Pony Renaissance

There was, I reflected, something profoundly satisfying to the ears about the crisp crack of the whip upon human flesh. Very wicked, I know but oh so delightful to the ear. Likewise, the accompanying squeal of agony a fraction of a second later, even if a loose-fitting mouth bit, muted the sound somewhat.

It was our second day on the job, as it were. Beauty seemed very unhappy, even resentful, which I thought a little ungrateful for it wasn’t as if I were shirking my share of the workload. I mean, I was the one having to sort through and heave all that accumulated junk into her little cart. I was the one doing all the bending, stretching and heavy lifting at both ends. I was the one getting absolutely filthy, whereas all she had to do was stand about doing nothing till it was time to haul the damn thing. Sheesh, it was even a slightly downhill journey when loaded, so what more did she want!

I flicked her flank with the tip of my whip as a reminder. It was a very light flick, almost a love tap by my standards, and it didn’t even leave a mark. Not a serious one anyway, and that faint trace would fade within minutes. Hardly worth the vocal effort for that squawk of distress she made, I’d have thought.

I remembered that sniff of disapproval Mandy had given at the idea of my pony spending long periods standing about in her stall. Well, to qualify that, all ponies spend an awful lot of time standing around in their stalls doing absolutely nothing, don’t they? What Mandy had laughingly called it, the three principle S’s of pony life—standing, sleeping and shitting! 

I supposed that you could have added a fourth S in bold italic for overall suffering! All those S’s more or less encapsulated the wretched life of the average captive human equine. Toss in those brief periods of feeding and grooming, and the only other thing the wretched animals had to enliven the mind-numbing tedium of their miserable lives was entertaining or serving their owners.

I ran an appraising eye over Beauties whip welted rump and thighs as I walked beside the laden cart she was hauling. Which did they prefer, I wondered? The endless boredom or those other little active interludes notwithstanding the inevitable painful accompaniment! 

Perhaps my Beauty did prefer standing around all day doing ‘sweet fuck all?’ However, those early days of her captivity with me leaning upon her stall door and simply gloating over my splendid animal tethered within her stall were over. Don’t get me wrong on that point. I still became orgasmic at the mere thought of Beauty in all her harnessed helpless glory awaiting upon my pleasure. That thrill of absolute ownership that, for me, was more arousing and constantly stimulated me way beyond anything the most potent aphrodisiacs could ever achieve!

I might have put the creature to work, but that didn’t mean that I had forgotten about her basic training. I’d got myself a first-class filly, a genuine grade A ponygirl, and I certainly wasn’t about to accept or allow the animal to turn into a third rate, lacklustre, jaded, wilting, miserable specimen wallowing in extremes of self-pity!

No way. I mean, she could inwardly feel how she damn well-liked but outwardly, she better not display any such signs in my presence. I didn’t expect her to be happy; I mean, who would be under such awful circumstances, but I wanted an animal I could be proud to own. Even more so now that I’d met Mandy, and I did not doubt that at some point, I would meet some of her other friends and acquaintances, very possibly with my proud Beauty to hand. 

Proud, I felt, was the appropriate keyword. I envisaged the animal strutting its stuff in front of a group of admiring, perhaps even envious onlookers. Surprised and alarmed as I had been by Mandy’s unexpected arrival in my stable, I’d not missed that certain avaricious glint in her eye as she ran her appraising hands over my ponygirl!

The short whip cracked again on her right rump cheek even as I thought about Mandy’s visit. “High, step high pony”, I shouted, adding another stripe to her thigh, and hauled on the long rein with my other hand dragging her head back. “Whoa, slow it, slow down, whoa. Concentrate, you silly beast. Step, step and step. High and high and step!” 

I flicked out with the whip again but only lightly letting her feel the tip flick around to caress her right udder. She jumped and squealed even though the touch had been the merest trickle. My animal was very sensitive in that particular region. Unfortunate for her but very satisfying for me! Anyway, there was no need for haste was there. It was a perfect day for some proper outdoor exercise. The sun was shining, only the merest traces of cloud marring the bright blue sky overhead, likewise only the occasional breath of breeze to cool that healthy sheen of sweat my animal was producing.

I squinted upwards. Yes, it was hot and would get a great deal hotter if the local radio forecast was correct, but I’d taken precautions to protect us both. Beauty, of course, was spared any cumbersome clothing being in her usual state of nudity, hoof boots and harness leather. Cumbersome was probably not very apt; I reflected, eyeing the tight leather I’d bound about her body! 

I mused upon the word. Did I mean that? Awkward, heavy, unwieldy? No, perhaps not. Given her, near nakedness she certainly didn’t lack freedom of movement, not in certain areas. I grinned and eyed her bouncing whip scarred rump cheeks and those heavy udders that wobbled so deliciously with every high step. She could hardly be described as overdressed!

I gave up the mental exercise of searching for the proper adjective. It was unimportant and far too hot!  I’d smeared sun lotion liberally all over the exposed portions of beauties body, a not unpleasant exercise. I’d debated whether to protect those sensitive areas I so loved to punish. I could use the sun as a natural aid to add a touch of soreness to those areas I frequently dusted with a paddle before a more severe punishment. The sun could give those prime targets for my whip a real warm-up, perhaps?

Tempting, but I’d decided against it as potentially too damaging if I wasn’t careful and consoled myself by thoroughly rubbing the greasy lotion into those juicy areas of her body that I found so fascinating. Another time perhaps? I suppose that I was the over-dressed one, although maybe hardly more than my handsome harnessed animal in terms of bare flesh displayed! 

Not being overly endowed up top, I’d opted to go braless under an old bought in error, white cotton tee shirt several sizes too large, loosely gathered in and knotted at my navel. Panties and cut down denim hipster shorts and a pair of old, very old trainers. I was working on the principle that if I got filthy handling old junk, I’d wear a wardrobe that could also be consigned to the junk heap at the end of the day.  

Apart from the disposables, I had my gardening gloves, sunglasses and a relatively broad floppy sun hat past its best for weddings and christenings. Anyway, I hadn’t been to one of those in years, but I was rather fond of it. Maybe I should get myself a proper cowboy or cowgirl hat? Yee-haw, I had the pony, didn’t I?  Plus, of course, I had the whip, but strictly speaking, that I supposed was an accessory rather than apparel.

There was no rush, we had all the time in the world to complete the task, and I saw no reason why Beauty should not pull her little cart with that same elegant eye-pleasing traditional high stepping gait we’d practised in the farmyard and on my improvised electric walker. Admittedly the drive was somewhat rutted, and those broken, buried bricks and other half concealed bits of rubble might pose a problem in her unusual footwear, but that was something she’d simply have to get used to and the sooner, the better.

A goodly portion of those recent whip wheals across her rump had come from the encouragement I’d supplied when the clumsy creature had stumbled and fallen during the first morning’s trips down to the entrance area. Once she’d regained her hooves prompted by a rain of blows from my whip, and I eyed all the trash that had fallen off the cart, trash I’d have to pick up, I’d been sorely tempted to start in on her again! However, fortunately for her, my common sense had prevailed, and I resisted the angry urge to blister that helpless fat quivering rump.

The fault was undoubtedly mine anyway for overloading the cart and doing so on only her second trip before she’d become accustomed to the new task. Also, I knew that if I gave full reign to my angry sadistic impulses, I’d only end up with an animal incapable of performing even the simplest of things for at least several days! That ‘one pony’ problem was rearing its head yet again!

I had her on a set of reins attached to her bridle and pulled sharply on the right-hand one as we approached the final bend before that grassy area near the gate that I was using to dump all the accumulated stable detritus. There was no real need for me to use the reins, for I doubted that she’d have carried on walking straight into that thicket of prickly holly bushes that lined that last bend in the drive. I cracked my whip into empty air simultaneously as additional emphasis delighting in the way she instinctively jumped at the sound.

Obedience, of course, was why I steered her around the bend. That decision to avoid those bushes was no longer hers to make, was it.  As per the real thing, her animal brain might shy at plunging through those thick prickly bushes, but unlike the owner of an actual equine, I would tolerate no such hesitation on her part!  It was not the bushes but the fact that she’d have made that decision to turn and follow the path if there had just been a grass verge there instead of the bushes. 

That was something else Mandy had casually mentioned as we squatted on that small hill sipping deliciously chilled sparkling wine and eating our lunch while enjoying the afternoon sunshine. The challenge all owners of human equines faced, the hurdle of intelligence versus obedience. Instant, blind, unquestioning obedience! The animals could indulge themselves as much as they liked within the confines of stall or paddock if they wanted to exercise the little grey cells—a futile occupation in her opinion but nothing for her to be overly concerned about.

That mental exercise was not an option available to them though once harnessed for a task when nothing other than blind instant obedience would be acceptable. Independent thought all too often led to independent action, and that, of course, would never be tolerated under any circumstances! Commands would be given, and they would obey unquestioningly. There would be no excuses, no leeway, no mercy shown, and sooner or later, the whip would ensure compliance to such blind obedience. It always did!

I made a mental note and decided I’d use this healthy exercise my ponygirl was getting to indulge in just such obedience training. I might as well utilise these trips to emphasise that she must only respond to the reins,  not to any action her animal brain might suggest.  I hadn’t got any blinkers for her, but I could add a blindfold; that might be a better idea. I eyed her rump speculatively as the growing rubbish pile came into view. 

Yesterday had taken its toll. Maybe that right rump cheek could take one more good thrashing before it needed a recovery period. Given my position, behind and to the right, that tempting target had received the brunt of my ‘encouragement’. The left was virtually unsullied, at least by recent marks. Likewise, her thighs on both sides and her udders, always so responsive, could certainly take a few hard flicks.  I grinned to myself as I hauled back and called, “Whoa, whoa, pony, halt!” Having such a statuesque animal meant plenty of soft flesh available to reinforce such lessons!

“Stand, stand still, pony”, I commanded, walking forward and tapping her on one shoulder with my doubled-up whip. “Stand, stay!”

I considered giving a stream of orders and trying to wheel her around backwards, allowing me to open the back of the small cart and tip the contents out but decided against it. Hell, I’d got my thick gardening gloves on, and it would be faster to grab and chuck. In any case, to tip the cart, I’d have to unharness her from it, and I decided that I couldn’t be bothered. It was the same every trip, so why did I even bother considering it, I wondered.

I’d heard my mother frequently use ‘Heath Robinson’ for some of my father’s mechanical or carpentry efforts as a child.  I’d looked it up on Wikipedia once out of curiosity. He was an English cartoonist, illustrator and artist, best known for drawings of whimsically elaborate machines to achieve simple objectives. ‘A Heath Robinson contraption commonly used in relation to temporary fixes using ingenuity and whatever is to hand, often string and tape, or unlikely cannibalisations.’ According to wiki, a Mr Rube Goldberg was apparently the American equivalent!

Well, the latter part was certainly appropriate, although I hadn’t quite sunk as low as resorting to string and tape, nor had I been particularly elaborate! Everything I’d need for my crude improvisation had been to hand as I rooted around in the cluttered stable bar one or two essential items. Chiefly I could not find anything suitable to use as an axle, and I wanted two of them.

Ten minutes on the internet solved that and then a short trip to a metal workshop hiding at the back of a small industrial estate on the city's outskirts. A small bald gnome of a man in a tatty brown dustcoat had looked at my sketch, politely listened to what I had to say and promptly assured me that it would be a ’piece of cake, no trouble at hall, madam’. 

Unfortunately, he’s then sucked his cheeks in, assumed a doleful demeanour and apologetically dropped his little bombshell along with his aitches! Although I noted he seemed to add three for every one, he dropped as he continued.  Told me that owing to the time of year, olidays hand the like, staff shorthages, hand being hinundated, habsolutly hinundated, three weeks at the herliest even though it were ha simple job, like’

I’d listened to the discourse with fascination then taken two crisp ten pound notes out of my wallet. I held them in my hand for a second, then pushed them across the heavily scarred wooden counter and asked if it would be okay to pay by credit card when I picked the axels up in, say an hour or so after having a cup of coffee. Without so much as a change of expression, not even a blink, the gnome palmed the notes, assured me that the company preferred any sort of card payment over cash and suggested perhaps I swap the coffee for han h’early lunch, returning say two ours ence!

It was expensive overall for a couple of metal rods with threads and whatnots on the ends. Still, I was in a hurry, and they’d done an excellent job, I reflected as my makeshift cart bounced along the rutted track—no trouble at all fitting the bicycle wheels on and securing them. I hadn’t been able to find four the same size, at least useable, so the front two were marginally smaller, not that it made the slightest difference. 

I’d erred on the small size when constructing my mini-farm wagon. A flat plywood base, a simple wooden frame on three sides covered in small mesh rusted chicken wire comprised the main part. A last-minute alteration from plywood when I spotted the old roll, much lighter, I decided. My jigsaw had quickly reduced another piece of plywood to a size suitable for a simple drop-down rear door attached via two old door hinges at the bottom and a couple of small brass bolt fittings on either side at the top. 

I’d also found some old aluminium tent poles that slotted tightly together via sprung ball fittings. I’d carefully assembled a couple then bent them to shape to serve as the two shafts. Double bolted to the cart at one end and affixed to a heavy three-inch strap at the other end now secured around Beauties waist. Simple hotchpotch stuff, but it all worked.

I hadn’t wanted to overload Beauty nor the cart especially given the rutted nature of the track between the farm and the entrance gate. I’d also considered that there was no great rush, so the number of trips we had to make was of no consequence. I’d made up my mind to clear out the entire stable, add a touch of paint in a few places and do other odd jobs. I’d get a plumber come electrician in and add an electric water heater to my wet area and install a couple of extractor fans for those days when perhaps ‘essence of captured human equine’ might become a little too strong even for me!

In any case, I’d noticed it got too warm in there on hot days, and once more animals were housed, ‘if’ more animal were ever housed there, then they’d come in useful. I’d keep Beauty in one corner of my kitchen during the day when the workmen were here, I decided. One final touch of civilised living of a sort for the beast, perhaps!

I tugged at my gloves and was balefully eyeing the heap of rusty metal, old half-filled paint cans, broken chairs and metal bed ends and much more when my cell phone beeped and vibrated in my shorts pocket and fortunately kept on ringing while I hurridly divested myself of the heavy gardening gloves that suddenly seemed glued to my hands and retrieved it.

“What took you so long, slowcoach. Amusing yourself with your little puppy dog again, I’ll bet?” the familiar voice chuckled.

“Screw you, madam pony mistress!” I replied tartly. “If you must know, I’ve been slaving under a hot sun shifting all that junk out from the stable and down to the entrance gate where some local Man with Van can collect it!” I then temporised slightly. “The sun is getting hot, and I have been loading and unloading, but to be strictly accurate, Beauty is the one doing the sweating and slaving, under the whip naturally.  I’ve got her harnessed to a little cart and making herself useful for once.”

Mandy laughed. “Good to hear it, and strangely enough, it was that over cluttered stable of yours I was calling about. Good timing evidently, which bodes well for all of us, I hope. You’ve what, three more empty stalls or will have when you’ve finished your big clear out?

“Five actually, a couple were well and truly buried almost. The place is already looking a hell of a lot bigger than when you came. Why the sudden interest anyway?”

Mandy said something, but I missed most of it owing to the slow and incredibly noisy passage of a large truck down the lane, no doubt plodding along in low gear trying to find the right farm entrance. Good luck to whoever was at the wheel of the thing trying to manoeuvre it in this area.

“Hold on”, I interrupted. “Can you please start again? Too much road noise on my end; I missed virtually everything you were saying. Something about vacant space, extra chores, and Sally, wasn’t it?”

“Yup, you heard that bit right, Honey; that’s if you even consider them chores!”

“Okay, I’m listening. All quiet now, so shoot,” I replied curiously.

“Bang bang!” Mandy responded immediately and then, before I could say anything caustic about her juvenile humour, “How would you like to fill two of those empty stalls, say on a virtually permanent basis? No cost to you either bar a minor increase in your daily maintenance chores!”

I blinked. “Two! You’re kidding me, two! Two more ponies?”

“I can categorically assure you, young madam, that I most certainly am not!” Mandy sounded rather indignant, “and yes, girl, two repeat TWO ponies! T and W and O, two! Heaven’s I’m not calling to simply to ask how you are or something.” Her tone mollified. “How are things going, by the way?” 

“Fine, sorry, I was just a bit taken aback. More than a bit,” I added after a moment’s thought. “I take it that you are entirely serious?” I knew it was an unnecessary question but still felt compelled to ask it even at the risk of seeming foolish.

To my relief, I heard one of Mandy’s good-humoured chuckles. “Perfectly understandable, Honey. Bob and I have been chatting since he came back, plus something else interesting has come up at short notice, very short notice that might tie everything nicely together. Hey, have you followed through on those security suggestions I made, phoned Tony, I gave you his private number and told him to expect a call? Have you done so yet?”

I bit the bullet. “Not yet”, I admitted hesitantly. “I sort of wanted to get the stable cleaned out, give myself a clear field”, I extemporised, not really expecting her to believe me. She didn’t!

“That’s Bull and Shit, Honey. Now, if we are to go full steam ahead with our little plan, you will have to make a few changes, more than a few additions to your security, okay? So before you fly off the proverbial handle, the good news is that my Bob is going to pay for them, all of them!”

I must admit that I was somewhat taken aback to the point where I didn’t even reply for a few seconds, although I could hear Mandy ‘hello, helloing ‘on the other end.

“Sorry, still here. I’m not sure I understand what you are saying?”

“Fuck!” Mandy swore and then giggled. “That’s okay. Honey. Perfectly understandable.” There was a pause, and then she added. “Fact is we are all quite taken with you at this end, myself, Bob and Sally plus your location is just about perfect. Combine that with a chat the three of us had recently, plus those other, shall we call them unexpected opportunities that are likely to become available in the immediate future. Opportunities  that we have the first refusal on and we may all end up happy” She broke off and giggled ‘except for those opportunities I just mentioned!”

My brain was working again and not just working but getting extremely interested and taking in everything she was saying, every word and every nuance. “Two-legged equine opportunities, I assume?”

Once again, I heard that rich chuckle. “Bullseye, Honey. Look, I don’t want to chat like this on the phone; God alone knows who’s out there earwigging such conversations in this big brother wireless age! I’ve got Tony coming here tomorrow morning. Can I get him to come over to your place the day after to do a full site survey? Don’t worry; he’s one hundred per cent secure, so you needn’t bother about hiding anything from him or any similar bullshit. That okay with you?”

I noted her tone was somewhat between an out and out demand and a humble supplicants plea, and she managed both extremes simultaneously, interesting! “Fine with me”, I replied but added cautiously. “I’m not about to promise or commit to anything, though”, I warned her and then another thought struck me.

“Hey, this mysterious Tony of yours, can he organise other things and bits besides security stuff and the like?”

Mandy chuckled once more. “Honey, you just name it, and he can probably arrange it, anything bar moon landings, raising the Titanic, etc. Things and bits I expect can certainly be arranged! Why?” 

“Hot water and additional ventilation”, I responded immediately and then added. “Maybe a few other things as I think of them as well.”

“Okay, I’ll give him your number and address. I’ll call when he leaves here so you have a rough idea of when he’ll arrive. In the meantime, Honey, work on that list of other things. Also, keep in mind that my Bob is going to be paying the bill.” She paused and giggled again. “He can be a real penny-pinching scrouge at times but not upon this occasion; I think so don’t hold back.”

“Yes,” I said, becoming a little impatient. “But going back to what you first said, what is all this…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it now, Honey. I’ve given you the basics, two more stalls filled, and you will be doing us, Bob, in particular, a huge favour. I told you how fond of Sally he is, didn’t I?  Once I hear back from Tony, the two of us will drive over, or maybe you could revisit us. Either way will suffice. Look, I’ve got to dash now; I just wanted to get the Tony thing underway. Okay?”

“Yes, but….”

“No time, Kiddo, be nice to Tony; he’s a perfect pussy cat, feed him a few of those delicious biscuits, and he’ll purr for you, a real sweetie. Catch you later; Bob wants me outside for something, bye Honey!

I resisted the sudden urge to stamp my foot in frustration as I stared down at the phone in my hand, not sure how to feel. Angry, excited, irritated, bemused or a combination of all of them. I noticed that Beauty had shuffled herself around slightly and was looking at me curiously. Anger and indignation immediately banished all other thoughts and emotions!

I leapt to one side, simultaneously releasing the tip of the doubled-up whip from my hand and swinging my arm back. Three times I struck with full force, making the impertinent animal jump and squeal in agony. Twice across her rump, kissing both cheeks and the third doing similar on those big bouncy udders. 

If it hadn’t been for the loaded cart attached to her, I’d probably have given her a thorough red welted zebra body striping there and then! How dare she, how dare that, that animal show an interest in the affairs of its betters! How dare it! I was livid, unreasonably so given the circumstances! However, that thought was so far at the back of my mind as to be out of sight. How dare the creature, how…..

Fortunately for me and far more so for my pony, reason quickly returned before I totally lost it. Deep breaths, deep breaths, girl! I’d always had something of a short temper, a trait that had got me into trouble and even caused a humiliating demotion in my working days. However, neither mercy nor awareness of my temper stayed my hand but something much more mundane. The way she was jumping about was threatening to capsize my DIY cart and thus spill its contents. I’d only have to pick the damn stuff up from the middle of the drive and dispose of it where I intended.

My arm was drawn back for the fourth stroke, but instead, I slowly lowered it and took a couple of paces forward to grab the terrified creature’s bridle and pull her sweaty face down towards mine. I was about to say something that would have centred around the stable cane and later, but that look in her eyes stopped me dead. I knew there was nothing that I needed to say, the beast was intelligent after all, and I could read a whole lot in those big eyes! I didn’t need to mention later; the animal already knew!

I felt that familiar shudder run right through my petite frame, top to bottom. A familiar hedonistic shiver of pleasure triggered by my absolute control over the animal, one that swept away the last remnants of my sudden anger. I gave her a sweet cruel smile and let my tongue briefly flick over the tip of her nose in a cat-like wet kiss, giggled at the astonished look and released my hold. Anyway, I reflected, a part of my rage ought to be aimed at that mega-rich bitch and her fucking enigmatic phone calls!

 *****

Cute had been my first impression. Warm, soft brown eyes peeping from under very long lashes that I’d have loved to have had along with most women. Intelligent quizzical eyes sparkling with good humour. Neither tall nor short nor slim or stocky and with a dazzling white toothsome smile. Average almost but decidedly cute apart from that initial bone-crunching handshake.

His English was impeccable but slightly accented, and my first thought was the Middle East or that part of the world. I’d hosted many people from that area around London for my last employer. Likewise, I’d dealt with enough top-end executives to recognise that his suit, shirt and silk tie all shrieked bespoke high-end tailoring, and yet his car was nothing special. Not even a car, a small white innocuous van that I supposed was as expected from a tradesman. Tony, though, I realised at once was no ordinary plumber or builder! 

He’d apologised immediately for that handshake flashing his smile in an extra-wide reassuring manner as I flexed my fingers to ensure that they still worked. A bad habit he’d admitted being so used to dealing with hefty workman and similar. He frequently forgot to moderate it; he’d added when meeting other people.

I gave him a weak grin, but my somewhat disparaging glance at his mud-splattered transport hadn’t gone unnoticed either. I had to admit that I’d spent the previous afternoon and evening in a very uncertain frame of mind following on from Mandy’s unexpected phone call. My initial interest and excitement had ebbed somewhat as the hot afternoon progressed, and I began to feel both uneasy and a little angry.

I had a profound feeling that I was being rushed along on a journey that I had not expected and in a manner that I had not anticipated. Beauty benefited significantly from my distraction and lack of focus for the remainder of the day.  My earlier resolution regarding her training flew out of the window along with my concentration. I could not even have told you exactly how many journeys we made between the stable and that growing junk pile, my thoughts elsewhere. 

I was in an on/off mood till bedtime. I didn’t like the way she’d been so abrupt and so sparse with her information nor the fact that I felt I was being pushed into something. I still hadn’t recovered in some ways from that shock when she had so confidently entered my stable unannounced, thus shattering my foolish perception of my crimes being totally unknown to the external world!

Now the woman was proposing to introduce someone else, another unknown factor to that world, and that made me feel uneasy all over again, just like I’d felt for those few days after her visit. I was on the verge of phoning her and saying forget it several times. I didn’t, though. Each time, I recalled that I’d been on the point of doing just that the other day and if I had done, I would not have enjoyed such a wonderful visit to her estate.

Positives and negatives, and the more I thought about it, the stronger those positives became. I could trust Mandy, couldn’t I. Hell yes, given what I’d seen in her stables and house, no question of that. Her hints about more ponies and what did she mean, Bob would pay for it all, so don’t worry?  I did worry, of course. I had plans hadn’t I, but they were all long term, but if?

Then again, long or short term, such plans were more akin to wishful thinking. I could never afford to buy another pony even if I discovered how to go about making such an unusual purchase. That left only the temptation to go down the other route, the one I’d already used. Even thinking about doing that again gave me the shivers! Would I be able to resist that temptation long term, though? 

I went to bed thinking about that ‘if’. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I made no use of my little puppy girl for the first time in a while to relax the built-up tensions of the day before I fell asleep! In the morning, I felt somewhat heavy headed and decided not to worry about it. Hell girl, Mandy had more to lose than me, so go with the flow and see how things pan out. Was that ‘more ponies’ some sort of bait on a hook though I could not help wondering?

Mandy, as promised, called about nine-thirty just after I’d returned from giving Beauty her morning stint under the hose and filling her breakfast trough. Tony had left her place early and should be with me in about three hours. As I expected and to my annoyance, she had no time to chat, had to dash and would catch me later, the irritating bitch!

“Please forgive the van, also kindly accept my humble apologies for being later than I intended,” Tony said with a grimace. “Those damned roadworks in the village near Mandy’s place. Great big holes all over the place and chaps standing about with shovels doing absolutely nothing!”

I grinned in sympathy. “Tell me about them,” I laughed, then added, “Or perhaps not, I spent the better part of thirty minutes in a similar situation not long ago” I moved slightly to one side and gestured for him to come into my kitchen cum living room. I’d spent a good part of the previous evening tidying the place and trying to catch up on several years of neglected spring cleaning. Most of the usual clutter was back on shelves, in cupboards, or casually poked out of sight. Enough to make it look reasonably respectable anyway! Little Fluffy was upstairs in her bedding pile chained once again to the radiator in my bedroom

He laughed and then said abruptly, “Mandy tells me you are quite trustworthy” he flashed that gleaming smile again as he said it, and I realised it was a statement and not a question.  I also noticed that his smile did not reach those soft brown eyes this time, and their look held a hint of something decidedly sinister and unpleasant.

Okay, I thought, then let’s play it that way if that’s what you want. I walked past him, half turned, beckoning him to follow with a crooked finger and strode briskly over to the stable without looking back. He must have been very soft on his feet, for the first sign he’d followed me was when another and stronger pair of hands obligingly helped me open that wretched squealing stable door.

“Thanks”, I acknowledged switching on the lights. “Old hinges, they seem to have got a lot worse in the last few days”, I lied.

“Tardis effect,” he said, looking around. “Bigger than it looks from the front on account of the depth.”

Beauty, of course, had responded in precisely the same way she had when Mandy slipped into my stable that day. I’d tightened her bit after she’d finished slurping up her breakfast and produced the obligatory clean bowl. However, she was still managing to make far too much noise and prancing about in a manner calculated to distract anyone.

I thought I better deal with that, turning to Tony to apologise but realising I needn’t bother. He was oblivious to my frantic pony. He was already tapping on an iPad that I hadn’t noticed as his head turned this way and that looking around the old building. His gaze must have swept over Beauty numerous times, but he showed no interest in her whatsoever. He smiled and held up the iPad as our eyes met.

“Not just hinges”, he grinned. “I’d say a couple of new doors as well. You have extensive rot in those apart from the fact that they are on the verge of falling apart from sheer age! Six stalls?”

I nodded. “I’ve been clearing them out over the last few days. They were full of junk.”

“I saw some of it down by your gate.  Goodly collection by the look of it and more to come?” he nodded to one far corner. “Basic washing area, workbench, some storage, but I see no kitchen, no animal feed prep area, no tack room, correct?”

“Uh hu”, I grunted. “I do the food in my kitchen and carry it over for”. I nodded toward Beauty who’s efforts to attract attention had noticeably subsided as her body posture sagged into utter dejection!

He glanced at her, then walked over to my work area, looking about and examining the electrics and my limited plumbing and then came back to join me, still tapping away on his screen. “I take it all the lights are switched on?”

I nodded and watched, fascinated as his fingers danced on the touch screen. Hell, he could work faster with one finger than I could with both hands on a keyboard!

“Cart and carriage store, anything like that or do you envisage using that dead space” he pointed toward the far end of the stable. Does that single door open, by the way?”

I shook my head. “Never to my knowledge. There's about a foot and half of muck piled up on the other side. In any case, I expect it's way more rotten than either of those two main ones. As for carts, the answer is no; I don’t have any. I’m sure that Mandy must have told you, I’m something of a novice to all this” I waved my hand vaguely in my sullen ponies direction. “It probably sounds unambitious, but my original idea was just to make use of her in the stable and maybe out in the yard there for security reasons. In any case, although I have some land, there are no suitable paths or tracks.”

I found myself fascinated watching those dancing fingers busily tapping again. Strangely I thought that despite all my previous misgivings, not to mention a semi-sleepless night, I was finding it very easy to talk to him. Mandy, it seemed, did know the right people. Tony looked satisfied, smiled at me again and took a walk around peering into various nooks and crannies plus each stall, including Beauties, as though my fine animal wasn’t even there. 

His fingers had resumed tip-tapping again as he re-joined me. “Exercise,” he said. “Do you have a walker or anything like that for your pony” he jerked his head toward the occupied stall?

“Nope”, I admitted. “I’ve got an old running/walking folding electric treadmill I’ve had her on a few times. Why?” I raised my head, looking up to the roof as he was doing, wondering if he’d spotted something amiss up above. Did I have a hole? Some tiles come adrift or something?

“You have a very large open area here” he swung an arm, gesturing around where we stood. “Primarily wasted space. Those beams up there look pretty strong, old ship timbers from some scrapped sailing ship, I’d imagine. You find a lot of them in old buildings like this, farms, village pubs and similar. Those holes and notches are the giveaways, plus the distorted shape. I reckon we could easily fix the motor and tether arms up there, and then you can put this space to good use regardless of the weather. Three arms I would suggest given that you have six stalls. That wall over there” he switched direction and pointed. “There used to be another door there; someone bricked it up for some reason and did a good job judging by the way it blends in. You can hardly see it under the filth.

I gaped at him. The slightly disapproving note in his voice when he used the word filth to describe my stable passed me by unnoticed. Pony walker was still ricocheting around in my brain! The matter of fact way he discussed and presented things, and at the same time, Mandy’s voice suddenly popped into my head. ‘Work on that list of other things and keep in mind that my Bob will be paying the bill’. I realised he’d finished his typing or tapping and was looking questioningly at me.

“I hadn’t even noticed it, not under the, er filth! I muttered as his words finally penetrated. There’s a sort of small extension, well, more like a little brick hut on the other side. It's missing most of the roof, doors and windows and full of stinging nettles.

“Excellent”, he beamed at me. “We can take a look-see later. Open up that old doorway and a bit of restoration work on the other side, and perhaps you will have a tack room. It will save cluttering up this main area, will it not?”

I gave him a big grin as my doubts vanished. “Mandy tells me that you are very partial to a decent biscuit and a cup of coffee. I can’t vouch for the coffee because I’ll be making that, but the biscuits come from a little old lady in the village, and she’s an excellent baker! Why don’t we go and have a little chat? Oh, and by the way, if I happen to think of some additions later after you have departed, could they be added to the job list?” I adopted a wishful little girl look and fluttered my less than impressive eyelashes at him.

He laughed. “Mandy did mention the biscuits, and I certainly see no problems in adding as many additions as you wish. My payment is assured whatever I’m told, and my core team is very flexible as my site manager will be.” He paused, frowning and I thought suddenly looked a little embarrassed. “Did, er, did Mrs Montague-Smythe happen to mention anything else about me?” he asked, blushing slightly, which I found rather delightful

I shook my head, wondering why the sudden reticence. “She said very little other than you would be coming over”, I grumbled, suddenly curious. “Why?”

He gave me a somewhat hesitant smile, and this time it was his turn to crook a finger and beckon, and I followed him out to his small white innocuous-looking traders van.

*****

“Better?” I asked, and this time, I was the one blushing as I pushed a mug of coffee towards him as he took his seat at the table, although not before politely checking his fly was done up. That was a first in my experience so far as casual coffee guests went! Nor was it I thought something you could do discretely when someone like me was still fascinatedly watching you. I glanced over at the silent figure kneeling in front of my old sofa and raised a questioning eyebrow toward my guest. “Is he safe?”

Tony pulled the hot mug towards him and then reached for my rarely used sugar bowl. “Safe, oh yes, perfectly safe. It hasn’t uttered a word in at least eighteen months, not even to me, and in any case, its ears are permanently plugged under that hood,” he replied, carefully measuring half a teaspoon of sugar into his mug. “Not counting screaming, of course. It does tend to forget itself when it's being punished!”

The ‘it’ had undoubtedly been punished and punished both severely and frequently. I’d noted the numerous scars all over its naked body the moment Tony released the youth. I presumed it was a youth from the metal cage bolted to the floor at the back of his commonplace weather-stained white van, clipped a leash to the heavy collar around his neck and led him like a dog on all fours into my farmhouse.

I busied myself between preparing mugs, biscuit tin, plates and the electric kettle while casting spellbound glances sideways, watching another first, or perhaps a second. Hadn’t I  sat on that same sofa with my damp knickers around my ankles, legs spread with little Fluffy’s head between them on several occasions similarly employed on oral duties. 

Average sized, I’d thought in height, but there was nothing remotely average about the monster that reared out of his pants the moment he unzipped his fly. I almost dropped the mug I was holding the way it instantly sprang out like some great predator leaping from cover upon its unsuspecting prey. How the hell had he been able to walk around my stable so normally with that monster stiffie clamouring for release, I wondered. 

In this case, I thought the prey was hardly unsuspecting. The youth must have known from long experience what would happen as he crawled across my yard and immediately assumed that respectful kneeling position in front of the sofa when his master kicked him. Tony released the enormous red ball gag from his mouth, seated himself, opened his pants, and pulled him down, impaling his head upon that rampant cock. He tapped the rubber covered head and said one word. ‘Begin’.

I had obediently followed that beckoning finger from the stable to his van and then hadn’t quite known whether to giggle or say something more appropriate. He’d opened the rear doors of his van and pointed to a large rectangular shape under a tatty blue cover and explained with that same touch of embarrassment and then explained.

“I have a little problem” he paused and grinned sheepishly. “Well, perhaps not so little, at least not in one sense. Tell me, have you ever heard the term Priapism by any chance?”

“Vaguely”, I compromised, wondering what was concealed under that blue plastic cover.

“It is a rather embarrassing male sexual condition. I have a large penis, and it has a tendency to become erect without any form of stimulus or thought on my part.  Some might call that a blessing, and indeed in some ways, it is. My virality is enviable, but it can also be embarrassing, not to say downright awkward at times. 

“I see”. I didn’t, not entirely, but I thought I’d sound polite.

“Roman women, it is said, highly prised slaves who suffered from the affliction for their ability to satisfy their Mistress’s sexual desires without wilting. Fortunately, in my case, the condition is only partial; I can wilt provide I take steps to relieve myself of the erect condition when it occurs unintentionally. Otherwise, things tend to get rather uncomfortable in the trouser department. There are times, of course, when one must excuse oneself and, to put it crudely, wank away in the nearest convenience! Tedious but unavoidable at times unless I want to waddle around for the next few hours till the condition subsides!”

“Waddle!”

“One of the politer ways of putting it. My younger brother, well, no, I won’t sully your ears with some of his cruder descriptions. As children growing up in West London, we were both aficionados of the Hollywood westerns. Doing my ‘gunfighters walk’ with my pistol at the ready was one of his less obscene tags!  

He grinned at me. “Fortunately, I have my patent remedy to hand, voila! “He whisked the blue cover off with a theatrical flourish to reveal a rectangular iron cage within which crouching on all fours was a near-naked man. “I rarely travel without such a means of providing relief. Today this one has been chosen to accompany me and have the privilege of subduing my rampant masculinity as needed. Thus allowing me to continue giving you my full and undivided attention without other distractions!” he put a hand to his face and whispered in a conspiratorial manner. “Hence my preference for this somewhat ordinary nondescript mode of transport! I hope I haven’t shocked you?” he said that latter part with a grin and indeed wasn’t being serious.

“Deeply”, I responded immediately. “Probably never forgive you. What’s his name?” I asked as he busied himself, releasing catches.

“It doesn’t have one. None of them has. They don’t need them, so why dignify them with such meaningless trivia. Come, out boy, out; your master needs you once again!”

“How many do you have?”

“Five at the last count,” he said savagely, yanking the unfortunate creature out of the van so that it tumbled clumsily to the ground. His foot immediately kicked out. “Up, up and follow, heel!  May I?” He looked from me to the open farmhouse door?

I nodded and followed, shaking my head. Jeez, just what the hell had I let myself in for when I snatched my ponygirl!

“No names, not even numbers,” I asked a little later as he helped himself to a biscuit and took a bite. He shook his head and politely finished chewing and swallowing before replying.

“No, not even a number. They are mere objects for my enjoyment and practical relief. They are not identical, but it’d be hard to separate four of them other than the colour of their hoods. Same, height, same bodies and age almost.” He laughed. “If it weren’t for those rubber hoods, I’d probably have to go by the marks my wife’s whip leaves on them. She just loves keeping my boys in order! She identifies them by the colour of their hoods.”

“You’re married?”

“Of course, it is expected of me, although I at least got to choose, unlike my parents. Theirs was an arranged marriage.  My father was a minor Saudi Prince” he stopped and laughed. “Mind you; half the damn country are minor royals of one sort or another. Do you know Ryiddha has three terminals at the airport? Domestic, international and royal, would you believe!”

He chuckled and took a swig of coffee and another bite from his biscuit. I waited, turning to look at the kneeling youth. Undernourished but not emaciated. Not more than five feet six or so, I thought, maybe smaller and completely clean-shaven from what I could see. Tony had not bothered to replace that large red ball gag leaving it on the sofa alongside the end of the leash leading to the heavy red leather collar around the youth’s neck.

He knelt upright, naked apart from the collar and similar restraints around his waist, ankles and wrists. Chains ran from his ankles to his waist and from there to his wrists. I realised that he could kneel, but there was no way he could stand upright. Shuffling along on his knees or crawling on all fours were the only options open to him. I’d seen the callouses on his knees as he rolled on the ground after Tony had unceremoniously hauled him out of the van to fall helplessly to the ground.

I’d noticed something else as well or rather didn’t notice something. Tony was showing the same appreciation for those biscuits that Mandy had. I made a mental note to go to the post office and see if I could find the old lady’s address. Maybe Mandy would like to order direct and make a sizeable donation to that local cat rescue the woman supported. 

My guest momentarily turned his attention back to his iPad, so I got up and walked over and examined the youth more closely. I guessed that his head must have been shaven, for that tight-fitting red rubber latex hood revealed every bump and lump of his skull. There were no eye holes, and if anything, the material looked slightly thicker, denser over the eye recesses—two tiny holes under his nostrils that looked inadequate and the larger opening for his mouth.  I noticed the material was denser and thicker over his ears, undoubtedly adding to Tony's plugs. Did he even know I was there beside him? I wondered, but perhaps he could smell me? Probably, I’d been quite liberal with the scent bottle earlier, hadn’t I!

I glanced down. No, I hadn’t been mistaken. There was nothing between his legs to notice, not even the hint of a penile stump. I pushed a finger into his mouth on impulse, which immediately opened wide to accommodate my probing digit. I was right as I swirled it around rather, enjoying the odd squishy sensation. It wasn’t only his cock and balls that had been taken from him; there was not a single tooth remaining in his head!

“What’s so amusing if I may enquire,” Tony asked as I resumed my seat. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed, merely curious in a polite way. He had, as I had already observed, exquisite manners. I glanced back at the kneeling youth. Such a contrast, but then, Mandy was no different, was she and was I any different?

“Me, I suppose,” I told him. “I guess it's because I’m the new girl on the block when it comes to all this” I waved towards the kneeling youth. “I find it all a little hard to accept. I was petrified that time Mandy walked unannounced into my stable, almost pulled out of going over to visit her place and imagined all sorts of unpleasant consequences following on from your visit.” I smiled ruefully. “I’m beginning to feel a bit foolish, not to mention very naive!”

“Ah, I understand” he smiled. “Maybe it would set your mind at rest if you knew a little bit more about me; I will wager that the admirable Mrs Montague-Smythe told you very little if anything?” 

I nodded. “One bet you would definitely win!”

He chuckled. “A beautiful, friendly, charming, delightful and yet occasionally a most frustrating lady. I admire and respect her greatly, but” he paused and winked. “Most decidedly infuriating at times! No doubt you were left with the impression that I was some sort of jobbing builder who dabbled in security systems, or vice versa!”

“Not quite that bad”, I replied, warming to his good-humoured, easy-going nature; then that silent motionless figure kneeling in front of the sofa caught my eye. Two sides, I told myself. Don’t allow yourself to forget, girl, that all of these charming people have two very different sides!

“I won’t,” I told myself unintentionally aloud and automatically added, “, Sorry”. Even as I spoke, my glance fell upon a casually discarded riding crop.  Who was I to think that? They were not the only ones with two different personas.

That lovely smile flashed again. “I’m sure you have nothing to apologise for,” he said, glancing at his omega wristwatch. “Time though is getting on, and I need to do a preliminary site survey. I’ll give you the abbreviated version of, let us call it ‘then to now as it were! A little background family history.”

 “Once upon a time,” I said, sitting back in my chair and then added another “sorry” in response to the reproachful look he threw at me.

He wagged a warning finger. “I have an old friend, a good customer who keeps a bevvy of assorted western women of all ages locked up in his private harem. Looks and age are not important, but every one of them offended him somehow, from the serious to perhaps a mere trifle. He is a very unforgiving man, and his three wives are most sadistic to the various waitresses, check out girls, flight attendants, society bitches, and the like who slighted their beloved. So beware!” he warned and then chuckled. “Mind you, unlike him, my memory is very short term!”

“Seriously,” I asked.

“Well, let’s say I indulged myself with a little exaggeration, but certain basics are correct even down to the nasty disposition of the three wives” he winked at me in a blatantly mischievous manner.

“I am not the first in my family to enjoy such creatures”, he gestured to his hooded captive. “Nor was my father, how far back such cruel and exotic entertainments go can only be guessed. My grandfather was not of the royal line but a skilled artisan, also an efficient businessman, who founded and developed his own construction company. He was extremely successful and married a not quite so minor royal princess along with her sizeable dowery! My father had an English University education, as did I and carried on the family business extending its reach to several countries before passing the baton on to me. My mother was from Pakistan; her parents were both doctors who’d met during their training in Edinburgh. He was a Pakistani national, and she was very much the perfect alabaster skinned highland lassie. Hence the lighter skin colouring I inherited but fortunately not the vivid red hair that was my maternal grandmothers crowning glory. “I trust that I am not boring you too much?”

“Not in the least; it sounds fascinating, honestly!” I threw the last word in because of his slightly dubious look, but I did mean what I said.

He laughed again. “Well, to keep it short, my parents could well afford their little idiosyncrasies. The emphasis being on the syn part!  Theirs was an arranged marriage, of course otherwise I might not be here speaking to you today” he broke off and nodded to the kneeling figure again. “As I said, in principle, I take after my father in my sexual preferences. My mother is a vicious lesbian sadist with her own little harem! The two of them must have come together on at least one occasion, though.” He finished with a chuckle.

“And you?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He smiled and drained his coffee mug. “A little more bisexual than my esteemed father. A very sweet and beautiful young lady of Royal Birth has delighted my parents on no less than three joyous occasions. Two boys and a girl. Although my personal preferences for fun and games are more exotic, she is an extremely sexy bedmate, so dutifully fulfilling my obligations to maintaining the family line has proved no arduous chore.”

“Does she have her own female harem as well?”

He threw his head back and laughed delightedly. “No”, he paused thoughtfully. “Not as such. She has no sapphic inclinations so far as I am aware. Her days are spent like any good mother with the children and dutifully attending to my house and servants. In addition, she has enthusiastically taken on the chore of supervising my collection of creatures such as that object. They serve her needs in much the same way as they do mine should she desire such entertainment. Woe betides them if they fail to please her or give me a reason to complain for she is a hard and demanding taskmistress! 

He stopped, looked at his watch and frowned. “But delightful as I find chatting to you, I must carry out the assignment entrusted to me, or I shall incur a certain ladies wrath! Please,” he gestured towards the doorway.

“Certainly, are you that scared of Mandy?” I asked but only half jovially. He caught my mood and winked.

“Hell, you’ve seen that stable of hers, have you not?. Scared, oh my, that terrible place is a black hole, believe me, once sucked in, you’re never seen or heard of again!” He gave me a wide-eyed scary look, then ruined it entirely by giving me that wink again. “Not that we don’t all have such black holes, of course in our private little universe!”

“Oh, come on then and bring your tape measure or whatever thingy then” I threw back at him and led the way out into the farmyard, pausing only to look back at the rubber-clad youth still kneeling motionless before my sofa.

“Don’t worry about that thing?” Tony said contemptuously, following my gaze. “Other than breathing in and out, it will not move so much as a single centimetre; you can rest assured of that! If it does, I shall inform my sweet young wife of its wilful disobedience immediately upon my return home!  Come let us stretch our legs and start down by your entrance gate; we can walk your little evil empire to be and finish up back at your stable. Oh, and my ‘whatever thingy’ is a sophisticated electronic measuring device, by the way. Tapes are so very, yesterday!”