Chapter Seven
After a final glance behind her, Mandy re-joined me, carefully closing the gate of the stall occupied by the gorgeous glowing twin ponygirls, pausing for a moment to blow them a cheeky farewell kiss as she did so.
“Pretty special pair, eh? Now, let me show you something perhaps, even better. You’ll love this next duo,” Mandy whispered conspiratorially. “The latest additions to the stable bar, young Poppy.” She paused and looked at her wristwatch, pulling a sour face. “Bother, time is getting on, well a quick peek and maybe a squeeze or three of brand new pony flesh, and then we’ll whizz around all the others. I mean, you’ll be revisiting us soon, I expect. So there will be plenty of time for more leisurely formal introductions to them next time you come over.”
I nodded. “Okay, Ma’am, after all, I don’t suppose any of them will be going anywhere soon!”
My reply kinked her up for a second as she roared with laughter. “Anywhere soon!” she chuckled, walking a couple of paces backwards and beckoning to me with one crooked finger. “Now walk this way”.
“Okay, ma’am, if you say so”, I laughed and did as ordered, turning one hundred and eighty degrees and backing towards her till she slapped me on the bottom, giggling like a schoolgirl and told me to “stop messing about, silly girl!” Then turned toward the next stall.
“Well, now, my honoured guest. I saw that greedy, avaricious glint when you clapped eyes on my gorgeous prize-winning young twins, so now another treat awaits next door. The very opposite, you might say. Come hither and feast those envious eyes upon my newest acquisitions and latest project. Tra-la! Meet Mamma Thumper and her big baby girl, Bambi, my two beautiful *&^%$£’s!”
“Hell, Mandy”, I instantly ejaculated, somewhat taken aback. “You can’t say that word any more, not these days!” I looked first at the two beautiful ebony-skinned ponies she was theatrically pointing toward, then back to Mandy, who blinked vacantly at me in surprise for a long second, then promptly burst into peals of hysterical laughter.
I felt more than a little foolish as Mandy’s laughter rang around the stable, and I saw at least one stable girl's head poke out of a stall to see what had so amused her employer. Mandy, I’d noted when something tickled her, could certainly let rip with a vengeance! I felt like glancing upwards to check if the roof was still on.
“Forget I said anything,” I told her with an embarrassed smile, looking at the two helpless harnessed ponies. They had far more to be concerned about than offensive terminology! Bambi and Thumper, not their real names, surely remembering what she’d said earlier about not changing her ponies names?
“Political correctness!” Mandy was still chuckling with suppressed mirth. “PC here, in the pony stable, really? No, don’t look like that, Honey. My apologies; you are perfectly right. Of course, I’d never use that particular word in normal society, but” she gestured to the two ponies, “normal hardly applies here and certainly not for these two beauties.
My being non PC probably does not even register on the scale of horrible things that I have done to them and will continue to do!” She echoed my thoughts further by adding, “These two fine beasts I might add are also the exceptions to my naming policy. I didn't care for their given names; too fucking religious for my taste. I hadn’t decided on anything, but young Suzy had taken to so calling them when she fed the beasts, and it stuck!”
Glancing at the nearest and older of the two ponies, Thumper, I wondered how much of that was correct. What thoughts lay behind those glaring red-rimmed eyes. Judging by that look in the creature's eyes, her term had probably stung just as much as anything else. I’d seen rage and anger in the eyes of more than one captive pony by now, but nothing to match what smouldered in this handsome creature. This anger was on an altogether different level. I looked over at Mandy, noting her smug smile as she opened the stall, indicating that I should follow.
“I’ll confess that I’m a bit paranoid about the twins, who are allowed to handle and touch them on account of their super-sensitive skins. Another drawback to that treatment is how they bruise so damn easily if you squeeze anything a bit too hard. Fortunately, they can take the flat surface of a rubber slapper! You still have to be careful, not so much as little and often but rather a case of light and prolonged, very prolonged sometimes,” she laughed. “You begin to see why that chemical treatment scares the shit out of them! These two animals, though, can be handled with greater impunity!”
I nodded, but I was only half-listening, being more preoccupied with the latest pair she intended to show me—the mother-daughter combination she had mentioned back at my place. The latest unfortunates she’d acquired to dance under the promptings of her dressage whip. I hadn't had the chance to look around her large country mini-mansion, other than the entrance hall and one smallish reception room, so I’d no idea as to Mandy’s taste in décor, art and furniture. However, if it matched her eye for an impressive ‘show pony’, the interior must be worth viewing.
Mama was undoubtedly good for the eyes, being tall, heavier built than the previous twins, more statuesque with far bigger udders tipped by the sort of long nipples that made your fingers twitch! Broad-shouldered and hipped yet narrow-waisted, long-legged, but it was her hide that caught the eye, breath-taking. A lustrous black, the sort of jet black that is so dark and glossy, has an almost magical purple like darkish sheen.
West African, for sure, I thought, having spent time among the lighter-skinned tribes of East Africa during an assignment one lengthy summer uni break in Kenya and Tanzania. ‘Bad people, bad people, very black, bad Africans on the Western side, West Africans, very black, all thieves and cheats. Very bad people!’ I’d heard that mantra frequently and found it interesting that such racism and stereotyping wasn’t just confirmed to white people! No doubt those on the west were equally vocal about those living on the continent's eastern side of the continent!
“Not bad, is she?” Mandy asked, joining me. “Daughter of one tribal chief and first wife of another important tribal chief and very corrupt politician, would you believe. She represented her country as an Olympic gymnast when she was young, but she’s put a few pounds on since then. Still in superb shape though and plenty of miles left on her clock even though she’s produced this delectable young foal, or not so young now” Mandy waved towards the stalls other occupant.
One thing at a time, I thought, don’t rush me, woman. Mama was the nearest and the immediate focus of my attention. The harnessed woman secured part straddling a lowish bondage ‘sawhorse,’ the first one I’d ever seen outside of a photo or drawing. Her long legs bent at the knees; feet secured the rear posts. It was a hellishly wicked piece of bondage equipment with the unfortunate victim riding the device with her crotch tortured by the apex of the triangular crossbar.
“Such a convenient height,” Mandy said, reaching out her hand and stroking the woman's bald head. I just adore this sensation, and I’m so tempted to shave a couple of my other animals even though I love their beautiful manes. Decisions, decisions! Here, rub your hand over bald mama here, see what you think?”
Mandy was entirely right. There was something incredibly sensual about feeling that smooth, slightly undulating flesh under my palm. Grunts of indecipherable protest emerged from behind the ponies tightly bitted mouth, and her feeble attempts to move her head within the confines of a formidable posture collar only added to the pleasurable sensation I was enjoying. I raised my other hand, rubbing them both over the woman's lightly oiled shaven scalp.
“Why bald, humiliation?” I asked.
“Nope,” Mandy shook her head and switched her attention to the woman's crotch, where she straddled the apex of that beam. “Merely being practical, Honey. Both of these bitches must have spent a fortune on keeping their hair at least semi-straight. No doubt via public money stolen from the poor starving wretches, her husband and his cronies cheated left, right, and centre! I’d only had them a couple of days when it started reverting to type. Typical fucking Afro frizz! No way I was going to spend time and money upkeeping a lovely long flowing pony mane on these two creatures. No way, so all off was the easy option. I may even try some of that risky cream I mentioned a while back. Anyway, their bald look will give me another edge I expect once I have them performing in the show ring.
“How long will that be?” I asked, continuing to enjoy the erotic sensation under my hand. Should I do something similar to my Beauty? No, but still, something to keep in mind for the future, perhaps.
Mandy was probing with a gloved finger at the point where the woman's shaven crotch met the angled top of the wooden beam causing the pony to twitch and writhe while muted incomprehensible sounds of protest emerged from its bitted mouth. Mandy withdrew her finger, examined it, sniffed it and then wiped it on the ponies cheek.
“Depends, probably going to be a year, maybe more before I dare let them loose on the public, or I should add, public in a limited sense. Very limited,” she laughed. “I’ll invite you over for a private showing perhaps first, a trial run and get your opinion. Don’t expect it to come soon though, a year is probably being very optimistic, eh princess?” she patted the squirming furious woman on her bridled cheek and absently fondled one long purple-hued nipple. Then strayed down to make the pony wince as she rubbed the big rump crisscrossed with fresh weals from what had been a recent brutal caning.
Somewhat reluctantly, my palm relinquished its circular motion on that alluring glossy black scalp that trembled with impotent rage, and we moved over to the second, the younger pony. “How long will she be kept on that uncomfortable thing?” I gestured backwards.
“As long as I feel like it”, Mandy replied indifferently. “Bit of a comedown for that arrogant, egotistic dusky princess. We don’t provide first-class travel and five-star accommodations here nor offer abject grovelling deference to be taken for granted by such high and mighty grandee’s! Who and what she and her puffed-up conceited bitch of a daughter were before no longer counts, only what they are now and what they will become! The sooner they both realise that, the better for them. Just!” she finished with a cruel laugh.
“You expect it, though,” I remarked as Mandy grabbed the wide-eyed young filly firmly by the bridle and forced her away from the wall where she’d been cowering. “Abject grovelling deference, I mean?”
“Not really, Honey. I don’t give a fig as to whether they respect me or not. Why should I give a shit as to what these dumb animals think of me? I own them, and I will break them to my will, reduce them to the level of beasts and trained as such! What do you think of baby Bambi here, then?”
Baby, I thought was a trifle understated. The daughter was a beautiful young filly somewhere between middle and late teens, slimmer and shorter than her mother but with similar long, strong legs, curves and a sense of luscious ripeness and promise about her that caused a spontaneous anticipatory licking of the lips on my part. Now how would she look in a puppy suit at the end of my bed, I wondered? Imagine her tongue at work while her bobbing bald head provided such an extra sensation for my hands! Not that there was the slightest chance of me ever getting my greedy mitts on the bitch let alone using her as one!
“Not a matched pair in the conventional sense”, Mandy laughed, running both her hands over the squirming captive girl who I noted looked more frightened than enraged. Frightened and somewhat bewildered in a shocked, disbelieving way, that was kind of cute to see. Did she not fully realise what had happened to her, what was happening, what was going to happen to her and her mother?
“She’s a real beauty”, I said and added, “Wouldn’t care to toss a coin for her, would you?”
Mandy giggled and manoeuvred behind the pony, her hands reaching around to grasp those two youthful firm conical mounds both tipped with long nipples like her mother. “No way, money couldn’t buy these two animals even though I got them at a bargain price. This one is a real cutie, though, isn’t she? So responsive. Mama couldn’t have been much older when she dropped this foal!”
“Bargain, how?” I demanded, and even to my ears, I sounded both avariciously cranky and indignant at the same time. “Whoops! I put my hand to my lips.
Mangy giggled again and nuzzled the girl's right ear while making her squeal as her fingers squeezed those luscious, still developing girlish udders. “The pretty lady visitor sounds jealous; babykins, doesn’t she? Well, don’t fret, pony, I won’t be selling you so you can feel ever so safe in your nice stall here for many years to come and…AH YOU FILTHY BEAST!” she screamed, jumping back to avoid the stream of brown liquid excrement that suddenly gushed from beneath the ponies tail.
“Almost”, I observed.
Mandy glared at me as though about to say something but caught herself and decided to laugh instead. She glanced down at her feet. One boot hadn’t been quite as fast as the other in getting out of the way. “Occupational hazard, sweetie and it wouldn’t be the first time either. Maybe I’ll swat her mamma some more for it later,” she mused. “C’mon. A quick run around the rest, then lunch.”
I nodded, for I was feeling peckish. “Two questions, “ I said as we left the stall.
“Shoot!”
“ Why swat the mother? Besides, I thought you didn’t want them marked, and I’m curious as to where the hell you got them from unless that’s a major secret, of course?”
Mandy laughed. “Nope, that sounds like three questions. Remind me during lunch”.
*****
We were heading for the exit a little later, still discussing the entertaining if unsavoury subject of biological excretions by captive human equines, when Mandy thought of something else to show me.
“Talking of pony poop, this is our deluxe kitchen,” Mandy said abruptly, stopping by a side door. “Might as well have a quick peep, but I doubt that there is much danger of us ever being awarded five Michelin stars!”
“Or even one”, Judith muttered, looking up from where she stood, wielding an industrial-sized potato masher with great gusto. “When are we getting another big electric mixer? This bloody thing is ruining my caning arm!”
Mandy laughed. “Oh, don’t fret, girl. It's on order; I haven't forgotten, and anyway, I suspect that fine right arm or yours is in more danger from a serious case of overzealous ‘bamboo elbow’ rather than from mashing up animal chow! What's on tonight's menu?”
I looked around curiously, for feeding my two animals was still something of a trial and error experiment. It was something else I realised later that I’d omitted to ask more questions about due to the nature of my whirlwind tour of the facilities.
The room did give the impression of being something of a commercial kitchen, although I am no expert, never having worked in the catering sector. All the surfaces and the two oversized double drainer sinks were made from stainless steel. Likewise, some for the storage racks along one wall and I could see similar through the open door into a storeroom along with a variety of coloured plastic dustbins—none of them with matching lids I absently noted.
The kitchen somehow didn’t quite look right, and it took a few seconds to register why. It was utterly uncluttered, sparse, devoid of the many sorts of utensils one would have expected to see, no bottles or jars and racks of spices either and not a single pan or skillet of any description anywhere! In one corner stood a substantial double-door refrigerator, but I saw no freezer and, more surprisingly, as I looked back and forth, no cooker! The only evidence of heat was a small domestic microwave, the red tab on the hot water taps and a tall electric water urn.
“Yes?” Mandy queried. “You’ve got that puzzled expression on your face again, Honey?”
I gestured around me. “Very impressive, all the stainless steel, I mean. Very restaurantesque, but what do you cook all the food on or what in come to that. Is this just a prep room?”
“Restaurantesqe!” Judith giggled. “That’s a grand word for Milady’s greasy pony snack bar!”
Mandy grinned and pretended to punch her younger employee. “Shush and mush, girl. Shush yourself and mush your mix, and don’t be cheeky.” Then she turned back to me. “I suppose kitchen is a wee bit of an exaggeration since we don’t cook anything. There is a portable thingy with a couple of electric hot rings in the storeroom that gets used occasionally, but mostly the only hot addition is water via that urn. The steel stuff, best commercial quality, I might add, is purely for hygiene and ease of cleaning. I don’t want my valuable animals going down with a dose of, what's the veterinary term for a serious upset stomach? Oh, and please cast your professional eye over Bambi, would you? She’s squirting again!”
“Will do, and I think you mean Colic”, Judith told her, “Bit generic, but that’s the primary term. Babies can sometimes get it as well as horses—abdominal pain. I'm surprised we don't see more of it, especially with the new arrivals given the abrupt diet change, not that it's unhealthy!
Mandy beamed a big smile at me. “See what a considerate owner I am. What's on the ‘me ’n’ you’ for tonight then Jess. What delicacies await my lucky animals, other than tinned peas?
Her peas comment came about because of the two large commercial-sized tins that stood with their lids off courtesy of an industrial-sized can opener bolted to one end of the central steel table units. Empty, I saw as I lent forward to peak into the nearest other than a residue of green-tinged water. They stood next to a large chopping board decorated with a few remains of carrot ends and cabbage stalk.
“Waste not, want not. It all goes in!” Judith remarked, pausing her energetic pounding to dip a finger into the big container she had standing in one of the sink basins. She held it to her nose for a moment, sniffed, then tentatively licked before commenting. “Think I overdid the chilli sauce a bit, but it needs more water anyway. Still too thick for them to slurp up easily.”
“Chilli sauce?” I queried.
Judith shrugged. “Sarah gave it to me, found a couple of old bottles lurking at the back of a cupboard upstairs in our quarters, said we might as well get some use out of them as chuck em!”
“Probably a remnant from Magda’s time here; she was crazy for the stuff,” Mandy remarked. “Nice lass, big build, a real amazon but attractive. She loved cooking almost as much as wielding her whip. The poor girl missed city life, so I fixed her up with a friend of mine, a retired general, at his London residence.”
“Ponies, in London!” I exclaimed.
“Hardly”, Mandy laughed. “No, he has a private playroom in the basement of his townhouse complete with cages. His preferences are confined exclusively to several rubber-clad slim youths he keeps there. Magda cooks and keeps house for him and ensures that his reluctant ‘latex pets’ are fully obedient to his needs! He sings her praises every time I see him!”
“I remember her. She was fun,” Judith said, picking up a spoon. “Want a lick?”
“No, thank you”, My reply being prompt enough to produce instant laughter from both of them. “I did brave a look into the large container as she helpfully removed the masher to see the thick sludgy greeny brown liquid enlivened by the odd green pea and sliver of orange carrot. There were other lumps as well coated with the thick unappetising mixture so that I didn’t regret refusing that invitation for one second.
“Water, oat mix, fresh carrots, peas, chopped raw cabbage, muesli, household scraps, stale bread and a couple of tins of doggie chunks in gravy” Judith waved her implement first at the mixture and then over towards the table. “Whoops, sorry!”
I dodged the blob of brown goo that flew off the end of the masher, noticing at the same time the smaller tins of dog food hidden behind the bigger vegetable cans on the table as Judith continued.
“Couple of two-minute rice packets” she nodded at the microwave, salt, pepper, chilli sauce and a heap of crushed vitamin pills and a packet of tomato soup powder. Mash, stir, add more water, stir again and chill for an hour or two, then decant into galvanised buckets to carry around the stalls, and serve a dollop into their individual troughs!”
“Interesting recipe”, I observed. “Who decides what they eat?” I thought about that for a second, eyeing the container and added, “Assuming they do it eat it, of course!”
My remark produced another burst of tandem laughter from the two women. Mandy looked over at Judith, who replied. “No choice, Ma’am. None whatsoever,” she said, slowly emphasising each word. “We don’t stand around waiting upon their culinary whims and peccadillos. They get fifteen minutes to gulp it all down and then lick their little troughs clean. We expect to see our faces in the bottom of said containers gleaming surface when we collect them. Animals that foolishly spurn the food so kindly supplied quickly learn that ingratitude is neither permitted nor tolerated here!”
“The girls like to draw up their own ideas so far as feeding goes within fairly broad but, umm, let us say primitive or perhaps basic nutritional menu guidelines,” Mandy remarked.
Judith gave me a broad wink. “Or to put it another way, make it up as we go along!” she giggled and added with another wink. “We can be very inventive!”.
Mandy took me by the arm and steered me back into the main area, shrewdly remarking “that we’d better leave before she heard something she didn’t want to hear,” although, from the tone of her voice, she didn’t seem that bothered. I heard Judith giggle again and then the thumping sound of her big masher resuming work.
“Having the odd animal get a bad dose of Dehli Belly, Singapore shits or the Rangoon Runs as my grandfather would have put it is par for the course, but it rarely lasts more than one or two days and then often just the newer ones!”
I looked at her, noting the apparent lack of concern. “So, what do you do?”
Mandy shrugged dismissively. “They’re mostly all young and healthy. We keep them well hydrated whether they want to drink or not. Give them a day or so to empty their bellies, and by the time they get their next feed, they’re only too happy to eat. A hollow belly for a couple of days works wonders! Also, we make sure they get plenty of oats and other roughage in their subsequent feeds. Come on. Tum-tum time. Talking about food has made me realise how empty I am.”
*****
“You’re very lenient with them, you know,” Suzy observed, emerging from her reverie, nodding towards the two ponygirls moving at little more than a fast walk.
“Oh, I’m just savouring the moment; no need to rush”, I replied. “It's been a very enjoyable, not to say exciting first visit. You can run them on the way back”.
“Oh, they’ll run for me, alright”, Suzy replied, yawning and stretching.
“Does Sarah always, well, I saw her grab you earlier?”
Suzy threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, it happens all the time. The bitch is permanently randy; she’s groped more pony flesh than the rest of us have put together and rubbed herself off or fucked the ass off every pony in the stable. Those she’s allowed to anyway! Getting grabbed is what you might call an occupational hazard! Not that I mind, I’m bi but far more lez than straight.”
“Mandy told me that the ponies are virtually all celibate except on rare occasions”.
Suzy gave a mischievous giggle. “Yeah, well, I didn’t say the ponies got off, did I? I mean, what's a Randy gal to do if she gets herself all het up flogging one of these animals. You can rub a hungry clitty hard against a freshly bruised pony rump, free a captive tongue from its bit or use something a little more sophisticated. I have a nice, not so little toy that makes my pleasure bud explode with pleasure while the other end of it ploughs tight, squirming ponygirl ass!”
I looked at her.” And the ponies?”
“Mostly a complete no-no. Never for the pretty ponyboys or those two big ugly buggers Sally plays with, nor the privately-owned animals. Mandy occasionally, and I mean occasionally, rewards hers if they do something super special. If her racers win an important race or her show ponies get a decent dressage medal. Otherwise, the stable is an orgasm free zone as far as the animals go! Backdoor only for toys, never through the front!”
We rounded some woodland, and I saw my small car in the distance. “Whoa, walk easy”, I shouted, hauling back on the reins bringing them to a slow walk. I was tempted to use the whip again but decided to spare them. Besides, the whip was to motivate, encourage, and get more out of them so hardly relevant other than to appease my sadistic whim! I turned back to Suzy.
“First came when I was sixteen,” she said, then laughed at the astonished look on my face. “You were going to ask me how I came to be working here, weren’t you?”
I nodded. “Very perceptive, I suppose you get asked that a lot”, I added after a moment of thought.
She shook her head. “Not really. We don’t get too many guests, ones we don’t know anyway, but yes, they always ask. “In my case, my aunt Trisha brought me here as a birthday present on my sixteenth. She was the oldest and the wildest. My mum and the younger sister are both very quiet, boring, conventional prudish types. Aunty Trisha is a million times the absolute opposite; she ran away from boarding school at fifteen, sampled just about every kind of wild exotic pleasure there is for fun or profit, frequently both! Married three times, seen it, done it, screwed it or sucked it! Somehow she knew that I was chock-a-block full of her genes. Her third hubby is mega loaded and indulges her every whim and introduced her to a whole new range of exotic pleasures!”
“I can imagine.”
“Yup, she knew how I’d react. We came up and stayed with Mandy at the big house for a couple of days. It was such fun. Aunty T has her own pony girl stabled here, Candyfloss, a big mare with a pink mane, getting a bit long in the tooth now. You must have seen her?”
I had seen her. I could hardly have missed her during my tour of the stalls. Mostly that dyed shocking pink high cut ponytail and her apparent age plus the mass of scars covering the exposed portions of her body plus the impossible wasp-like waist her corset enforced. I nodded, adding, “Yup, she stood out from the herd!”
Suzy laughed. “Aunty hasn’t been over for a while; she and hubby live in Mexico. He’s a bigwig in a highly profitable export business if you know what I mean. Local produce and all that! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more! They have set up a similar establishment over there. Much easier, of course, in a culture where greasing official palms and turning blind eyes is a norm. She’s dead keen for me to go over and work there. Maybe I will but just for a visit, I kind of like it here and learning Spanish would be such a bore. Anyway, old Candyfloss is basically mine now to use as I please!”
“Well, she certainly looks well used!”
Suzy laughed delightedly. “She sure is. Second oldest pony in the stable, but there's no way I’m putting her out to pasture. The silly mare was an old flame of Auntie T’s hubby and tried to entice him back into her bed some years ago, stupid bitch! Aunty left her marks on the creature and now me. No silly frustrating restraining orders from the big house on that creature. That animal is all mine!
“Do you all you girls have your own ponies?”
“Nah, only me by default and Sarah. We all have our favourites through” Suzy paused and sighed deeply. “What I want is a ponyboy. Not some big ugly bastard like those brutes Sally flogs the shit out of, but a cute sexy beast big enough actually to ride. Imagine how cool that would be,” she finished wistfully.
We were approaching my car, so I hauled hard on the right rein and flicked out with my whip forcing the cart to turn on to the grass, and I kept it slowly turning, much to Suzy’s surprise.
“Whatever are you doing?” She exclaimed in surprise.
I grinned. “Circling the wagons, what else. I am enjoying our little chat and have a couple more questions while I’ve got you captive! My heads still spinning, Mandy whisked me round so damn fast and then we were out for a ride and late lunch”.
“Yeah, she can be like that. She sometimes comes hurtling over to the stable full pelt and delivers a string of orders so fast that we can’t keep up, and then when we ask for a repeat, she can’t remember half of what she just said,” Suzy chortled. “How did you find Jessica, by the way? I was otherwise occupied when you came back, and no, don’t ask what with!”
I laughed; I could guess at the nature of the ‘occupation’ and thought back a couple of hours. Mandy had led me back outside the stable towards the two lightweight single-seat carts that awaited us. A smart looking wicker picnic hamper strapped to the rear of one of them. Judith held the bridle of the nearest harnessed pony, a medium-sized but muscular looking sturdy blonde animal with large silver rings dangling from her pierced nose and nipples.
“Alice”, Mandy had waved at the pony, “not the best-looking animal in the stable by a long way nor the swiftest. Young though with Stamina to spare. Not one of mine, I don’t go in for these adornments” she’d flicked one of the heavy looking nipple rings. “ Her owner is away filming for two months in the Bahamas playing the leading lady in a kids comedy pirate movie, so it's time this animal got some healthy exercise. You’ve got Jessica over there with Suzy. I have a chilled bottle in the basket, so let us mount up, and wagon roll before it warms up too much!”
Mandy had grinned and swung herself up onto the single seat of her cart, nodded to Judith, who released the ponies bridle, then picked up the reins and whip and looked expectantly back to me as I stood wavering looking alternately from her to the other cart. Did the damn woman honestly think that ten minutes or less bouncing about as a passenger on her carriage qualified me as a pony driver? I swallowed hard and headed for the patiently waiting Suzy. A part of me was eager to grab that whip and take up those reins, whereas another part was terrified of making a complete fool of myself.
Fortunately, young Suzy seemed to sense my predicament as she beckoned me over. “First time?” she whispered. I nodded and was rewarded with a sly wink after she’d cast a quick surreptitious sideways glance at her boss. “‘No problem, Ma’am. Just tell it to walk on and shake the reins to get her moving. Hup, hup, and another shake to speed up. Whoa, and haul back to slow down. Pull left and right to steer—nothing to it. Use the whip good and hard to motivate the animal!”
I must have looked a little dubious as I climbed cautiously onto the seat and took the reins and the long carriage whip she handed me. “She’s well trained, of course, but remember you are the one with the reins and the whip, the one in charge. Animals obey; they don’t think, not ever!” Suzy took a pace back, releasing her hold and gestured to Jessica’s rump. “I gave her a couple of mild swats with the stable cane as a reminder that no silly behaviour will be tolerated. I shall expect a positive report from you, Ma’am, on your return, anything less, and she gets two dozen, extra hard and not all on her fat rump!”
That subliminal technique again, I realised despite her words about ‘not thinking’. The little speech was for the ponies benefit as much as mine. Animalised as she was, the creature still had a brain even if it wasn’t allowed to function as one. The message from Suzy was a simple one, I thought, glancing at Jessica. I saw the two fresh, raised, livid weals on her right buttock cheek from those ‘mild’ swats, both already oozing thin tendrils of blood. Twenty-four hard? My confidence surged, and I shook the reins with a shout of ‘Hup hup’ and added a fresh welt with my whip across directly across those other two marks. My whip my authority and ultimately my report as to whether or not this pony suffered agonies later at young Suzy's hands.
*****
“Gone, bloody nuisance”, Mandy had growled about half an hour later, scowling alternatively up at the sky and then at her cell phone. “Traffic light system”, she added somewhat enigmatically. “Normally, we give our guests a little hand-held device to clip on the cart rail, or they can use an adapted app on their phones”.
I must have looked very blank, for I had not the faintest idea as to what she was talking about. We’d been trotting around her vast estate side by side as I familiarised myself with the exciting art of ponygirl driving and loving every minute of it. Jessica responded to the reins and whip so beautifully and so obediently. Meanwhile, Mandy almost killing herself laughing at my experimental, stop, start, speed up, slow down antics, and a somewhat over-ambitious and disastrous attempt at a ‘three-point turn’.
It had been a glorious ride, though, blue sky, sun shining, pleasant, lush green surroundings, hooves pounding on the tarmac or scrunching along gravelled areas. Sadly, the birds weren’t singing, but Jessica and Alice were making up for that in muted squeaks as our whips frequently caressed their tender hides. Then suddenly, Mandy had shouted, ‘Follow me, quick, quick!’ abruptly turning her cart towards a small copse of trees and disappeared through a narrow gap. I followed and pulled up beside her and wondered why we were sitting there. Resting the ponies perhaps, but neither looked blown, although they were both panting quite hard. Why the urgency?
Mandy had laughed at my evident mystified expression and held up her phone. “Traffic light, see, green now so good to go”. Then laughed again as clearly I had not the slightest idea of what she was babbling on about. She took pity on me and explained. “Eyes in the sky, Honey! The perimeter security is damn near watertight, and so it should be, cost a bloody fortune. Yet any Tom, Dick or Harry can fly low overhead and eyeball what I’m doing. Imagine being in one of the open areas flogging a stubborn pony when some low flying media helicopter happened to pass over. Bound to be the wrong people on board, of course, eyeballs attached to those inquisitive media scumbags! Imagine, sheesh. Big time fuck up!”
“You’ve got your own radar system!” was all I could think of to say, which sent promptly sent her into another frenzy of mirth.
“Yeah, complete with guided missile defence system”, she chuckled, then became suitably contrite as she caught my Queen Victora; we are not amused expression. “Sorry, Honey. No, nothing so sophisticated. Just a simple app. Designed, I believe, for aeroplane buffs, you know the ones that like to hang around airports, and similar watching planes take off and land. A clever app that links into some device planes carry that lets air traffic control see them on a map or something like that.”
“They call them transponders, I believe”, I had replied, taking a little of the wind out of her too smug sails, I thought, then grinned at her. “Read about them on the back of a postcard!”. Mandy promptly stuck her tongue out at me.
“No airport within miles”, She had continued as we emerged from the trees. “There's a farmer down yonder with his own damn helicopter; god, I hate those fucking things! Fortunately, he almost always heads off the other way, so we don’t get much in the way of overhead traffic. Maybe a few airliners, but they aren't going to see much from thirty-odd thousand feet. The app works like a traffic light, as I said. Green means okay, which is ninety-nine point nine per cent of the time, amber and a warning note means some annoying bugger is flying low in the area and red means….”
“Shout incoming and dive into the nearest bunker or head for them there hills!” I’d interrupted only to be rewarded by having that tongue stuck out again in my direction.
“AS I was saying before someone interrupted, we ask guests to take note of the amber, and if it should change to red, steer into the trees out of obvious sight. There are woods and patches of trees or bushes all over, so it's no problem. Just a simple security precaution, Honey. Spending the next thousand years locked up with the key thrown away has no appeal whatsoever! Now let's see you use that whip. I’ll race you to the top of the little hill over there. On three, THREE!”
Damn cheat! I had trailed her almost all the way, but frantic use of the whip provided enough motivation so that Jessica had edged marginally ahead as Mandy called a halt and shouted that she’d won. My reply had been somewhat impolite as I reminded her that she’d said the top of the little hill. Hillock, I suppose. The brow covered with a mass of prickly looking bushes and a few trees, but I was nearer than she was, so there!
Mandy had cheerfully acknowledged my point and told me to wait for the run back. “Game and set, Honey, but not match!” We’ll really race then! If I’d harboured any doubts about my ponies ability to understand, then the shudders that reached my hands via the reins at Mandy shout confirmed that it retained complete understanding of anything said. Jessica definitely did not want to race back! Not if it meant feeling my eager whip again.
Mandy promptly busied herself with the picnic hamper but paused to toss a couple of plastic water bottles over to me. “Be a dear and walk them over to the trees and hitch them to a branch. Just loosen their bits a trifle, then you can get the top into their mouths, don't try and give it to them in one go; otherwise, they are liable to choke! Little and often, but make sure they drink the whole bottle! Keep them hydrated, and what they don’t need, they can piss where they stand or on the run home”.
I grasped Alice’s bridle and walked her over to Jessica then, mindful of potential swarms of hostile hovering helicopters loaded with malicious media types, walked the pair of them into the undergrowth and secured their reins to a convenient, low branch. I was careful to avoid the sharp thorns on the bushes, the ponies being less lucky. Then again, they didn’t have clothes to worry about, did they and anyway, undoubtedly, their hides had become used to such minor discomforts. What was the odd thorn prick compared to the bite of whip or cane!
They were both grateful for the water, initially gulping it down, then less enthusiastic. A couple of firm rump slaps showed that there was a limit to my patience. They either drained the bottles as required, or they’d feel something a damn sight worse than my palm, ungrateful beasts! That latter thought stuck in my head for a moment. I realised that already in my mind, the difference between human and animal was automatically blurring. Already I expected them to be grateful for such simple acts of ‘kindness’ without even thinking about it.
It was something of a surreal scene. Mandy behind me hovering over the red and white chequered cloth she’d spread on the grass, enthusiastically unpacking her picnic hamper. Her long nimble fingers were unbuckling straps retaining white plates, cutlery and wine glasses. Dainty crustless sandwiches, small sausage rolls and other tempting savouries and assorted nibbles joining cakes and packets of potato crisps. A charming summer scene, stage right as it were anyway!
Meanwhile, stage left stood two sweaty harnessed ponygirls, naked heaving bosoms and corseted bellies streaked with spilt water dripping down upon thighs and boots. Thighs, bottom cheeks and breasts displaying numerous livid whip welts. A stark contrast making me wonder how those two helpless creatures would be feeling? Standing there virtually immobile bar the shuffling of the heavy hoof boots and tethered like any docile tamed animal by a simple leash to a tree branch. Thin rivulets of fresh blood mingling with the sweat on their bodies testimony to the flogging we’d subjected them to, particularly during the final stage of our little race.
Curiosity prompted me to grab Alice by the bridle and forced her to look at me. Our eyes met but only for the briefest of moments before she looked away. I read nothing but apathy and fear in those sad brown eyes and dropped my gaze to her faded, worn harness and whip scarred flesh. How long I wondered and to whom did she belong. Who had she been once upon a time? Who had added those heavy silver rings to her body?
Jessica responded differently as I twisted the bridle straps and turned her head. I’d seen that photo, knew her background and for how long she’d been kept stalled and treated like a beast. She, too, looked away but had held my eyes for far longer. Contempt, contempt and anger were the two things that chiefly registered. Fear yes, and perhaps also a touch of apathy but only a hint. Mandy was correct in her assessment; Jessica was a pony who still had some fire left in her belly!
A flash of irritation made me use both hands, and I wrenched her head round and up once more, forcing her to look at me. How dare she avert her eyes when I wanted to capture them with mine. Did the animal think those eyes were free to do as they pleased when every other aspect of her captive life was controlled? For now, for this unique moment, she belonged to me and me only, and to me, she would answer for her foolish impertinence.
Holding her gaze, I dropped one hand to fondle a whip scarred udder. Her head immediately tried to move again, but my grip was too firm, and as her eyes strayed, my hand twisted the bridle further till our eyes locked once more. All the while, my other hand continued to squeeze possessively and knead that soft sweaty whip scarred captive animal breast. I must have done something similar with my Beauty a hundred times already, yet I relished this experience as much as any of them.
How the pony must hate this, hate me and yet be so utterly helpless to prevent me doing just as I wished. All those long years of helpless captivity behind her and nothing but the same stretching out endlessly before the beast, or worse perhaps? How much of this miserable creature was still a woman and how much pure mindless animal now, I wondered, smiling maliciously into those angry hate-filled eyes till they broke contact again.
I’d released the bridle with a cruel laugh and slapped her right udder hard, making her squeal. Power, I'd thought with sadistic relish. Enjoy your brief break, pony, while you can, you stupid dumb, helpless animal. Hate me by all means, but you’ll hate my whip even more before long, and if we race back, I will flog you raw. I gave her a final condescending pat on the head, collected the empty bottles and rejoined Mandy, who thrust a glass of sparkling wine into my hand, mumbling something incoherent through a mouthful of half-chewed sausage roll.
“You were going to answer my questions”, I reminded her. “I saw Thumpers backside, and no rubber slapper did that!”
“Ah yes,” Mandy swallowed and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “That dark pony’s hide won’t show the damage, unlike my two Nordic beauties. I had to be careful with them from day one. A few savage dustings at this stage won’t hurt….” She broke off, and we both laughed. “Well, you know what I mean. I’ll be careful not to leave any lasting reminders of her initial obedience training. Plenty of time for the slapper later for both of them once we are through the initial period.” She paused. “Go on, help yourself there plenty to eat”.
I nodded and filled my plate while Mandy demolished a couple of dainty sandwiches before continuing. “I’m using the same technique I used on the twins to break them in. That’s what I meant by giving mamma a few more strokes of the cane. ‘Swapsies’, that’s what the girls call it. One animal misbehaves, then the other gets punished and vice-versa. Bambi wants to shit on my boot, okay, but then Thumper will get the cane.” She paused to laugh. “You can tell from young Bambi’s relatively unsullied rump that her mother caught on pretty damn quick! She looks like she's ready to go nuclear at any moment, temper wise, but she’s already toeing the line way better than I expected. Maybe you will get to see them perform early after all!”
“Such a contrast”, I mused, reaching for a handful of potato crisps. “Between the two sets, I mean. I’ve never seen dressage, not as you do it with your ponies, so I’d love to see a performance.”
Mandy stuck her tongue out at me again. “Well, yah boo sucks to you, Honey. I told you that you should come for a few days, and then you could have done. Next time you must and bring your animals with you and stay for a few days or longer. I’ll lend you a box for the pony or come over myself if needs be. Hey, now there's a thought!” she held up a hand, looking at me.
“Yes?”
Mandy picked up a sandwich, took a bite chewed her eyes, never leaving me, but I could see her mind was elsewhere then she smiled. “How about a double act sometime. Wow, what a sight that would be, what a contrast black and white, two pairs, two trainers, now that would be something!”
I grinned. “Okay, okay, I promise to come for an extended stay. Young Bambi fascinates me, so what’s her story, hers and her mothers?”
Mandy smiled. “Mamma just got too big for her boots and upset wifey number two who happened to be much younger and had just produced a whelp of her own, a boy! Different culture and pappa who’s twice her age, by the way, was delighted and growing somewhat disenchanted with poor old Thumper. Not that she’s that old, but was becoming way too expensive to run. Probably had a habit of keeping her legs crossed as well, at least with him!”
“The tight-fisted bastard decided that a couple of years in an expensive Swiss finishing school was a step too far and had never got on very well with his daughter! Little bitch treated everyone like dirt, apparently especially wifey number two. Bad mistake!”
Mandy took a sip of wine, followed by a couple of bigger mouthfuls. “Anyway, long story short, wifey two wanted to be numero uno and took steps to achieve that ambition while my two ponies to be were on a Parisian spending spree. No idea as to all the intrigue and technicalities, but suddenly, I received an invitation from a very trusted source to inspect some new livestock that urgently needed rehoming” Mandy paused to drain her glass and grinned. “Well, I’m a sucker when it comes to homeless animals”, she laughed, topped up my glass and filled her own, then raised it in a toast. “To your next pony”, she laughed. “one is never enough!”.
*****
My mind returned to the present as I realised we couldn’t continue going around in circles forever. Suzy was grinning broadly, making no pretence of being anything other than highly amused by my antics. I gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, wool-gathering. Better return to the straight and narrow. It doesn’t look like the Indians are going to attack after all. Native Americans, I should say,” I quickly corrected myself only to be rewarded by a blank bewildered look from my young companion.
“Different generation”, I laughingly told Suzy. “I was raised on a television and video diet of old Hollywood westerns; my father loved cowboy films. Tell him about a good film you’d seen, and invariably his first mischievous response would be, any Indians in it?” I laughed again, partly at the recollection and also at the blank, uncomprehending expression on her face. “Forget it, Suzy; we’ve arrived anyway!” I added, shouting “Whoa” and hauling on the reins as we came to a halt on that gravelled patch.
Suzy hopped out and applied a brake that I hadn’t even noticed. Then stooping, she produced a pair of hobbles and quickly fastened them around the ankles of both ponies. She looked up at me, saying, “I’ll accompany you down to the gates if I may. Customary routine, although certainly not necessary in your case, but the Boss is a sticker for routine”.
“Anyway,” She added, joining me in the car. “I’m not taking any chances, not now the staff stall is empty again with Sandra back in circulation. Not taking any chances till she’s forgotten a few things!”
“Revenge” I laughed
“Oh, she’s a pussy cat. I’ll be especially nice to her for a few nights. It doesn’t take much to keep Sandy happy, a few good tongue sessions, let her do a little light smacking on my botty a couple of times, and she will soon forget those times I had with her in the staff stall. Anyway, I was only obeying orders, wasn’t I?
I laughed as the big wrought iron gates came in sight and added. “I think that excuse fell out of favour seventy-odd years ago, kiddo!”
Another remark doomed to fall upon stony ground judging by the puzzled look on her face as she reached over and tapped the horn button twice and then impatiently twice more when nothing happened.
The door of the old gatekeeper's lodge flew open, and Maddy appeared frantically, tucking her shirt into her jeans and then pulling on her fly while waving a hand in our direction. I promptly let out a bellow of laughter and at my companion as the gates opened. “ Déjà Vu! I'd avoid that curry place in future if I were you,” I advised with a chuckle and a nod in the direction of the still dishevelled gatekeeper, only to receive yet another bewildered look from young Suzy as she climbed out of the passenger door.
“Hey”, I shouted after her as a thought occurred to me. “Tell Mandy that if she takes her twin contrast idea all the way, she can be the one who has to black up!”
I raised my hand in farewell, giggling at that last look on the girls face as I drove off and caught sight of them in the rear-view mirror standing side by side and waving back. No doubt young Suzy was telling her friend that I was quite nice, but she hadn’t a clue what I was talking about half the time. I grinned and then realised that I needed to hit the home button on my satnav. My two animals would be waiting, and I was suddenly eager to get back to them. Horny and impatient. Screw those road works; I’d risk the main route rather than that bloody cart track alongside the yellow brick road again!