Pony Renaissance

It was picnic time again, although in a very different location. Instead of a low hill, Sally had led me to a part of the estate less visited and away from the open areas of grassy meadows and scattered clumps of trees. ‘One of my favourite places, she’d said and then added with a laugh, ‘plus it will test your budding driving skills, yours and hers!’

The hers being my Beauty, the ponies sixth outing harnessed to a lightweight cart and beginning, reluctantly after a lot of physical encouragement, to adapt to the role of carriage pony. Ultimately I intended strapping a saddle to the beast and riding her like that, but as Sally and Sarah had said, ‘you’ve plenty of time, break her in like this at first. Let us find out how much stamina the animal has!’.

Testing was something of an understatement considering the last ten minutes and what was still to come.   That first outing with, what was the ponies name? Jessica! That had been a doddle despite my inexperience compared to this latest jaunt! No sooner was I feeling competent on my perch reins in one hand, whip in the other, exercising control over my beast when Sally, blast the little bitch, decided to bring me here.

Here being a steep and twisty downward track off the main path. Judging by the low branches and other heavy growth that impeded us, it evidently saw little regular use. Sally had her two giant ponies, Sampson and Hercules, harnessed to her cart, and I guessed the awkward descent was nothing new to them. Fortunately, the massive beasts served as useful trail breakers crushing and knocking aside much of the vegetation that might have impeded me.

Not all of it, for I was forced to rein back and slow Beauty as some of those slender whippy branches sprang back to catch her almost as effectively as my long carriage whip. Not just her either; I’d thought ducking a couple of times quickly. I’d have had to slow anyway because the wretched track twisted back and forth in a succession of tight turns as it descended. Nor could I rely on my pony, for this was the third outing I was running her in blinkers. 

Beauty, of course, wasn’t the least bit happy anyway, but I could tell from the way she moved and her reluctance that my big ponygirl was not in any way enjoying this particular outing either. Given that and her restrictive vision, I was forced to rely on my whip a lot more to provide the necessary motivation, and for one, I felt a twinge of guilt as I did so!

“Whoa girl, whoa!” I cautioned her as we approached a particularly sharp narrow turn with a vertical rock face on one side. Shit, I thought as I slowed Beauty to a crawl and carefully steered her around, trying to stay clear of the mossy edge. It was only about a ten-foot drop, hardly a mountain precipice, but I suspected at least one of us would take damage if we went over. Me, Beauty or the carriage and probably all three! Shit, and to think the little bitch in front had initially suggested an eye mask, running Beauty entirely blind for the first time to test her obedience to the reins, sheesh!

Beauty had been sweating at the top after a fast trot, but by the time the track levelled out, she’d had plenty of time to cool down and catch her breath, whereas I was the one doing the sweating. We’d finally descended into a small wooded valley with a fast running stream meandering through it. Sally was waiting for me a few yards further on and beckoned to follow her carriage.

“Not very much further.” She called, “We can stop for lunch at my fairy ring, c’mon” she flicked her long, lightweight whip stick twice, motivating each of her big beasts. They both jumped slightly and then lurched forward. I’d noted that Sally never used such painful devices lightly. Every blow she delivered was intended to hurt!

I took the more merciful option and merely shook the reins and called “Hup!” Beauty had earned that break by her careful decent in semi-blind obedience to the reins. Maybe I was overdoing my fears, but I thought, not by much, looking back up that steep snakelike trail. I fervently hoped that there was a low-level exit route for the return journey.

It was a hot day which in part had prompted the idea of a picnic. We’d started at a fast trot as well, which had soon produced a healthy sweat on our respective ponies. Beauty I was pleased to find had taken to the role as though born to it. Well, no, let me break that down a little for accuracy’s sake.

I mean that she pulled the lightweight two-wheeled cart well enough and even obeyed commands both verbal and via reins far better than I could have hoped for in such a short space of time. To say I was delighted would have been an understatement. Hell, if the animal had been a real pony, no doubt it would have basked in the praise it garnered from Sarah and the stable girls. Probably the opposite in her case, though.

Inexperienced as I was in carriage and cart driving, I realised that Beauty was nowhere near as smooth and impressive as a fully trained pony nor anything like as responsive and tended quite naturally to preempt and anticipate my commands far too often. That was why Sally had suggested running her blind for a few trips. I’d considered it but decided that I’d leave it for another time and take her for a spin unaccompanied. It would be less embarrassing if one or both of us fucked up!

Sarah had assured me that my ponies ungainly gait and slovenly body posture would change over time with the proper training and encouragement. Likewise, that silly tendency to think for herself rather than obey and respond blindly to rein and simple command. Indeed she had emphasised that the fewer commands, the better. Reins and whip should rule the creatures life when put to work!

Okay, I also knew that the restrained animal didn’t have a great deal of choice, well precisely none did it but once harnessed to the cart, Beauty had settled down somewhat and learned quickly to comply to the bite of the whip. Young Suzy had accompanied me on the first couple of outings and showed no tendency to spare the whip. Far from it!

Compared to the first few times getting Beauty attached to the cart earlier had been comparatively easy. Now, after five such outings, it must have become apparent even to her developing animal brain that struggling and kicking up a silly fuss was futile. All it achieved was to eat up valuable energy. Energy that would undoubtedly be needed over the next hours if she wanted to minimise the savage bite of my whip!    

It was an each way learning curve for both of us, except I held the reins and whip to exert my control, and Beauty learned to respond to them. I learned to use the reins and shake the controlling leather strips attached to her bit to change the pace from the trot to a canter. When to haul back, rein in and drop the pace back to a trot or a walk. Likewise, when and how to apply my whip from an overhead threatening but harmless crack in the air to a light stroke more to encourage than punish and a savage meaty stroke when necessary. 

My Beauty was learning fast, which was good but ironically a trifle disappointing as it reduced my opportunities to hear that satisfying sound of leather cracking upon helpless pony flesh and the immediately following muted squeal! Along, of course, with the desired instantaneous response from my beast. All ponies young Suzy told me obeyed the whip, yes some took a little longer than others, but in the end there was no escape. The whip hurt as intended, but both smart and marks tended to heal and fade relatively quickly, unlike a formal session with the stable cane!

That I could understand, for I’d used bamboo on Beauty numerous times during those first few weeks, and its bite had certainly cooled her early enthusiasm for foolish rebellion. Even now, her splendid rump jiggling so delightfully before my gaze still carried the marks of those sessions. 

I’d only witnessed one formal stable caning so far. Twenty four strokes delivered alternately by Sarah and Suzy to a very tall, slender pony called Willow. The girls told me that the animal was also comparatively new to stable life, having been there a mere three months, another one of Mandy’s private liveries belonging to one of those anonymous owners. Someone I would probably know by name and sight but who could not be mentioned, at least officially! ‘We have our own Voldermorts young  Suzy had grinned and dropped one eyelid in a mischievous wink, then mouthed a name at me. 

I was a touch surprised; I knew the profession was one many young girls aspired to and paid extremely well if you reached the top, albeit a short-lived career, often even shorter than top professional sportspeople. They obviously earned ridiculously high sums of money if someone of that age could afford to acquire and keep a pony stabled with Mandy. Especially a pony that drop-dead gorgeous, I thought as I watched the girls fasten the terrified struggling animal over a whipping frame, carefully positioning her so that they would have full access to her rump, thighs and almost boyish chest with the low swelling udders topped by long nipples. 

An idea came to me as I realised that I would not be the sole spectator. This disciplinary session was likely to be more formal than the normal instantaneous ones that were regular features of daily stable life for the captive ponies. All the girls were present, as was Sally plus Susan and her husband; both held a leash, and the two house slaves knelt at their feet.

A moment later, after a quick word with Sarah, Suzy and I led Beauty out of her stall, and I took a firm hold of her bridle and forced her to look at her struggling stablemate. No other pony was present, although some would be able to see what was happening over their stall doors. They would all hear, though, I realised as Sarah stripped off the frantic ponies body harness, bit, bridle and head harness. 

My but the girl, woman was a beautiful creature, and from the frantic tearful vocal noise, she was making evidently French which was the nationality of her young owner. I made a mental note to give young Suzy a touch of the third degree in private to satisfy my curiosity about what else she could tell me. I knew the stable girls were not supposed to know certain things, but as I’ve said before, none of them was the least bit stupid, and I’d have been prepared to wager my entire worldly assets, Beauty included, in young Suzy knowing the whole story!

Twenty-four strokes of thick yet supple bamboo delivered full-on by two healthy and fit stable girls is no joke, and even I was subconsciously wincing by the sixth stroke, and I wasn’t alone in that. Beauty was decidedly agitated, and I had to keep a firm hold of her bridle, even using both hands a couple of times as the merciless formal punishment continued. Nor I noted were they in any hurry to finish their task, more the opposite by the look of sadistic glee on young Suzy’s face. 

They took their time, each alternately adding a fresh bloody stripe to rump or thighs, allowing a  good minute or so between each blow, giving the beautiful animal plenty of time to savour the fiery agony and to anticipate the next. I wondered why they’d removed so much of the harness and tack, but maybe that was also physiological. 

A momentary reminder both to her and the audience that she was a very attractive woman and yet at the same time an unruly disobedient animal, and they would treat her like one. Or was it something to do with her owner, I wondered, watching Suzy leap forward and deliver the hardest stroke so far. Sarah had grumbled about that the other day to me, how some owners wanted things that were not in line with good animal husbandry, contrary to the way she ran the stable anyway! I made a mental note to ask about that later. Sarah might be reticent, but young Suzy, I knew, had something of a runaway tongue! 

Both Beauty and I jumped as the eleventh, by my count, stroke was descended upon that bloody rump, and the tortured scream it elicited was so loud and so agonised that we both reacted. No wonder the wretched creature promptly fainted. A moment of blissful oblivion before Sarah revived the comatose animal, and a moment later, Suzy delivered the final stroke of the first dozen with not the slightest hint of compassion on her fresh young, eager face.

Interesting, I thought as they both stood back to give the pony a break before commencing the second half of the punishment. I was impressed by how ruthless they were, for they could have given it that break when she fainted, but no, they were in charge, not the animal, and it would suffer to their formal procedure and no other! They stood a few feet away casually flexing their canes and idly chatting, Sarah I noted, occasionally glancing at her watch. There was no clock in the stable, for why did ponies need to know the time?

My upraised bent arm was beginning to ache, and Beauty was becoming troublesome plus I’d omitted to pick up a crop when I walked her from the stall. I delivered a stinging slap to her rump instead with my free hand and then, twisting her bridle, walked her back and secured her. I was considering whether to grab a crop and add a couple of stripes to her rump when I heard the swish and splat of the cane again followed immediately by another anguished scream, well, a mix of scream and animal-like howls!

Saved by the bell girl, well, the screams, I thought to myself as I returned to watch the girls finish the job. I was very much aware of my ‘novice’ status compared to all the other girls here, and I wasn’t about to let Beauty make a fool of me, no way! The fact that she was also a novice cut no ice with me, and if I had to reduce her rebellious rump to that same bloody pulp to present an accomplished front, I would do it without hesitation! 

Fortunately, so far, it hadn’t come to that as my mind returned to the present. I’d even been complimented the previous afternoon by Sarah on how swiftly Beauty was learning and adapting when she helped me unharness my pony from the cart and attach her to the ‘cooling-off walker’. I must admit to feeling a certain glow at such praise for Sarah was held in high esteem by all the other girls. 

Beauty, I noted, was far less happy with the encouragement and praise she received. Probably because Sarah, like all the stable girls, was also very free with her hands when rubbing down and patting my beast. Nor did Beauty appreciate her fifteen or so minutes of cooling off, a standard treatment for those ponies that returned to the stable in a sweaty, staggering, mud splashed, thoroughly blown condition.  

‘Otherwise technically known in the trade as fucking knackered!’ Young Suzy had told me with a mischievous grin after accompanying me on Beauties initial outing where her biting whip had put the animal through her paces!

Beauty, it seemed, hated the conclusion of our outings with a degree of intensity that transcended anything she’d shown to date. That was surprising since apart from getting a little damp and the usual humiliation of being helpless and handled, I could see no reason for such aggressive hostility. Hell, I’d have thought a minute under cane or whip would have been infinitely worse.

I mean, all it involved was being hitched by her bridle to a pony walker, then walking round and round in a circle for ten or fifteen minutes. At the same time, a sprinkler both cooled and either softened or removed excess mud and muck. Okay, so the water was only lukewarm, but on the plus side, it did contain a mild soapy disinfectant to soothe the inevitable welts and wheals produced by her driver’s whip. They weren’t even supervised other than the last couple of minutes when they were rinsed off under a fierce jet of cold water while being scrubbed via a long-handled brush.

Sarah had laughed at the reaction, pointing out that all animals were different in their own unique ways. Each might be kept and handled in common, but they all had individual personalities. Some ponies could take a harsh whipping with barely a squeak, whereas the mere sight of a bamboo cane reduced them to a gibbering wreck! It was a never-ending learning process for her. Having seen that session with the stable cane, I wasn’t the least bit surprised at that comment!

Sally’s fairy ring was a rough circle of prominent irregular shaped mossy weathered boulders that had presumably fallen from the nearby sheer rock face. The stream formed a large pool at this point shaded by a couple of willows before running off again, following alongside the barely discernable track. It was a good place to halt being pleasantly cool shaded both by the cliff and surrounding trees.

Some of those rocks were pretty damn big and had not reached their present positions by accident. I suspected Sally’s fairy ring had less to do with mythical fey folk and far more to do with a couple of sweaty two-legged beasts labouring under her whip to drag heavy boulders into position!

I steered Beauty alongside Samson and Hercules, who stood stock still while their sadistic little driver added a pair of hobbles to their ankles. I thought it was probably an unnecessary addition looking at the heavy leather harness plus the bolero style arm binders that held their massive arms behind their backs. Hobbled or not, they were unlikely to go anywhere as they were! 

The first time I’d seen them like that as she usually used a massive oxen like yoke to hold their head and arms while they laboured like beasts to pull both her cart and a plough. Without the heavy wooden yoke forcing them to bend forward, they looked a little less beast-like. I made a mental note to ask about that and how easy was it to transfer the pair from one arm binding to the other safely!

Sally grabbed another set of ankle hobbles from my cart and swiftly secured Beauty, in the same way, pausing to deliver a stinging slap to her whip marked bottom and snarling, “Closer together animal!” Then in a milder tone to me, “Be a dear and go get the basket and put it in the middle, we can set things out on that flat rock, well flattish. I forgot to tell Susan that I only needed enough for two, and judging by the weight; she’s packed enough for a stable staff outing!”

I grinned at her and heaved the wicker basked from the rear of her bigger cart. It wasn’t all that heavy but sizeable and would have stretched my diminutive companion’s arms a tad, perhaps. Sally joined me carrying a large tartan blanket which she spread next to the rock and knelt to undo the leather straps and start unpacking then remembered something.

“Oh, almost forgot, silly me! Would you like to water them for me while I get our lunch ready? I put some bottles in the back of my cart. Your reach is way better than mine. Could I ask you to grab a few and cool them off for me?”

“Of course” I smiled at her. “It’s something I should have thought about as well!”

“Thanks”, Sally returned to the basket. “It’s always best to get it done first off”, she called after me without turning around.

“Help them recover better, I suppose”.

From behind me came a burst of laughter. “Well, yes, I suppose there is that aspect, but I meant we should get the chore over before we eat, more convenient!”

I smiled to myself as I picked three battered plastic drink bottles, each capped with a short plastic tube from a wooden box fixed to the rear shelf of Sally’s cart. Watering the beasts was important but obviously by no means a priority. Doing so before we enjoyed our lunch was evidently more for our convenience than theirs. We could relax and take our time while our refreshed ponies could do what they spent their entire lives doing—waiting on their owners and betters!

I was more than a little apprehensive about the idea of approaching Sally’s two captive giants for the first time, harnessed, hobbled, and helpless they may have been. They were also bloody big muscled brutes with a look in their angry red-rimmed eyes that chilled me every time our eyes met. Well, yes, it sent a shiver down my spine, but only a part of that was fear. The other was one of pure sensual sadistic pleasure that such magnificent specimens could be held and controlled so easily by someone like me, or even more clit tinglingly, by such a perfect little doll as Sally! My tiny Davinia and her two gigantic Goliaths!

I had to stand on tiptoes to get the tubes into their mouths even though they both obediently lowered their heads so I could loosen their bits slightly without needing any command. Mush as they hated and loathed me and what I represented, they wanted that water even more! I stood there watering first one and then the other, closer than I’d ever been to the brutes. I could almost smell the anger and hatred radiating from them. Sheesh, just one hand around my neck, one quick squeeze, and that would be the end of me. Hell, just finger and thumb would have done for Sally!

I could see the attraction for my diminutive companion in having such total control of the beasts. Just standing there watering the massive yet helpless stinking creatures was a distinct thrill. Angry and hostile as they were, they were also desperate for that liquid I held in my hand, a hand that could deliver or deny purely upon a whim. A shout from Sally interrupted my meditation and mirrored my thoughts.

“Not too much; half a bottle is fine. I’ll give them another before we set off! I don’t want those fucking animals over pampered!”

Geez! Over pampered, I thought. Given the way they both looked, were kept and treated? Over pampered! I judged that Samson had probably consumed his share, well, his half bottle, although a fair portion had splattered down his chin and chest, that wasn’t unusual. However, what did make me giggle was the desperate way his head moved. The poor creature was vainly trying to hang on to that plastic tube desperately sucking to get every drop he could. I tightened his bit again and moved to around to his companion. Although I’d taken a bottle for each of them, I saw no need to change over, I still had a half-full one, and given the circumstances, the niceties of health and hygiene hardly applied.

They might make a splendid sight as a matched or near matched pair of working cart-horse type ponies but close up, they stank to high heaven! All ponies smelled to a certain extent after a time in captivity. Yes, they were groomed regularly, but washing was a balance between removing the daily accumulation of sweat, muck and shit and maintaining that distinctive odour of captive human equine. An odour I usually found distinctly pleasing.

Samson and Hercules took such to another level, albeit unwillingly. I could see or rather smell why the stable girls had a love-hate relationship with these two magnificently muscled animals. Sadistic pint-sized girls such as young Suzy must, like Sally, delight in the absolute control they could exercise; even her taller colleagues doubtlessly felt the same when they groomed the beasts. However, that thrill came with a price, for Bob and Sally insisted that their ‘primitive’ beasts lived out their miserable lives amid stink and squalor with the minimum of attention paid to bodily needs.

Every so often, the worst of the muck that caked legs and elsewhere, either from their strenuous outings in all weathers or stinking body waste, was hosed off. Beards and hair hacked and crudely trimmed but little more. Both animals were covered in a mass of matted body hair that had never felt the touch of a comb or brush. I was also slightly shocked when Sally casually mentioned that Judith, the vetinery student, had ensured there was no longer a need to trim the nails on hooves either.

It took a few seconds for me to realise what she meant, but Sally seeing the look on my face, quickly assured me that it had been done painlessly. ‘Well, relatively painlessly anyway, they weren’t Barbarians after all!’ The sexy little miss had exclaimed, ironically still holding a crop she’d just savagely used on Samson’s bleeding rump!

Beauty smelled far better when I moved on to water my prize animal. A healthy mix of sweaty warm femininity and that distinctive aroma of captive equine were altogether more welcome to the nostrils than that of her wretched rancid male counterparts. I did notice the look in her eyes wasn’t all that different, which didn’t bother me one iota. The longer the animal looked at me like that, the better so far as I was concerned. If I wanted love and affection from my pets, I’d get myself a dog indeed I already had in the shape of young Raven. All I required from Beauty and Fluffy was their very presence plus instant obedience to my every command and desire! 

“Goodness!” I remarked, returning to Sally and looking at the tempting spread of tasty treats she’d laid out.

Sally laughed. “Susan does not do small, ever! Well, not unless she’s feeding the animals! Mind you; nothing is ever wasted. Whatever is left from the house and stable apartment gets fed to our livestock, although perhaps not in its original form nor presented in such an appealing manner! Help yourself”

We both laughed and started heaping dainty sandwiches and tempting savouries onto our respective plates. I’d already noticed Sally might be tiny physically, but she had a very healthy appetite. Susan was undoubtedly an excellent cook, and combining that with her role of housekeeper must be an extremely busy woman, and I remarked on that fact.

Sally nodded, swallowed a mouthful of tuna and cucumber sandwich and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Ex Army, used to be a sergeant in the catering corps. Her husband was a corporal in the engineers. Not sure how Mandy came across them, but they both worship the ground she walks on. Well, you know what I mean, immensely loyal and all that stuff. They put in one hell of a shift every single day, at least Susan does and hardly ever take time off.

“Never?”

“Three weeks in the sun every summer somewhere exotic and a couple of days every six weeks or so. Susan likes to take in a couple of West End shows, musical ones preferably. God knows how many times she’s seen Les Miserables! Mandy teases her about it, but Susan says people listen to recordings time after time. No different other than being a heck of a lot more expensive! It’s her hubby we all feel sorry for. He’d far rather go to a football match!”

I smiled, then caught sight of the three ponies all standing so patiently, hardly moving other than the occasional shuffle of feet or hoofs rather. Once again, that sense of the surreal came to the fore. Them standing there, naked, whip marked, helpless while Sally and I picnicked and made small talk.

“Who stands in when Susan is away?” I asked.

Sally pulled a face. “Who do you think? Mandy, of course, but don’t worry, you are safe; she never invites anyone to stay during Susans annual break. Your welcome to come, of course, but don’t expect any five-star culinary delights! Mandy never even learned the basics as a girl, and her culinary expertise stems from her flat-sharing modelling days. Indian and Chinese takeaways, Pizza, fish and chips, plus a variety of supermarket ready meals! Bob and I tend to sneak over to the stable apartment after a few days and invite ourselves to a meal there! At least all the girls can boil an egg,” She finished with a chuckle.

“What about the two” I paused, not quite sure how to describe them. “Those two house slaves. Can’t they do something” I asked, recalling how Sally had described them.

Sally shrugged her shoulders dismissively. “Those lazy slags are alright for cleaning and menial tasks. I doubt that Mandy wants them to get too near a sharp knife or substances that might do more than add some unusual flavouring to the dish of the day! They’re not exactly fond of her, you know!”

“I can imagine!” I shook my head, thinking of my host’s unusual household. My eyes fell once on the ponies. Perhaps not that unusual, given her other interests and activities. 

*****

We didn’t exactly race back, and fortunately, Sally chose another route that followed alongside the stream so that my fears of tackling that perilous twisty path but now going upwards weren’t realised. I wish she’d told me that earlier, for that had been something of a hovering mental black cloud spoiling my lunch. 

As I said, it wasn’t a race, but she whipped her two truculent brutes into a canter, and despite their bulk, she set a spanking pace, no pun intended. Indeed, the way she used that whip, I’m sure a simple spanking would have been far more preferable to the big beasts! Nor I suspected that once she’d gotten them started, there would have been much need for all that additional ‘encouragement’. Those regular cruel cracks of leather upon pony hide were probably more for her amusement and to reinforce that complete control she exercised over the unfortunate pair.

Beauty did her best, and after I’d applied a fair amount of leather to her rump and thighs, common sense prevailed. Sally’s big pair was certainly not the swiftest duo in Mandy’s stable, but they were infinitely more practised and fitter than my struggling Beauty. Thus, I curbed my sadistic impulses and competitive instincts, settling for a rough ungainly trot from my pony. After all, she was still only a very young and inexperienced filly; time, patience and the whip would inevitably produce better results.

Sally didn’t rub my face in it, for she slowed her pair once she’d built up a lead, occasionally glancing back and waving her whip at me before using it once more upon those at the end of the reins. As we approached the big house, she slowed even more and skilfully manoeuvred alongside almost wheel to wheel. That made both of us nervous, Beauty and me, but Sally knew what she was doing!

She pointed with her whip and shouted across to me. “Look, the boss is back!” Then raised that long slender stick like whip and waved it to the distant group of figures gathered by the two vehicles parked near the stable door that faced the house. Two of them waved back, and even at a distance, I recognised the tall slim figure of Mandy and the shorter one of her husband, Bob. The latter made what looked like an enthusiastic punching gesture into the air above his head.

Sally gave a loud squeal of delight and flicked her whippy stick twice, making her two brutes leap forward at a fast canter and then into the gallop as that long slender stick like whip flicked side to side, savaging their bleeding rumps once more. I was about to follow suit, but then common sense kicked in. Beauty was already labouring, her breathing heavy and ragged, and there was no rhythm to her running, unlike a well-trained pony. She wasn’t exactly staggering with exhaustion like a spent marathon runner desperately trying to complete that final mile. Still, I realised that applying the whip and pushing her at this stage would not achieve anything. Besides, it would be highly embarrassing to me if the wretched animal suddenly collapsed at this point and in front of everybody! I decided to ignore that watching group and steered for my usual end of trip spot.

“I'll take her," Maddie shouted, running up a minute later and reaching out for Beauties bridle as I jumped down from the seat.

"Thank you, Maddie. I think she's pretty blown. This trip seems to have taken more out of her for some reason even though I didn't push her, at least not all that much".

"Steady girl", Maddie cautioned as Beauty started to show signs of becoming agitated. "Don't worry, that often happens, especially with the newer ones. Consistency and endurance take time. I'll give her an extra fifteen minutes of cooling off and then a good rub down; I'm sure that she'll appreciate that"

I watched her lead my wobbly-legged pony away and grinned. Another quarter of an hour would not be appreciated knowing how much my Beauty disliked the usual 'cool down’ period. Likewise, the extra intimate attention a rubbing down would involve. I knew by now just how much the girls loved to get 'hands on' with all the ponies, more so the newer, friskier ones!

My thoughts were interrupted as someone grabbed me from behind, hugged me, then spun me around and kissed me on the lips; it was Mandy, her eyes sparkling with glee. "I see your pony is coming on, Honey. She looks thoroughly at home behind that cart. If I didn't have so many of my own already, I'd be quite jealous. Indeed, I think I am anyway, just a little!"

"Hi Mandy, well I'm very grateful for all you've done, but you keep your greedy hands off her. As you said, you already have a whole damned stable full to keep you entertained, more than enough!"

I broke off as Bob came up and gave me the same greeting his wife had, although his peck in my cheek was a lot less passionate and far more respectful. "Don't worry; I won't let this avaricious bitch of mine  steal her off you, and anyway, that would be greedy considering what we have been away doing even by my wife's standards!"

I looked around, noticing that the three of us were alone apart from Sally's pair of muscled mute giants standing obediently where she'd parked them. Sally and the other girls had all vanished into the stable, but I could hear sounds of gleeful girlish merriment emerging from within. Bob grasped my elbow and gently pulled.

"Come along, time for that later. Let us go and have a coffee and see if Susans has been doing any baking. Christ, the food where we have been for most of the past week, diabolical, absolutely diabolical. It will be a month before my digestive system has recovered! Come on".

I allowed myself to be led over to the house between husband and wife. I glanced back once, noting that their big Range Rover had a large horsebox attached to it, likewise Sarah's car with the smaller one I'd used to bring Beauty over. Both had the ramps down and were empty. What had I just said, 'more than enough' and suddenly thinking back to Sally's recent whoop of delight, all Mandy's secrecy, all that building work Bob was paying for back at my little place in the country? Maybe it was high time I started putting some serious questions to Madam and her amiable hubby!

"Just out of curiosity," I asked, "Where exactly have you two been and why the rush. Something is going on, and my curiosity is approaching that stage whereby it's giving way to more than a touch of annoyance? Not that I am ungrateful for everything you and Mandy have done," I added quickly.

Bob chuckled and winked at me, looked to Mandy, who smiled and nodded. He released his gentle grip on my elbow and waved back towards the stable. "Russia," he said and added with a laugh, "but not from Russia with love. Far from it, in fact. Well, so far as some of the locals are concerned. Russia followed by a brief stopover in Germany and then a flight back to a small airport a few miles away. Actually, a relatively deserted old world war two bomber base, but one runway is still operational and used by a small flying and gliding club plus people like us occasionally.

Mandy giggled mischievously, and Bob retook my arm and steered me up the steps and into the big hall, "Jolly useful if you happen to know the right people, of course, and make the appropriate arrangements in various places". He'd laughed again. "Strange, now if it had been drugs, I expect it would have cost me ten times what it did. Yes, very strange how odd some peoples priorities can be", he mused with another chuckle.

He directed me towards the room Mandy and I had taken coffee in that first morning I’d visited, adding. "I'm not about to complain. In here I think, Mandy, my dear, do you want to go and chase up some suitable refreshments and then we can all have a nice little chat" He finished giving me that enigmatic  Cheshire cat-like grin again.