anyway, leaving all that aside, they did look sexy and, along with the armbinder and tight harness, forced the animals into that very defined pose and way of moving, which set them apart as the unique animals they now were as this…this, my thought process paused to consider, stallion or colt? It was young but visibly very well endowed. It had ceased to be human and joined the animal kingdom, as it would soon find out if it didn’t know already.

Of course, all of the above had shot through my mind faster than a high-speed express train flashing through a station. Not one of the famed Japanese bullet ones, for that, wouldn’t have allowed a single coherent thought to form, but the less impressive and not-so-fast UK ones. One second, it's hurtling towards you or seems to be, and the next, your heads swivelled around to watch the end car speeding off into the distance, gone! I’d have bet that the hapless figure in front of us also wished he was gone. A thought immediately reinforced as I continued looking him up and down.

 I noted that he’d stopped struggling and stomping his hooves and was now looking at us, his eyes wide and staring through the straps in his bridle, and I was experienced enough by now to be able to read a lot in those eyes. Anger was there, yes, but there was very little hate yet. That would come, and a sideways glance at young Suzy and the expression on her face confirmed who the chief recipient of such hate would be. That would come later, well, maybe not much later, knowing the girl, but for now, I would say that disbelief probably ranked highest of all the possible emotions. Disbelief, incredulity and total incomprehension!

“Australian, twenty years old and how you say in English, he has not been touched yet by the whip or anything. I kept him like that special till I could sell. There is a word, I think?” Helga looked quizzically at the four of us.

“Unsullied, maybe” Sarah offered. “It means clean, unblemished, not spoilt, pure even.”

Helga laughed. “Only up in here is touched so far, a little, I think.” She tapped her forehead. “Trudi has looked after him, and she very much wanted to give him the whip, but I say no, no whip, no cane, no nothing. Feed and water, harness tack, yes, let watch, yes, but whip, no”.

“Oh, thank you.“

We all turned towards Suzy and laughed while she blushed rather prettily, and then, being Suzy, the young girl shrugged and gave an evil grin before laughing aloud.

“What do you mean, watch?” I plucked up the courage to ask the big, rather fearsome-looking woman. I’ve probably used the ‘Russian shot putter’ term before, but if you can remember those steroid-built creatures from past Olympics, you’ll know what I mean. Only add another thirty, maybe even forty per cent, to the overall build, and you’ll see why I needed to pluck up a little courage. The German woman wasn’t someone I’d have approached lightly under most conceivable circumstances.

Helga stared at me for a moment, which was more than long enough to make me wish I’d kept my mouth shut, and then she laughed, a short and rather cruel-sounding bark of laughter. “Jah, yes, I make him watch. Watch many times. I get the three of them, him and his two sisters, they were how you say, the same, twin, yes, and so so…” she paused, seemingly searching for the right word in English and then shrugged. “Very pretty, very…..when the apple is ready on the tree or the peach? She looked at us questioningly, waving a finger around in circles as though to aid the thought process.

“Ripe, I think, is the term you’re looking for”, Mandy chuckled. “Eighteen years old, a pair of young, sweet and very desirable peaches. You showed me some photos, remember?”.

“Mmmmm, yes, so very ripe” Helga chuckled and tapped her groin with that same thick forefinger she’d been waving at us a moment ago. I spasmed in disgust as I noted her fingernail was bitten down to the quick, a habit I detested. I recalled that Mandy had the same aversion, and she’d once laughed about it as she showed me her stalled ponies. ‘This one used to bite her nails very badly, but I have a simple cure for such an unsightly habit’ The cure, of course, was the armbinder that bound the filly arms tightly behind her back. Had they grown back nicely and needed trimming during the set monthly grooming, I wondered and made a mental note to ask about it. No big deal, just idle curiosity.

“Very ripe and very, what you said, un, unsull…..ach, is no matter! Both virgins but no longer, not at front and not at where tail goes” Helga laughed, making an obscene gesture vertical gesture with that same chubby finger at her groin, then thrusting her hips back and forth. First me, then Trudi and my other girl, and then whip both before and after. Brother here, watch it all, always, eh? Sexy little sisters and no can stop!” the big woman finished with a malicious snigger.

“Really!” Mandy said, and I thought perhaps I detected a slightly disapproving note in her voice, then again, maybe not. After all, she was a woman who kept a whole stable full of helpless, tortured two-legged equine captives, kenneled several human canines, and, if what I’d been told was correct, also had a harem of young girls imprisoned in a private area of the house purely to satisfy her sadistic sapphic lusts. On that basis, I wouldn’t have thought anything the German woman might say would have unsettled her in any way.

Perhaps it was the ‘bestiality’ element she disapproved of, knowing she would never consider using one of her animals like that. I felt the same way as did Sally; likewise, Penny and Suzy, for it had been another aspect of pony ownership the four of us had discussed recently over an after-dinner glass or three! Strange how we seemed opposed to sexual liaisons with our ‘human equines, whereas ‘puppy doggies’ were quite another thing!

Even as she was sipping her chilled white wine, laying down the rules as it were,  the gorgeous Penny had hauled my little Fluffy over her lap to fondle. Quite another thing for between the fours of us, poor Fluffy must have almost worn her tongue out during that period. I’d wager that Sally wouldn't be lonely in bed given my absence for a couple of nights, and both Suzy and Penny owned male equivalents, didn’t they?

Odd was it not, that Mandy was that way when her husband was the exact opposite. Pulling carts and carriages under his whip was very much a secondary duty for them so far as Bob was concerned. I shrugged; it wasn’t important, and I could always ask her later. I shrugged again. Why bother, and if it had troubled my friend by some chance, why upset her further?

Suzy had been standing as though turned to stone and for once completely silenced as she continued to stare open-mouthed at the ponyboy until Mandy made an impatient sort of sound in her throat and strode forward and grabbed the girl by the forearm, propelling her forward towards Candyfloss’s replacement. Trudi glanced at her boss and then, as Helga gave a curt nod, handed the leash to Mandy.

“Here!” Mandy snapped, pressing the leash into her fixated young employee’s hand.

I can’t say I was surprised at her being so thoroughly mesmerised. I recalled my discovery of the exciting pony scene, which, in turn, had led to the realisation and discovery of my latent lesbianism. I sometimes thought back to that first picture that had flashed up on my monitor that evening. I hadn’t looked at it for ages, but it was still fixed so clearly in my mind more than any other image. In that early period of frenetic Googling, I found and downloaded many harnessed two-legged equine images, but I accidentally stumbled upon that first one while looking for something else. Pony Trekking holidays, as I recall. A random chance that triggered off all that had followed!

The memorable image depicted a near-naked young woman, nude, apart from her pony tack, her face contorted into a fearful grimace, her eyes flashing a mixture of fear, anger, apathy, and despair. A horse bit in her mouth, long naked legs in black knee hoof boots, bare breasts, thighs and flanks crisscrossed with numerous wicked red stripes. A wide leather belt encircled the young woman's waist, which was attached on each side to a pair of long wooden shafts leading back to a small two-wheeled buggy type of cart upon which two figures were seated.

Both were women lounging in cushioned comfort on their unusual conveyance—a complete contrast to the naked, sweaty figure in front of them. On the right, an older woman negligently held a long reins in her gloved right hand. The reins led forward to the bit in the harnessed girl's mouth. The woman was mature and formally dressed in a red riding coat, dressage style top hat, leather gloves, and beige jodhpurs tucked into gleaming black riding boots. Next to her, wearing a short summer dress, sat a smaller and much younger-looking girl with long blonde hair framing an innocent and somewhat angelic face. However, there was nothing innocent about the long, vicious whip she was wielding as she flicked it forward, clearly aiming to add yet another painful red stripe to the tormented girl between the shafts. Nor was there anything innocent in the way the older woman had her left arm right around her youthful companion, a leather-gloved hand visibly fondling the younger girl's left breast.

I couldn’t quite remember, but that rapt look on young Suzy’s face as she wordlessly accepted the leash reminded me of the expression on that young blonde in the artwork. Maybe I should have had it as a screen saver on my phone. I mean, it was or had been kind of like my entry ticket to this new and exciting world. I wouldn’t have been standing here if I hadn’t stumbled across that excellent piece of artwork, and I still knew nothing more about it or who the excellent artist was!

Nor was I the only one staring at my cute, sexy young house guest. The as-yet un-named ponyboy on the other end of the leash seemed equally fascinated, although I doubt he was viewing her like that young copper had done earlier in the day. Suzy, I knew, was bi and not averse to the occasional rumble with a suitable, well-endowed muscular hunk, but while no name fitted the bill, the chances of him having a rumble with her were zilch. Indeed, rumbling of any description was highly unlikely to feature overmuch for him, I suspected, if at all, in the years to come.

Mandy had sent copies of the photos she’d shown us that morning to Suzy, and if it were possible to wear a phone photo out, the girl must have come pretty near to it over the past couple of weeks, looking hungrily at those photos. Naturally, Penny continually teased her about it every time the girl picked up her phone. ‘Hunk time again for our little  hunnybunny!’

So much for the advice regarding cell phones! I’d suspected as much, which negated the advice I’d been given regarding taking pictures of my animals. Cell phones get lost or stolen frequently, and having potentially incriminating photos of captive two-legged equines and similar probably wasn’t a good idea. It was common sense, but it seemed that everybody did it, far too convenient. Although, I suppose no one would get over-excited at a few fetish pictures of a harnessed and unmarked ponyboy or girl. Maybe a few hundred showing their hides after an intensive training session would be different!

Naturally, the other three of us had decided that the gorgeous model was a wee bit jealous, a touch of the old green-eyed monster getting loose. Penny had an acquisitive eye for young, musclebound colts. Her Goofy was a pretty damn impressive example. Likewise, this one, while almost as muscular and equally well-endowed, was younger and decidedly cuter in a helpless, lost, puppy-dog way if that makes sense.

It was hard to say why, but even bridled and harnessed, something about him didn’t so much say as shout, cutie pie out loud that made him all the more appealing in the flesh. I’d kept half an eye on young Suzy while my thoughts were racing about elsewhere, and that old expression, ‘eyes like saucers’, would seem apt. I wasn’t the only one, for Sarah was grinning broadly, and Mandy winked at me before reaching out and tapping the seemingly mesmerised girl on one shoulder, making her start.

“Now, you’ve got that leash in your hand, young lady. Don’t you forget who the chief financial stakeholder in this venture is? You owe me, or rather Bob, three years of hard labour before it's fully yours. Well,” she extemporised, “three years of further employment anyway, and don’t get too enthusiastic with your whip. Your generous Uncle Bob has full visiting privileges, remember, so curb your enthusiasm and don’t tear his ass to shreds just yet!”.

Suzy turned her head and grinned at us, and it's probably as well she aimed it in our direction, for it was a rather evil grin that would undoubtedly have sent shivers down the spine of that poor creature on the other end of the leash in her hand.

Helga gave another short, harsh bark of laughter and gestured toward the duo. “Is all good, I think, yes? I make no charge for his boots and tack of course. My animals are all female, and I have only one colour but many variations. I find the colour enjoyable. Now, Trudi, we say goodbye and must haste to catch our ferry. You excuse please” She looked around. “I stop at the big  house and say goodbye to Sir Jeffery; come Trudi.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Sarah said, joining Trudi at the rear of the big vehicle and helping her lift the ramp and close the double doors. Helga watched for a moment, nodded, and then headed for the vehicle's cab with a parting nod towards us. Wrong side, I thought as she swung herself up and in, and then immediately chastised myself: continental, left-hand-drive, idiot!

“A little on the bright side for a young colt,” Mandy blinked exaggeratedly, looking at the animal's harness and tack. Despite being endowed with what looked to be stallion-sized equipment, he still was a colt in terms of age—an impressive one, though, looking at what was locked away in a stainless steel cage. I wondered where that had come from if Helga’s tack room only catered for fillies and mares.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Suzy had emerged from her trance, wrapping the leash around her wrist several times and pulling the hapless colt closer to her so she could pet and pat him. The girl was surprisingly gentle for once, I thought. Not that I expected it to last. Like watching a child reverently holding and touching its new toy through the cellophane outer packaging before ripping it off, the proverbial lull before the storm!

“I think it’s kinda cute; I also like pink and got used to Candyfloss wearing it. Besides, I don’t want Mr Handsome here getting too butch. That wouldn’t do at all, boy, would it,” she cooed at him. “I think it’s his colour, and anyway, like you said, I have to think of Uncle Bob, don’t I!”

“I don’t think it makes much difference to him,” Mandy chuckled at me. “Butch or femme, I mean, you’d hardly call Samson or Hercules effeminate, would you and he’s never spared them his rod of flesh when the mood takes him!”

I grunted my acknowledgement of that fact. There was nothing remotely effeminate about those two monsters, and then a question occurred to me. “Isn’t it a bit risky?”

“What, fucking Samson and….”

“No” I shook my head and pointed at the big camper van stroke horsebox. “I mean transporting them on the ferry,  cross channel in that thing. Don’t they have all sorts of checks, x-raying them or use that…that heat thingy, that device that can see body heat? I mean, isn’t it a bit risky, what with all the illegal immigration these days, people smugglers and the like?”

Mandy shrugged. “It’s certainly become much more inconvenient, but there always was a certain amount of risk. Previously, it was drugs, but now it's people smuggling, so most cross-channel movements are done by air these days. That’s how we brought in your Goldie and the rest. You just need to know the right people. Of course, on the other side of the channel, it’s as easy as pie to move animals around, country to country, with minimal border checks in the EU. Plus, for every major border crossing, you can guarantee there will be about two dozen unwatched minor ones.”

“Mmmmm”, I wasn’t convinced as I watched Sarah climb up on the vehicle's cab access steps to talk to Helga through the open driver's window as Trudi headed for the passenger side. “I don’t think I’d care to risk it.”

“Helga knows what she’s doing. That’s why she’ll have a couple of real horses in the back, plus all the appropriate paperwork. There is a narrow-sealed compartment that can contain several two-legged ponies between the people-living part and the horsey part. It’s shielded, some sort of metallic foil and other stuff that blocks out thermal imaging. It's very clever, plus,” Mandy paused and laughed. “Add in the low-tech bit. I doubt that Helga will have mucked out the real equines for a day or two, so anyone getting curious and peering in the rear compartment probably isn’t going to get overzealous once the smell hits them!”

Now that I could imagine, I’d gained experience transporting the human variety around in smaller equine trailers. With no control over their bowels thanks to their tail tubes,  the atmosphere in the box, even after a couple of hours, was decidedly unpleasant. Two days with the real things doing their business, and yes, I could envisage that stench! I'd imagine another advantage of having that secret sealed section between that stink and the living quarters. How well shielded were the unfortunate occupants of that compartment from the neighbouring stench, I wondered.

We stood for a moment, watching Helga’s van slowly move forward and then smoothly accelerate away as Sarah rejoined us, wiping her hands on a large white handkerchief and looking pleased with herself. “All done and dusted. Mission accomplished, or part one anyway,” Sarah said, looking at her oversized handkerchief, then promptly blew her nose with it before stuffing it back in her pocket.

“That fine-looking creature you’ve acquired might not know it, but this is one time I suspect when jumping out of the frying pan into the proverbial fire is beneficial. I doubt that your boy here will appreciate it, but if Helga had decided to keep him, I doubt he'd have lasted out the year. A very unpleasant year, and even if he did, I doubt his stallion parts would still be all present and correct. She’s got a pretty nasty reputation!”

Suzy looked around at us and giggled. “Now, don’t you go putting ideas in its head, Sarah. NO, now don’t start being silly, you stupid animal!” Suzy yanked hard on the leash and rapped the ponyboy on the nose with two fingers. “NO, no, behave yourself, or I’ll make that big ugly German bitch look like a fucking saint.”

 The latter part of her last sentence was addressed over one shoulder towards the three of us, but there was no doubt about who the real target of her words was. Suzy, I recalled, like most trainers, didn’t go big on ‘talking to livestock’ directly. The girl preferred other methods of implementing her will upon the hapless creatures.

“What are you going to call him….it? I asked, looking at the seething youth who I sensed was hovering on the verge of an eruption, an explosion of pent-up outrage and anger. It was not an unfamiliar nor unexpected reaction from a newly caught animal like him. How many times had my Beauty behaved similarly? Now, Goldie, my Russian stallion, seemed determined to express similar disapproval at every opportunity. Opportunity, of course, very much not knocking for him!

“Candi, with an eye, not a why!” The girl replied promptly.

Mandy, Sarah and I shared a quick, perplexed look, switched back to the hapless young colt, and then returned to Suzy! The same question presumably uppermost in all our minds and very much with a ‘why’. He was a decidedly masculine specimen of the breed, even more so than those youths Mandy’s husband favoured and not the least effeminate. Mandy opened her mouth, but the words never emerged, cut off by a loud cry from behind us.

“VIEW HALLOOOOOOO! Ho Mandy, Ho Sarah”.